Who gets to go?

In all of the planning, there is something key that I cannot lose sight of – I’m meant to be writing a series of novels, rather than solely preparing the architecture of a Mars mission. (As deeply fascinating and engaging as I find that to be!) As a result, that means that I have to come up with a strong justification for an expedition to Mars – and while I’m already sold on scientific and cultural grounds, the fact remains that a stronger driving force will likely be needed before a ‘Kennedy moment’ can take place. In short, we need a race – and in addition, it makes for fantastic drama.

A race needs at least two runners, so I have to evaulate who might be in a position to launch a mission to Mars in the timeframe indicated. It comes down, I feel, to a short list of possibilities – one very short list of those who might drive such a mission, and a somewhat longer list of those who might contribute to this mission in an international context. I’ll say from the outset that I am dubious about the practicality of a Mars mission being flown as any sort of joint operation. Certainly I can see an international aspect, but as with any war, creating coalitions adds to complexity, and a Mars mission is complicated enough.

I could be wrong; in a sense, I’d like to be wrong, as such a mission would only be greater if comprised by multiple nations, but I have the feeling that the first crew landing on the Red Planet will have only a single nationality. Bearing that in mind, I’ll start with the obvious – the United States. In every respect, the US has a strong lead, both in terms of the private and public sector, to the point that I am quite confident that if the call came early in a President’s first administration, man could be walking on Mars before the end of his second.

That’s the easy one. I think the second one is just as straightforward – China. After a slow start, China is gaining ground rapidly, and the development of more advanced launchers combined with increasing internationalization is going to provide them with a strong position. Further, as we move into the 2020s, China and the United States will increasingly be duelling for the leading role in global affairs, the two nations on par both economically and in terms of ‘soft’ power. A situation certainly comparable to the Cold War, and human nature suggests that such a conflict will begin – which nicely sets up the prospect of a race to Mars.

Increasingly, the third potential player is something of a long shot, though I do not think that Russia can be discounted as yet. With half a century of experience in long-duration spaceflight, Russia is certainly in a position to be a major contributor to a Mars mission, and could potentially gather sufficient partners to pull off an expedition in their own right. Either the United States or China would greatly benefit from bringing Russia in – ironically, I can see Russia occupying the role that China held during the Cold War, a critical ‘swing’ power, along perhaps with a handful of others.

Europe cannot be ignored either, though the increasing political turmoil is certainly a concern for the future of the European Space Agency – ESA fracturing back into the older national agencies is certainly a possibility for the future, and in any case, a Europe-led Mars mission seems something of a long-shot, though I could see a Russian-European alliance pulling off a landing, a good combination of expertise and funding to produce a serious rival to the United States and China. ESA is certainly going to be a major player in orbital space, but whether or not they have the ability to press further remains to be seen.

In a slightly lower tier, certainly as we progress further into the century, lie Canada, India, Japan and Brazil, all growing powers with an interest in spaceflight, though again it seems hard to conclude that they would be able to undertake such a mission by themselves. One possibility would be for the four nations to join forces with NASA - it’s not hard to see them ‘buying’ one seat per mission, though I still believe that a single-nation effort is more likely to succeed. (In the long-term, of course, when a base expands to a settlement, this could change quickly.)

There are dozens of other nations that could be involved on some level. I can actually see, say, Nigeria contributing experiments for the Mars landing, or agreements made with an Indonesian university to receive Mars rock – that’s exactly the sort of ‘soft power projection’ that could be a critical part of a Mars mission; Project Apollo witness exactly this sort of international involvement, even though there was never any serious thought of placing a non-American astronaut on the Moon.

I’m going to have to make a choice for the book – though in reality, we’re going to be surprised. (Bonus points if a private corporation chooses an unexpected launch site – Woomera, maybe, to make the Australian flag the first to fly on Mars…) I’ll level here in that I’m picking United States vs. China, with the Russians as a third player hovering in the shadows for additional potential interest later on. After all – once it has been done once….

Refining the Martian Transfer Vehicle

The more I look at the concept I’m evolving as Mars Ultra-Direct, the more I like it; indeed, I’m increasingly beginning to conclude that I’ll probably end up writing a book on this very topic at some point in the not-too-distant future, probably as a companion to the projected novel I’m supposedly working on. (I’m getting obsessed with the research, I freely admit, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.) I actually think I’m coming up with a workable mission profile, an architecture that actually could put Man on Mars at relatively low cost.

One element that had been worrying me was the size of my projected Mars Transit Vehicle. I’m currently working on something of a similar size and weight of the cancelled Sundancer module (hell, if NASA offered to pay for it, I’m sure Bigelow Aerospace would be only too happy to drag it out of mothballs) which has a usable living space about 50% larger than the ISS Destiny module. There would be the Dragon lander, of course – which would still be usable as living space – and a pair of BEAM-descended additions for logistic storage. That gives maybe 200 square meters of living space for four people. Doesn’t sound like much, does it?

The Russians might disagree. That’s twice as much as a Salyut station, and they were nominally designed for a three-man crew. And, oddly enough, so would NASA, much to my surprise. I’ve been looking at their ‘Deep Space Habitat’ concept, which uses as its crew accommodations for a 500-day four-man flight...a Destiny module and an MPLM. I think I’ve actually come up with a MTV with significantly better capacity than NASA, at a vastly reduced cost – and one that can be launched on a single Falcon Heavy into Martian Transfer Orbit.

Having said that, I wouldn’t go all the way from the surface of Earth. Better, as I’ve said before, to get into LEO and perform a series of checks first, spend a month or so to ensure everything is working before departure. I’d launch the crew separately as well, which adds another advantage – they can bring their consumables with them. On the assumption that they will launch in a normal Dragon Two, carrying only four men rather than seven, they’ll be able to bring the food and water they’ll need for the flight to Mars with them when they launch from Earth – which is three tons that the Dragon Heavy won’t need to bring up in the initial ascent. Just a nice little extra ‘gimme’.

I’m pretty sure – though to be fair, it is tight – that this mission would work with hardware that should be available by 2020; by 2030, I suspect things will have improved considerably. The first versions of the Falcon 9, for example, had only about half the capacity of the most recent iteration. It seems reasonable to conclude that, after a decade of flight, similar improvements will have been made to the Falcom Heavy design, and that the Falcon Heavy 2 (or even 3) will be able to put 20-25,000 kg on trajectory to Mars. Failing that, there remains the option of on-orbit refuelling prior to departure, either with a second Falcon Heavy or even a Falcon 9. (Again, improvements to this model are likely – assuming falling costs haven’t led to the retirement of the Falcon 9 completely in preference to its larger brother.)

As crazy as this seems, I’m beginning to think that this could actually work – the key remains reducing the amount of mass you have to take to the surface of Mars, and the concept of going directly to a fixed surface station, rather than a constantly-expanding base. It’s hard to get past three Falcon Heavy launches for that, I confess, though the larger the surface payload, the better scientific payoff you get for the base – going to 12,000 kg, for example, means a base half again as large, potentially a second buggy or a lot more first-mission logistic support, and a more capable reactor/refinery combination. (Potentially, that could carry other equipment as well – drones, for example, though I would recommend a capacity for additional storage. Perhaps it could house a backup communications system, or something along those lines – the more mass, bluntly, the better.)

There is potential, of course, for the MTV to be larger on the way home than it was for the journey to Mars. I’ve established that there are two Falcon Heavy flights in each launch window – one carrying the crew, the other carrying two logistic modules, one for the surface, one for orbit. There’s nothing to stop the orbital logistic module being pressurized – in which case, it can take the place of the then-redundant lander at the front of the MTV, potentially providing half again as much living area. (Bonus points if that module includes equipment to analyze the samples and data brought up from the surface – they won’t need access to that on the way out, but they will on the way home.)

Fourteen Falcon Heavy flights, then – even unmodified, it ought to be possible. And fills the requirement of being able to complete this project quickly. With a green light by a new President in, say, 2021, it would probably be possible to get the first MTV into a launch window in 2027, to land near the end of that year. And to those who think it cannot be done, I note that this is roughly the same sort of timeframe as Project Apollo.

Mars Ultra-Direct

Last night, I had a new idea. Not technically my own, I grant you, but I thought of a new way to put the pieces together, and cut the costs of a manned Mars mission considerably – especially if amortized over multiple flights. For the purposes of this analysis, I have retained the ‘fixed base’ concept; it remains a significant cost saver, and while it might limit exploration of the planet, it will actually help in what should be a primary mission goal – to work out just how to live on Mars.

The key here is two techniques, neither of which is entirely new to the concept of Mars missions – in-situ resource utilization and on-orbit refuelling. Both of these are critical path technologies, but frankly, both of them are, in my opinion, critical path technologies to any exploration taking place beyond LEO. We’re going to need them sooner or later, and we’re already well ahead of the game in both techniques. (ISRU is essentially Victorian-era chemical engineering, and we’ve been pumping liquids in orbit since Salyut 6.)

Holding with my assumption for a 2031 mission, the first ships leave Earth in 2027, four robotic precursors. Three of them are destined for Mars, each for a different site established as a potential target for long-range human exploration. Essentially, these consist of a group of short-range rovers, with a mission to begin analysis of the local terrain to gather the information required for a manned landing – both in terms of suitability as a safe landing site, and scientific interest, a compromise that will have to be reached by the mission planners before launch. The fourth goes to Phobos and Deimos, and has one mission. Find ice. It’s been theorized that ice exists on the moons of Mars, and we’re going to need it to make this mission work.

If all goes well, then in 2029, the first expedition elements are launched, and here’s the largest single use of launchers for the entire Mars program – four Falcon Heavy boosters, three of them targetted at the selected exploration site, the fourth going to whichever of the two Martian moons proved most suitable for water extraction. Two of the Martian landers will provide the materials required for the base – inflatable hab modules, solar cells, a buggy, equipment, and a water/oxygen extractor. (Knowing that there is water on Mars makes this a lot easier!) The intention is that the astronauts will set the base up themselves upon landing, their key task of the first few weeks – but they’ll have a lander to live in while they work, to use as a ‘construction shack’.

The remaining two landers, one for Mars, and one for, say, Phobos, are the ISRU units for the entire mission. We’re landing them as permanent structures, rather than for a single use. Each will be powered by an RTG, and the one deposited on Mars can serve also as the power supply for the base, with solar cells to supplement. Both have one job – make rocket fuel. SpaceX reports that they are planning on-orbit refuelling of the upper stages of its rockets – so let’s do that in Mars orbit, using fuel refined on Phobos. The escape velocity required to leave that tiny little moon is insignificant – all that is required is a nice big tank and a series of docking thrusters. On Mars, the key is to provide fuel for the lander – I’m assuming a refuelable Red Dragon as a design baseline for the moment. (There is almost certainly also space in the Phobos lander for a trio of LMO communications and observation satellites – if not, that will require another launch.)

Now we have our bases, and we can do things a little better. We only need two Falcon Heavy launchers per mission, now, one of them carrying a Lander/Hab combination to get the crew to Mars, the other carrying the supplies they’ll need for the trip home and for their stay on the surface. Both are possible within the advertised TMI capacity of the Falcon Heavy – you don’t even need to refuel in LEO, but can go all the way in a single hop. (Though I think it wiser to launch the Mars Transfer Vehicle a month early, to allow the astronauts to check that all systems are functioning before leaving Earth for almost three years.) The logistic support ship has two modules – one intended for Martian orbit, to provide the three tons of consumables required for the flight home, the other, a larger module, for the surface, to provide seven tons of supplies – consumables and scientific equipment, primarily. (I’m assuming that half of the weight of the lander will be needed for the lander itself, even on a one-way descent.)

In February 2031, two ships leave LEO – they arrive on Mars in November 2031. Both ships split in half, the two orbital components beginning aerocapture while the lander and surface logistic module commence their descent to the surface. You’d want the logistic module to land first – precise targetting is not required – anywhere within a few miles of the base will suffice. I should note that some consumables will have already been landed in 2029, to serve as a backup should something go wrong.

Touchdown, then in mid-November, 2031. Then the work really begins. On the surface, the astronauts build their base, connecting the already-functional oxygen and water systems first to their lander, then later to the base itself, a collection of modules clustered together for safety. These are intended almost as a ‘wet workshop’ concept – the astronauts will have to install equipment, get everything working, but they have time to do it, and the truly mission-critical elements – fuel, power, oxygen, water, food – will already be operational on landing. If one of the six hab modules is damaged, it isn’t a disaster. In orbit, the hab/upper stage and the orbital logistics module will use aerocapture to enter Mars orbit, a process that will take some weeks, but can be supervised from the surface. Once a stable orbit is attained, the Phobos refinery can transfer fuel to the upper Falcon Heavy stage, providing all the propellent required to get the crew home in 2033. On the surface, they’ll have to transfer fuel to the lander from the surface refinery – the buggy will doubtless be critical here. With a little luck and a lot of work, by New Years’ Day 2032, everything will essentially be ready for the exploration period to begin.

They remain for fourteen more months, leaving Mars in their lander – the same one they used to arrive, refuelled for the flight to LMO – and docking with the refuelled Hab/Logistic/Upper Stage combination. Naturally, they leave the lander behind – though there will be an option of using it for brief excursions to Phobos and Deimos if time permits. (I’d expect at the very least unmanned samplers to be deployed.) This completed, they light their candle and go home.

The next expedition will leave before they arrive – and when the second crew lands, they’ll find everything ready for them, a completed Martian outpost, refineries working to provide the fuel they’ll need for the trip home. Their logistic module will expand their reach – more supplies, potentially more hab modules. The key here is that as much of the mission architecture is rendered reusable as possible, drastically cutting down the number of flights. (Indeed, it’s well within the realm of possibility that the Hab/Upper Stage combination can be reused, refuelled in orbit with a new lander fitted for the trip out, though my current thinking has it as single-use.) The base and equipment are the bulk of the cost – once they’re established, every visit amortizes that cost, and you have the nucleus of a future Martian settlement. I’ve figured four to six expeditions in this first wave, but with the architecture in place, there’s really nothing stopping a far more extended series of missions. If a new base is wanted, then it can always be established later on, just as the first was, though I would instead recommend smaller ‘motels’, a couple of modules as short-duration outposts, with water/oxygen refineries attached. Potentially, for the cost of an additional Falcon Heavy, you could add one for each later mission for limited expense.

With so many of the critical mission systems used for the entire four-mission program, the cost of each is drastically reduced – down to twelve Falcon Heavy launches over ten years. (Fifteen, if the ‘Martian Motel’ option is undertaken.) If as advertised by SpaceX, this is less than a billion dollars in launch costs. Mars Ultra-Direct could be considerably cheaper than Project Apollo as a percentage of GDP, and could almost certainly be undertaken by NASA today, with no budget increase required.

Now all I need is for someone to tell me why this won’t work. (And as an amusing afterthought, I might have finally found a justification for the Asteroid Redirect Mission. If neither of the two Martian moons are suitable for resource extraction, it ought to be possible to find a chunk of ice on a Near-Martian trajectory that is!)

Mars Quasi-Direct: Mars Surface Station Rethink

Landing on Mars is tough. This is well-known enough, and any mission architecture has to take into account that putting decent-sized payloads onto the planet will not be easy. For that reason, I’m strongly in favour of the establishment of an outpost for exploration, something not dissimilar in concept to the International Space Station, rather than attempting to construct a habitat for each mission. If something like SLS was available, then this would naturally be a game changer, but even then, I’d be prepared to fight for this concept.

I’ve got two reasons for this. The first is that we’re going to Mars to settle, ultimately. The goal is to found a new world – and that means constructing something that will last a long time, a nucleus for further development. The second – more realistically – is that budgets fall, especially once something has been accomplished. If the bulk of the hardware is already at Mars, then the call to make use of it is easier, if only on terms of amortization of cost. I’ve gone over my original plans again, and in the cold light of day, made some revisions. I now think that establishing the base is going to take two Falcon Heavy launches, and several smaller launches, Logistic Support flights.

As a primary model, I’ve taken the ‘Wet Workshop’ idea – the original concept for Skylab, to launch the upper stage of a Saturn V and refit it in space as a station. I don’t advocate that precisely, but certainly the astronauts will be able – to an extent – to build the base when they arrive. They don’t need a fully-functional facility, just something they can outfit with the equipment on hand. To that end, the cargo brought down by that first expedition will primarily be consumables – food, oxygen, water, sufficient to keep them going until they can get the base operational.

Using Falcon Heavy, we’re not talking about anything huge. The mission outline I’ve adopted calls for two launches in 2029 – Base Module One and ERV One, both to land reasonably close to each other, say a mile apart. You actually don’t want the ERV too close; it isn’t a good idea to launch a rocket only a few meters from your base, especially if you’re hoping to use it again. A mile apart is fine. ERV gets started, beginning the process of producing its fuel from the surface, filling its tanks to fulfil its ultimate destiny of getting a crew into orbit to begin the flight home. That’s pretty much as in Mars Direct.

Base Module One is something like a Sundancer module, around nine thousand pounds, not including landing weight. It lands deflated, only inflating two years later, before the first manned crew lands. There will be some fixed apparatus – the more, the better – and a pair of expandable modules attached to the bottom, analogous to that attached to Station right now. Those are for workshops, as a greenhouse, et cetera. You have two airlocks, also – though hopefully, you’ll only use a single one. At the same time, with smaller Falcon 9 launches, you put a trio of Logistic modules onto Mars, again within a mile of the base – carrying equipment, consumables, et cetera. Everything to outfit the base once the astronauts arrive.

A single base module isn’t going to be enough. Ideally, we’d want everything ready before the astronauts landed, but we’re going to need Base Module Two, and that will have to land with precision. Within, say twenty meters of Base Module One. The first module is still sealed, remember, at this stage. Base Module Two is guided into position by the astronauts themselves, once they are in Mars orbit, able to monitor the landing in real time. It needs real precision landing, and will be one of the most critical elements of the mission – as one of the Logistic landers will have the tunnel that connects the two modules together, forming an outpost that can house the entire crew. It’s identical to the first one – and theoretically, at a pinch, one would just about do – though it would be cramped. We’re out for maximum benefits, though.

Once the two modules are down, they can be inflated, checked, and the crew can land at a safe distance from them both, into what will now be a fairly crowded landing site. Remember that they have many months on the surface – they’ve got time to spend the first six weeks getting everything set up, installing equipment, rigging solar panels, getting everything online before beginning a serious exploration programme. This has the other advantage of giving the crew a through conditioning into work in Martian conditions while completing tasks that they will have thoroughly trained for down on Earth. Later, when they’re working far more independently, these skills will be extremely useful.

Every mission will be accompanied by a trio of Logistic vehicles – each delivering about two tons of supplies to the surface. The bulk of this will be food, but also scientific equipment, et cetera. Anything that the mission needs – though naturally, we plan one mission in advance, so the second crew will accept delivery of the supplies for the third, for example. It could be hoped that the greenhouse(s) might help with this, but for the first two expeditions, it would be best not to count too heavily on this.

A long range rover is another problem – that’s something that will definitely be needed, but not necessarily by the first expedition. I presume some sort of buggy, something similar to the lunar rover, will be available to the first team, but a later landing can provide a pair of Crew Exploration Vehicles to allow wider-ranged explorations. Of course – they could arrive in 2031 with what is becoming a significant Martian flotilla, and in an ideal world, they would, but it might be deemed wiser to spread out the cost a little.

To summarize, then. In 2027, the precursor mission lands – which sends down a series of probes to explore the local area and work out the best spot for a landing. Optionally, you might even send two or three of these, if you have some dispute over what represents the best site. In 2029, the real fun begins, with two large and two small launches – Base Module One and ERV One, as well as Logistic One and Logistic Two. Note that they can be sent up into orbit separately, over a longer period, but that they’ll have to leave at roughly the same time. This will be one of the most taxing parts of the mission – and the one with the least human intervention.

In 2030/1, seven launches are required. Base Module Two, ERV Two, two to put the MTV together (I still see no way of doing that in one launch) and three Logistic landers. That flotilla flies out to Mars, and with a little luck and a lot of work, by New Year’s Day 2032, you’ve built your Mars Surface Station. Future missions will only need five launches, at a considerably reduced cost – because you’ve already built your destination. You just have to get there, and a lot of the work has been done for you. Later crews can build on the work of the earlier, and really get to grips with one of the primary goals – living on Mars.

Predictions...

When predicting the future, it’s best to expect to be wrong. Had you asked me in 2000 whether or not we’d have landed on Mars, I’d have probably answered with a firm ‘yes’; I’d certainly have thought that such a mission would be in advanced planning, with hardware under construction, test flights in progress. If you’d have told me that the United States would still be more than a year away from the ability to put man in space – and that NASA would be at least five years away – I wouldn’t have believed you. It’s fortunate indeed that SpaceX is filling the gap; I don’t think there are particularly good odds on Orion ever flying.

I’m choosing to set a book in 2030; that means I have to make some predictions about the way things are going to turn out. Ultimately, I’m going to go with the safe option, and predict ‘more of the same’ in an international context. China will continue to gain ground economically and strategically, and it will be far more of a bipolar world than it currently is. India will be advancing fast, but still behind, and I believe Russia on the brink of a resurgence, especially as oil prices rise once more. It will be a world that looks a lot more like 1980 than 2000; conflict between superpowers building once again. At some point, there will have been another land war on the scale of Iraq or Afghanistan; I can think of a dozen potential flashpoints around the world, but I’ll go for Venezuela. That’s a situation that is close to home for the United States, and one that is likely to get a lot worse before it gets better.

Of more importance – and ground I feel somewhat safer on – will be the ‘state of the cosmos’. There will be at least one, possibly even two or three commercial space stations, though quasi-commercial might be a better way of putting it, as I still believe governmental assistance will be required. ISS will be no more, though some of its newer modules will probably survive on new stations. Pick two of the United States, Russia and China – perhaps even all three, though I suspect two of the three will end up joining forces. Add Europe, Japan, India, Canada to the mix as partners. A good chance for Brazil, as well.

That’s where I think we’ll be, but I’m going to have to be a lot more decisive than that for the book itself – so I’m going to shoot for three stations in orbit over the Earth, one of them in a rather different orbit than the others. Two semi-commercial stations, one a consortium led by NASA, with CSA, BSA and a collection of corporate partners. This one primarily research-focused; tourists generally fly to the other one, which uses Russian architecture, though with a much stronger corporate influence. (Whatever you can say about the Russian space program, they know their space stations – I’d be astonished if one of the major space development corporations doesn’t buy into that hardware.) The third? Deep Space Gateway, of course, though for the purposes of the book...it isn’t a NASA project, but a sucker punch by China, Russia and Europe. The US takes too long to make the decision on proceeding with the project, and a different consortium does it instead – with the avowed goal of a return to the Moon in the 2030s. (Hey, I’ve got to think of some sort of political context for Mars Mission approval. The line ‘let them have the Moon, we’re going to Mars’ is a good one.)

Spaceplanes will be close, but not there yet; I like the Skylon concept, and development is certainly taking place, and I can see that as a project coming to fruition in the 2030s. Potentially in time to play a role in some of the later Mars missions, but not in time to have an impact on the architecture itself. Someone will be thinking about a third LEO station, and someone will be planning that landing on the moon – if a Deep Space Gateway is built, it does make that easier. (Personally, I’d prefer Mars, but...well, going somewhere is better than going nowhere! I’ll cheer on a Return to Luna program if someone seriously pushes it.)

In terms of further beyond, that’s harder to predict, except that there will be probes heading to the outer solar system. Probably more work on Venus, more orbiters, maybe surface landers – though sample return would be a nightmare, someone might be working on it. (A return of some of the Venusian atmosphere is probably a lot more practical; that might be possible in this timeframe.) There will be probes at Jupiter and Saturn, almost certainly, and toss a coin between Uranus and Neptune, though my money is on the more distant target, if only because of the launch windows. There’s a big dry patch for gravity-assist Neptune missions in the 2030s, so I can see someone trying to get a Neptune orbiter away before it closes; Uranus is possible later, and could wait a few more years.

And, of course, NASA is trying for Mars...

Film Review: Mission to Mars (2000)

I admit it, I have a soft spot for this movie. I think it was one of the first films I owned on DVD, and it actually has quite a lot going for it, as strange as it sounds. (The script is decidedly not one of those things, but we’ll get to that in a minute.) First – the soundtrack is fantastic, one of Morricone’s finest. I’ve got it playing while I write this, and that’s not intentional – it’s in my ‘space’ rotation. (Along with the Spacecamp music, but that’s a whole other story.) The curse of this film is that they actually do an awful lot right – it’s just that it is overwhelmed by the plot, which is...sigh.

Let’s start with the positives, and there are quite a few of them. The mission is one of the closest depictions of Mars Direct you’re going to see on screen – the little outpost on Mars is almost perfect, right down to the greenhouse, the rover, and they get the timing right – a long voyage, followed by an extended stay on the planet. (At least, that’s the mission plan...when the evil script kicks in, we start running into problems, but technologically, this is pretty good.) The Mars II ship is too big, but nowhere near as bad as the Hermes – it’s closer than most of the designs I’ve seen on screen, and it’s heart is definitely in the right place.

Casting is actually very good, bordering on excellent; the top five actors are all good, and they’re certainly doing their best with what they’ve been given. (I’d really like to watch the alternate universe version of this where they got to do something a little more like ‘Mars Crossing’ or ‘First Landing’.) Effects are good, no problems there, and the use of copper lighting reflectors to make the shots look more like the surface of Mars is downright inspired. Remembering that this was almost two decades ago, most of the shots on the surface are fine, and certainly the space shots are very good, right up to the ‘World Space Station’. Which is bizarre in itself, though I confess the design is fine.

We’re going to have to get to the bad stuff now, aren’t we. I’m going to save the aliens until last. (Because of course there are aliens on Mars.) First of all, let’s look at the crew. Again – the first crew seem fine – scientists and engineers – and that the commander of the expedition is explicitly a Ph.D. rather than a straight military pilot is a good touch. (I still maintain he or she is likely to be a flight surgeon, but that’s another story.) The Mars II crew – our heroes, are perhaps a somewhat different story. Now, sending a married couple into space is fine, and one reasonable solution to the problem of extended missions – you’ve got to be lucky enough that both are qualified astronauts, but astronauts have married ‘within their ranks’ before. (And the two actors actually do a good job with that, as well. It’s far too rare to see a happily married couple on screen...you don’t need unnecessary drama, and I somehow suspect that NASA psychologists would have ruled out a couple on the brink of divorce.)

I’m going to cut to the chase. Gary Sinese’s character looks and acts for most of the movie as though he’s either on the brink of taking a short walk out of the airlock or bursting into tears. As I said – he does a good job with what he has, but there’s no way that anyone with problems that bad would leave the launchpad. And NASA, in their infinite wisdom, sends him on a mission with a married couple who go as far as dancing in front of him. That’s really going to cheer him up. We’re into ‘Right Stuff’ territory here, but as a rule, anyone describing a realistic mission should assume that the astronauts are psychologically stable. Which does not preclude drama, not at all – but there’s no harm with being a little logical about this.

After doing so damned well with mission durations earlier, it all falls to pieces. The ‘Mars Rescue’ mission launches months ahead of schedule, carrying ‘less cargo’. Wait a minute – this mission is going to need the capability to carry five people home, not four. True, there is an ERV on the surface, but there’s no guarantee it can be repaired. You need more consumables, not less. And you can’t just wake up one morning and decide to go to Mars. (Something very well portrayed in The Martian, I note.) Naturally, if a crew went missing, the next mission would be forced to alter its schedule to accommodate an investigation and rescue effort. That might mean leaving a crewman behind to be able to bring another one back, or changing the payload for more food, or...there are options here. And drama aplenty, potentially. Who risks riding the wounded ERV home, for example?

Why is Mission Control on a space station? Yes, there’d be some use made of one – I’d launch my transit vehicle unmanned to save on weight, ferry the crew over from somewhere else, and you might as well use an orbital facility if you have it – but that doesn’t need any special facilities, other than a few extra supplies, maybe a single logistic mission in support. (You can do this without a station - but I think we’re going to have one, potentially commercial.) What you wouldn’t do is put Mission Control up there. Frankly, if you can fit the Johnson Space Centre on your space station, going to Mars is going to be pretty damned easy.

God, we haven’t even left LEO yet.

Mars II is punctured by meteorites. Yeah, I guess, but...sigh. Fine. Except that they cause enough damage to the engine that it explodes when they attempt orbital insertion – damage that doesn’t show on a status board or even a pre-flight checklist. Bluntly, no. Just...no. And then they abandon ship, because...of course. Why not. We’re already heading into fantasy realms here. I cannot imagine how the manoeuvre portrayed in the film could actually work. The delta-v required by the spacesuits would probably be enough that they could soft-land wearing them, given a heat-shield. And then Tim Robbins’ character dies, in a scene that has to be seen to be believed. He jets over to an orbital supply ship that, for no reason, wasn’t sent down to Mars to help the stranded survivor, clamps a line onto the ship, but fails to hold on himself. (Why he didn’t loop the line to his suit first is a mystery.)

The resultant failed rescue attempt is played for high drama, and the actors involved actually do a good job at trying to pull it off. You really get the emotion. It’s just hard not to scream at the television while it’s playing. I’m sure you can find it on Youtube if you’re interested; I hardly know where to start in describing it. In any case, the three survivors land on Mars, with no supplies – just a few new spares for the ERV. Luckily, that works, and for a while, sanity returns, as they explore the remains of the first expedition, finding the stranded, slightly crazy survivor on his own. That part is fine, and I liked the parallel with Ben Gunn from the start of the film. There are some smart enough parts to this script, but I really wish they’d hired a technical advisor. IMDB suggests they didn’t.

Then the aliens turn up. For some bizarre reason, they landed right next to the ‘Face on Mars’. Sigh. I guess sooner or later a manned expedition would visit it if only to shut the conspiracy theorists up, but if for some reason the first expedition landed in Cydonia, then I think they’d go there first. (And I just realized that the Martian is set in Acidalia Planitia, which includes Cydonia. Mental note – set my book nowhere near the place.) I suppose it isn’t a bad landing site, but come on. There are lots of other places on Mars. Of course, in the film, it’s just as well they did, because it turns out the Face is real, and that the Martians are our ancestors, and that the whole thing was a message inviting us to follow them to the stars. Really...just...no. Just, no. Genetics doesn’t work that way. Some weird alien landing on Earth (assuming it could survive Earth gravity) and seeding some genetic material will produce nothing recognizable. (I confess I did like the part of the ‘what went wrong with Mars’ simulation showing a large impactor – we know that such an impact did take place, and was likely catastrophic for the Martian biosphere. Now there’s somewhere to investigate.)

The curse of Mission to Mars is that it should have been a really, really good movie. Except where script constraints sabotage it, the science is actually pretty good, the cast is good, the direction is good, the budget was big enough to really go to town. Where this falls down is the bizarre insistence that going to Mars isn’t ‘big enough’ to sustain a movie. Imagine doing ‘Scott of the Antarctic’ but insisting that it wasn’t an interesting enough story, so we’ve got to have him fighting Nazis at the South Pole. Or have Apollo 13 sabotaged by the aliens from Roswell. (And don’t joke – I’m sure that’s been pitched by someone, somewhere.) A mission to Mars would be the event of the century, and would have all the excitement and drama you could want.

Mars Quasi-Direct

So, let’s go to Mars. One of the first – and most important – tasks that I have to accomplish is designing the mission. I’d very much like it to be as accurate as possible, and that means that I have – by myself – to work out the details of how this mission could actually work. Naturally, I don’t need to make it perfect, and there are certain elements that will potentially falter – but as far as possible, I intend to use actual, real-world designs. Elements actually in use today, or at least, on the drawing board. To that end, I’m working on a series of key assumptions – principally, that Falcon Heavy works as advertised, as that’s my favoured launcher for the mission. (I’m going to stress here that this is the first draft of what will likely be several – so most of this is subject to change.)

My basis for this is Mars Direct. I liked the plan when I first read it, twenty years ago, and I like it now, though naturally enough, there are some elements that time has permitted to be updated, and there is one critical modification that I’m opting to make – which I’ll get to in a minute. For those not familiar with the mission plan...I suggest breaking away and consulting Google. At a basis, this plan minimizes the number of launchers needed, and keeps the costs to a minimum. I’m aware that the current NASA Design Reference Mission calls for a more expensive variant called Mars Semi-Direct, but I’m also aware that the original plan to land on the moon was Earth-Orbital Rendezvous, and that the option requiring the development of a far smaller – and cheaper – booster was ultimately taken.

The Falcon Heavy – in the current issued specification – allows for a payload of 16,800kg to be dispatched to Mars. I need two of them for each mission – one for the flight to Mars, and one for the return. The return flight will be dependent on in-situ refuelling. For that matter, the whole mission will be dependent on using local resources, as this flight will last for the better part of three years, almost half of which will be spent on Mars itself. From a purely scientific standpoint, I feel that is essential. There’s no point spending months going to Mars to spend only a few weeks on the surface. An essential precursor mission will have to prove that fuel for the Earth Return Vehicle and water to sustain the crew can be provided. (Which suggests to me that an early sample return mission won’t be Mars samples at all – but distilled water. And if you’re going to do that landing anyway, you might as well do it at your planned base site.)

That gets me to another assumption, and my use of two additional Falcon Heavies. Which will build Mars Base – a pair of Bigelow habitats, solar cells, et cetera. Everything required to sustain a crew on the surface of Mars for ten years. (Yes, ten years – because the goal is for this base to support four or five visiting crews, each of which can build on the work already undertaken.) This technically confines the crews to a single area, but later missions can bring pressurized rovers for extended operations, perhaps a second Falcon Heavy dispatching a pair of them to support the second and subsequent missions.

So, two Falcon Heavy missions per flight. The second one, launched with the crew (though they might elect to transfer across in space, saving some launch weight and allowing an extended check-out period in Earth orbit before the mission actually begins TMI) consists of a ‘Red Dragon’ (again, I know that SpaceX isn’t working on them now, but a lot of work has been done, and it’s the best baseline I can find) a Bigelow Transhab, and all the consumables and equipment needed for the flight to and from Mars. Once the crew enters Mars orbit, they detach from the TransHab, putting it into hibernation for the flight home, and land using the Dragon at the base already present on the ground. Also waiting for them will be the Earth Return Vehicle – another Red Dragon, which will refuel itself on the surface, ready for the crew to ride it to orbit for the trip back to Earth. (Given Mars’ reduced gravity, it will not only carry the crew and the samples gathered during the expedition, but also fuel for the ship itself to return to Earth, the same mix that the landers will use. There’s a back-up possibility as well – if necessary, replacement fuel could be shipped direct from Earth. Though the mission will know that the fuel they require is present before they ever touch down on Mars.

I’m working – at present – on the assumption that the expedition leaves Earth on February 22nd, 2031, arriving at Mars orbit on November 7th. Departure from Mars orbit takes place on February 5th, 2033, with the expedition getting back to Earth orbit on October 20th. As soon as the crew arrive, they’ll be met by a transfer vehicle, presumably a Dragon, to fly them back down to Earth. Optionally, I suppose the ship could dock with a space station instead, but that seems an unnecessary level of complication. To keep the weight down, though, I maintain that the Mars Transfer Vehicle does not need to be able to land on Earth – that’s better accomplished at home.

Which gets me to the second Falcon Heavy. That’s going to be needed for the guts of the Mars Transfer Vehicle – launching the Lander and the Hab is going to take one Falcon Heavy – a second will be required for the engine and the fuel required to get the vehicle too and from Mars. That is conceived as being reusable; refuelled and re-serviced after each mission. (Which actually might require a space station, thinking about it, but only as a ‘Construction Shack’ for the work crew. They could probably use the Hab module, actually, if the work was undertaken shortly after the mission crew arrived back home.

So, the mission plan I’m working on right now calls for four Mars missions using fourteen Falcon Heavy boosters, as well as a few Falcon Nines for other purposes. (There will need to be a satellite network around Mars, for one thing – three combined communication/meterological satellites to support the mission. As well as a few landers at the base site, both to test key systems and to provide reconnaissance of the early exploration area. Most of these missions will launch in the late 2020s, to be ready for the four missions to launch in 2031, 2033, 2035 and 2037. Naturally – there are options to extend to a fifth or a sixth, depending on the condition of the modules. The first two major components launch unmanned on January 3rd, 2029 – the two rockets comprising the first Earth Return Vehicle and the Base components themselves. By September 19th, they’ll be in orbit – and down on the surface shortly thereafter. That gives a year for checking and testing before the first astronauts leave Earth, ready to make history. In late 2030, the two components of the first Martian Transfer Vehicle launch, and are assembled in orbit by the check-out crew before departure. Again – this gives six-plus weeks for systems testing before any commitment to a launch is made.

Looking at the crew, I’m going for a four-man team. While smaller than is perhaps optimal, there is a question of consumables. Water can be recycled, and replenished on Mars itself, but food is a tougher proposition. Four people will, over the duration of the mission, use more than ten tons of food. The base module will carry the food for the first expedition. If a pair of rovers are sent to Mars for the second expedition, then the food for that team might be able to ride-along with that; otherwise, Falcon Nines can provide supply drops, two per expedition, transporting food, medical supplies and new scientific equipment. (Realistically – that would probably happen in any case as a matter of course with each expedition. I’d like to go as pure Mars Direct as possible, and certainly I’m using a lot less than Mars Semi-Direct, but the original plan assumed a considerably larger launcher than the Falcon Heavy, a shuttle-derived Ares V. Theoretically, I suppose SPS might help here, but the Block II design that will unlock its greatest capabilities won’t be available until 2028. At best. I’ve chosen to go with the launch architecture we’ll most likely have. Assuming SpaceX’s new ‘BFR’ doesn’t turn up to invalidate all of this, of course...)

The four-man team will have to multi-task. One will certainly be a doctor – perhaps a flight surgeon, actually, combining the roles of ‘pilot/captain’ and ‘medical officer’ into one astronaut. Yes, I just put Doctor McCoy in charge. The US Navy and Air Force have been training their doctors as fliers for decades; there’s nothing new in this, and the flying will only be critical for a few docking procedures and the landing and launch – all mission-critical, but taking only a few hours out of a three-year mission. It only makes sense to combine the role with another. The second crewmember will be an engineer, likely trained as the backup pilot. The third and fourth comprise the scientific team, and my gut suggests that at least on the first expedition, that means a geologist and a biochemist. That might change for later expeditions, especially based on any discoveries made. (If I had gone with a six-man crew, I’d have included an astronomer/engineer – to make additional use of the transit time – and a geochemist.) It goes without saying that this will be a handpicked crew – probably all of them will have ‘Doctor’, as well as perhaps a military rank.) Of all the elements of this mission plan, this is the one I’m likeliest to stick to.

Having written this, I already know a few things I have to consider again. Nevertheless, this represents my ‘first try’, and gives me a lot of ground to cover in terms of more focused research. The goal, as I said before, is to come up with a mission architecture that would actually work in real life. I don’t want to handwave this, and I want to come up with an expedition profile that could fly. Call it, I don’t know, Mars Quasi-Direct. It’ll do for the moment, anyway.

Onward to Mars!

It’s probably about time that I revealed the purpose of this blog, and to introduce myself, as well. My name is Richard Tongue, and I’m a science-fiction writer, primarily known for the ‘Battlecruiser Alamo’ series. While I’ve always tried to give at least a grounding of reality in my work, I’ll be the first to admit that my military science-fiction is ‘space opera’, though heavily inspired by the universe we are slowly coming to understand. This blog is intended for something a little bit different – though still science-fiction.

I’m a space nut. That’s probably obvious from my chosen profession, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by the idea of pushing out into space – I grew up reading science-fiction that promised Mars missions, bases on the Moon, the works of Arthur C. Clarke and Robert Heinlein, and to the ten-year-old I once was, it all seemed so real, as though I could reach out and touch it. And naturally enough, I dreamed of going myself, though I suspect that is one dream that will never come to pass. Especially as, since I was born thirty-five years ago, no human has left Low Earth Orbit, though I rather home that will change in the near future. I want to watch someone take those first steps onto Martian soil, darn it!

As you can imagine, I’ve read countless books, fiction and non-fiction, on the first voyages to Mars, watching as our understanding of life on the Red Planet slowly changed. And frankly, I want to play in the same sandbox. I’ve ventured into the endless depths of space as far as Andromeda, but it’s time for me to do something a little closer to home. Or to put it another way, I choose to commit myself, before next year is out, to write a trilogy of novels based around the first manned missions to Mars.

Importantly, I don’t want to make anything up. I’m a very lazy man, and there are all these books around about what Mars is really like, about how missions will go. I said I was a space nut, and I have the library to prove it. (Heck – I’ve been working on and off on a history of the Soviet Space Program for years. I might actually get around to writing it someday. And I did write ‘One False Step’, a history of spaceflights that never were…) It’s time that I made good use of those laden shelves, and did it to write what will be as close as possible to an outline of what such a mission would be like. I’ve got a lot of homework to do, but I want it to feel real – to feel as though it could happen. (Or it already happened – and it could have, as well...what happened to Mars by 1982?)

So, that’s the focus of this blog. I’m not going to go into detail on any story elements, because I detest the idea of giving away too much, but I do intend to talk about, well, planning a mission to Mars. Even more – planning an entire program of manned Martian exploration, because that’s what I’m going to have to do if I’m going to make this trilogy truly work. I don’t want any handwaved science – I want to get it right. Perhaps the best way of putting it is that my approach is the same as one would employ while writing a historical novel. If I was writing a book set in, say Tudor England, I’d hardly want to start by making up my list of monarchs, and reading a single short history and calling it good. I’d do my homework, work on how the people actually lived, what was going on, that sort of thing. A thousand different details.

I have my textbooks, I have access to a lot of periodicals – and the NASA Document Archive, which is a fantastic online resource that should really be used by everyone interested in this field. They’ve done so much work on digitizing their records, and it seems churlish in the extreme to resist taking full advantage of it. I suppose I could say that I wanted to write the definitive ‘Mars expedition’ novel, but I think someone has beaten me too it…but never mind. There’s always room for another one!

I’m also going to talk about my inspirations. You can look forward to my defence of ‘Conquest of Space’ for example. I still think that movie holds up today. Lately, if it’s been set on Mars and looked even remotely realistic, I’ve been watching it, so a series of reviews of ‘Mars’ movies is probably coming up. (Though I have yet to watch the recent Mars series, embarrassingly enough – the blu-ray has been sitting next to my player for ages.) So, as well as my semi-incoherent discussions about how to get to Mars, I’ll be doing film and book reviews as well – fiction and non-fiction. I might go further, as well – I named the blog ‘Beyond Earth Orbit’ to cover myself against future explorations beyond Mars, to the Asteroids, to Titan, and so on, but that’s for the future.

For now, as Freidrich Tsander, Soviet rocket pioneer said, “Onward to Mars!”

Tomorrow...

For fifty years, Viking 2 had lain dormant on the surface of Mars, its mission completed, a wealth of scientific data harvested for the benefit of a generation of planetary scientists on Earth. And yet, for every question Viking had answered, it yielded a dozen more, the subject of later unmanned missions. Another is approaching, and dust rolls over the landscape as a second lander makes its way to the surface, carefully guided to come within sight of the venerable probe, while ensuring that no damage will come to it.

The comparison between the two vehicles is stark. Viking 2 was the finest piece of technology that could be constructed in its day, but several generations of spaceship design have come and gone since then, and the ‘Bughouse’, technically Precursor One, looks very different, even though it is accomplishing a similar task – a detailed survey of the local terrain. As soon as the dust settles, solar cells roll out across the soil, and the antenna at its top swings around to lock onto Earth.

Protective panels fall away, hinged at the bottom to provide a quintet of ramps, allowing the ‘Bugs’ to emerge. Sojourner-class rovers, less than ten centimetres in length, begin their journey across the landscape. Four of them begin their primary mission, choosing sites on a very different criteria than the normal. Whereas usually the operators would be seeking sites of maximum interest, they are instead looking for areas of the least interest. Flat and smooth spots, with no sites that might present a danger. The fifth, operated at long range by a man not yet born when Viking launched, drives up to the probe, its camera running across the lines of the veteran lander.

Tomorrow, one of the pictures it takes will be on the front page of every major newspaper on Earth.

Within a week, the primary mission of the probes has been completed, and three of them return to the Bughouse, climbing back into their tiny hangars, detailed telemetry being fed back to Earth to determine which should stay in storage. The two in worst condition have remained on the surface. This time, the geologists have their say, and they begin to roam across the region, taking photographs and readings of sites of special interest, mostly following up on those shots taken by Viking, so long ago.

One of them dies in the first week, misfortune trapping it behind a rock, in sufficient shade that its solar cells cannot charge its batteries. There is a back-up design in the event of solar cell failure, a ‘docking station’ that would allow it to recharge from the Bughouse, but that trapped wheel has pinned it in place. No problem; it will still be of some use, later one. The second survives for three months, before suffering a similar fate, a careless moment sending it tipping onto its side, unable to right itself. Mission Control soon puts it to sleep.

And so it rests, for another two years.

Then, one morning, something changes. One of the stored probe awakens from its long slumber, and rolls out onto the desert once more, heading for one of the sites of no geologic interest identified during the first period of exploration. A tall antenna rises from its back, and a beacon begins to transmit. An hour later, a shadow falls across the desert floor as another lander makes its descent, far larger than even the Bughouse. This is Icarus, and it is the first vehicle to land on Mars with an airlock.

As the lander settles on the surface, the airlock cracks open, a ladder descending to the dust, and a pair of suited figures step out. One of them takes the short walk to the two stranded rovers, putting them back on their wheels. The first will simply need to recharge; the second will require work, but that’s one of his first duties when they get settled in. They’ll have plenty of time – more than a year on the surface before the window of their return to Earth.

The other astronaut walks over to Viking, looks at the lander, a smile on his face, and pats one of the support struts as though petting a dog.

“Hello, old friend,” he says. “Sorry we took so long.”

It is November 7th, 2031, and the greatest adventure in human history is about to begin...