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Sept 3, 2022
Years after shuttle, NASA
rediscovers the perils of liquid hydrogen
"Every time we saw a leak, it
pretty quickly exceeded our flammability limits."
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NASA's Space Launch System rocket
at LC-39B on September 1, 2022.
KENNEDY SPACE CENTER, Fla.—America's
space agency on Saturday sought to launch a rocket largely cobbled
together from the space shuttle, which itself was designed and built
more than four decades ago.
As the space shuttle often was delayed
due to technical problems, it therefore comes as scant surprise that
the debut launch of NASA's Space Launch System rocket was scrubbed a
few hours before its launch window opened. The showstopper was an
8-inch diameter line carrying liquid hydrogen into the rocket. It
sprang a persistent leak at the inlet, known as a quick-disconnect,
leading onboard the vehicle.
Valiantly, the launch team at Kennedy
Space Center tried three different times to stanch the leak, all to no
avail. Finally at 11:17 am ET, hours behind on their timeline to fuel
the rocket, launch director Charlie Blackwell-Thompson called a halt.
What comes next depends on what engineers
and technicians find on Monday when they inspect the vehicle at the
launch pad. If the launch team decides it can replace the
quick-disconnect hardware at the pad, it may be an option to perform a
partial fueling test to determine the integrity of the fix. This may
allow NASA to keep the vehicle on the pad ahead of the next launch.
Alternatively, the engineers may decide the repairs are best performed
inside the Vehicle Assembly Building and roll the rocket back inside.
Due to the orbital dynamics of the
Artemis I mission to fly an uncrewed Orion spacecraft to the Moon,
NASA will next have an opportunity to launch from September 19 to
October 4. However, making that window would necessitate fixing the
rocket at the pad and then getting a waiver from the US Space Force,
which operates the launch range along the Florida coast.
At issue is the flight termination
system, which is powered independently of the rocket, with batteries
rated for 25 days. NASA would need to extend that battery rating to
about 40 days. The space agency is expected to have those discussions
with range officials soon.
If the rocket is rolled back to the
Vehicle Assembly Building, which would be necessary to service the
flight termination system or perform more than cursory work at the
launch pad, NASA has another Artemis I launch opportunity from October
17 to October 31.
A tiny, tiny element
The space shuttle was an extremely
complex vehicle, mingling the use of solid-rocket boosters—which are
something akin to very, very powerful firecrackers—along with
exquisitely built main engines powered by the combustion of liquid
hydrogen propellant and liquid oxygen to serve as an oxidizer.
Over its lifetime, due to this
complexity, the shuttle on average scrubbed nearly once every launch
attempt. Some shuttle flights scrubbed as many as five times before
finally lifting off. For launch controllers, it never really got a
whole lot easier to manage the space shuttle's complex fueling
process, and hydrogen was frequently a culprit.
Hydrogen is the most abundant element in
the universe, but it is also the lightest. It takes 600 sextillion
hydrogen atoms to reach the mass of a single gram. Because it is so
tiny, hydrogen can squeeze through the smallest of gaps. This is not
so great a problem at ambient temperatures and pressures, but at
super-chilled temperatures and high pressures, hydrogen easily oozes
out of any available opening.
To keep a rocket's fuel tanks topped off,
propellant lines leading from ground-based systems must remain
attached to the booster until the very moment of launch. In the final
second, the "quick-disconnects" at the ends of these lines break away
from the rocket. The difficulty is that, in order to be fail-safes in
disconnecting from the rocket, this equipment cannot be bolted
together tightly enough to entirely preclude the passage of hydrogen
atoms—it is extremely difficult to seal these connections under high
pressure and low temperatures.
NASA, therefore, has a tolerance for a
small amount of hydrogen leakage. Anything above a 4 percent
concentration of hydrogen in the purge area near the quick disconnect,
however, is considered a flammability hazard. "We were
seeing in excess of that by two or three times that," said Mike
Sarafin, NASA's Artemis I mission manager, of Saturday's hydrogen
leak. "It was pretty clear we weren’t going to be able to work our way
through it. Every time we saw a leak, it pretty quickly exceeded our
flammability limits."
Twice, launch controllers stopped the
flow of hydrogen into the vehicle in hopes that the quick-disconnect
would warm a little bit. They hoped that, when they restarted slowly
flowing cryogenic hydrogen onboard the rocket, the quick-disconnect
would find a tighter fit with the booster. It did not. Another time
they tried applying a significant amount of pressure to re-seat the
quick disconnect.
NASA officials are still assessing the
cause of the leak, but they believe it may have been due to an errant
valve being opened. This occurred during the process of chilling down
the rocket prior to loading liquid hydrogen. Amid a sequence of about
a dozen commands being sent to the rocket, a command was sent to a
wrong valve to open. This was rectified within 3 or 4 seconds, Sarafin
said. However, during this time, the hydrogen line that would develop
a problematic quick-disconnect was briefly over-pressurized.
Deferring to the experts
So why does NASA use liquid hydrogen as a
fuel for its rockets if it is so difficult to work with and there are
easier-to-handle alternatives such as methane or kerosene? One reason
is that hydrogen is a very efficient fuel, meaning that it provides
better "gas mileage" when used in rocket engines. However, the real
answer is that Congress mandated that NASA continue to use space
shuttle main engines as part of the SLS rocket program.
In 2010, when Congress wrote
the authorization bill for NASA that led to the creation of the
Space Launch System, it directed the agency to "utilize existing
contracts, investments, workforce, industrial base, and capabilities
from the Space Shuttle and Orion and Ares 1 projects, including ...
existing United States propulsion systems, including liquid fuel
engines, external tank or tank related capability, and solid rocket
motor engines."
During a news conference on Saturday, Ars
asked NASA Administrator Bill Nelson whether it was the right decision
for NASA to continue working with hydrogen after the agency's
experience with the space shuttle. In 2010, Nelson was a US Senator
from Florida and ringleader of the space authorization bill alongside
US Sen. Kay Bailey Hutchison, of Texas. "We deferred to the experts,"
Nelson said.
By this Nelson meant that the Senate
worked alongside some officials at NASA, and within industry, to
design the SLS rocket. These industry officials, who would continue to
win lucrative contracts from NASA for their work on shuttle-related
hardware, were only too happy to support the new rocket design.
Among the idea's opponents was Lori
Garver, who served as NASA's deputy administrator at the time. She
said the decision to use space shuttle components for the agency's
next-generation rocket seemed like a terrible idea, given the
challenges of working with hydrogen demonstrated over the previous
three decades.
"They took finicky, expensive programs
that couldn't fly very often, stacked them together differently, and
said now, all of a sudden, it's going to be cheap and easy," she told
Ars in August. "Yeah, we've flown them before, but they've proven to
be problematic and challenging. This is one of the things that boggled
my mind. What about it was going to change? I attribute it to this
sort of group think, the contractors and the self-licking ice cream
cone."
Now, NASA faces the challenge of managing
this finicky hardware through more inspections and tests after so many
already. The rocket's core stage, manufactured by Boeing, was shipped
from its factory in Louisiana more than two and a half years ago. It
underwent nearly a year of testing in Mississippi before arriving at
Kennedy Space Center in April 2021. Since then, NASA and its
contractors have been assembling the complete rocket and testing it on
the launch pad.
Effectively, Saturday's "launch" attempt
was the sixth time NASA has tried to completely fuel the first and
second stages of the rocket, and then get deep into the countdown. To
date, it has not succeeded with any of these fueling tests, known as
wet dress rehearsals. On Saturday, the core stage's massive liquid
hydrogen tank, with a capacity of more than 500,000 gallons, was only
11 percent full when the scrub was called.
Perhaps the seventh time will be a charm.
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NASA's Space Launch System Rocket at LC-39B, preparing to lift off at
8:33 am ET on August 29th, 2022.
President Eisenhower signed the law
establishing the National Aeronautics and Space Administration on July
29, 1958. At the time, the United States had put about 30 kg of small
satellites into orbit. Less than 11 years later, Neil Armstrong and
Buzz Aldrin landed on the Moon.
President Obama signed a NASA
Authorization Act on October 11, 2010. Among its provisions, the law
called on NASA to create the Space Launch System rocket and have it
ready for launch in 2016. It seemed reasonable. At the time, NASA had
been launching rockets, including very large ones, for half a century.
And in some sense, this new SLS rocket was already built.
The most challenging aspect of almost any
launch vehicle is its engines. No problem—the SLS rocket would use
engines left over from the space shuttle program. Its side-mounted
boosters would be slightly larger versions of those that powered the
shuttle for three decades. The newest part of the vehicle would be its
large core stage, housing liquid hydrogen and oxygen fuel tanks to
feed the rocket's four main engines. But even this component was
derivative. The core stage's 8.4-meter diameter was identical to the
space shuttle's external tank, which carried the same propellants for
the shuttle's main engines.
Alas, construction wasn't that easy.
NASA's SLS rocket program has been a hot mess almost from the
beginning. It has been efficient at precisely one thing, spreading
jobs around to large aerospace contractors in the states of key
congressional committee leaders. Because of this, lawmakers have
overlooked years of delays, a more than doubling in development costs
to above $20 billion, and the availability of far cheaper and reusable
rockets built by the private sector.
So here we are, nearly a dozen years
after that authorization act was signed, and NASA is finally ready to
launch the SLS rocket. It took the agency 11 years to go from nothing
to the Moon. It has taken 12 years to go from having all the building
blocks for a rocket to having it on the launch pad, ready for an
uncrewed test flight.
I have decidedly mixed emotions.
With the launch just days away, I am
incredibly happy for the people at NASA and the space companies
that have worked hard, cut through the bureaucracy, managed
thousands of requirements, and actually got this rocket built.
And I'm eager to see it fly. Who doesn't want to watch a huge,
Brobdingnagian rocket consume millions of kilograms of fuel and
break the surly bonds of Earth's gravity?
On the less happy side, it remains
difficult to celebrate a rocket that, in many ways, is
responsible for a lost decade of US space exploration. The
financial costs of the program have been enormous. Between the
rocket, its ground systems, and the Orion spacecraft launching
on top of the stack, NASA has spent tens of billions of dollars.
But I would argue that
the
opportunity costs are higher. For a decade, Congress pushed
NASA's exploration focus toward an Apollo-like program, with a
massive launch vehicle that is utterly expended, using 1970s
technology in its engines, tanks, and boosters.
Effectively, NASA was told to look
backward when this country's vibrant commercial space industry
was ready to push toward sustainable spaceflight by building big
rockets and landing them—or storing propellant in space or
building reusable tugs to go back and forth between the Earth
and Moon. It's as if Congress told NASA to keep printing
newspapers in a world with broadband Internet.
It didn't have to be this way. In
fact, a handful of visionary space policy leaders tried to stop
the wastefulness but were beaten back by the defense industry
and its allies in Congress.
For me personally, this is also the
end of an era. In many ways, this rocket has mirrored my career
as a journalist and writer covering the space industry. So as we
approach this momentous launch, I want to tell the story—the
real story—about where this came from and where it's going.
I will make the case that the SLS rocket is the worst thing, and
perhaps simultaneously the best thing, to ever happen to NASA.
I believe this story can still have
a happy ending.
The side-mounted boosters on the
SLS rocket are derived from the space shuttle program
Back to the beginning
I have written about the space program
for two decades, dating back to the space shuttle Columbia
disaster in February 2003. This tragedy forced Washington, DC-based
space policymakers to reckon with the end of the space shuttle program
and decide what NASA would do afterward.
The resulting search for a credible deep
space exploration program has dominated NASA's human spaceflight
programs for the last two decades, and it ultimately brought us to the
SLS rocket and the Artemis Moon Program. There have also been two
other very important macro trends. One is the rise of commercial
spaceflight and its profusion of rockets and satellites. SpaceX,
founded in 2002, is the exemplar of this new space movement. The other
sweeping change has been the ascension of China's space program, which
flew its first astronaut into orbit in 2003.
These three events—the demise of
Columbia, the founding of SpaceX, and China's first human
spaceflight—mark the beginning of the modern spaceflight era. I have
had a privileged front-row seat to the changes wrought by these events
over the last two decades, and it has been fascinating to watch the US
human spaceflight enterprise finally move on from a model that was
more or less established in the 1960s and 1970s into a modern,
dynamic, and innovative era. But it hasn't been easy to get there.
After the Columbia disaster,
President Bush
set broad goals for NASA: completing the International Space
Station by 2010 and retiring the aging space shuttle, flying a deep
space crew vehicle (which would later be named Orion) with astronauts
by 2014, and returning humans to the Moon by 2020 with the
Constellation Program. NASA finished the ISS and retired the shuttle
by 2011, but it whiffed on the other goals. The reasons are
complicated, but I would argue that the biggest impediment came from
large aerospace contractors such as Boeing, Lockheed Martin, and
Northrop Grumman insisting on getting large pieces of the funding
pie—and having the Congressional influence to get their way.
The contractors—it's no stretch to call
them Big Aerospace, as they all rank among
the top US
defense contractors—won their first battle in 2005. As NASA looked
for the best way to get astronauts back into deep space, the choice
was between a transportation system derived from the space shuttle or
working with the existing Atlas and Delta rockets used by the US
military, the so-called Evolved Expendable Launch Vehicles.
Ultimately,
NASA decided to build rockets using its own shuttle components.
Conveniently, this plan promised the most development money for the
big contractors.
In an analysis of this approach, noted
lunar scientist Paul Spudis
wrote that while the Constellation architecture might eventually
work, it required far more funding than was available. NASA's
unwillingness to adopt possible alternatives, he concluded, became "a
programmatic straitjacket." Spudis' preferred alternative was to use
the commercially available Atlas and Delta rockets and to develop
propellant depots in orbit to refuel them for lunar missions.
Spudis was right. The Bush administration
never fought for the billions of additional dollars needed for
Constellation, and Congress was in no hurry to see real progress.
Predictably, a couple of years later, the Constellation development
programs were badly behind schedule and over budget.
President Obama's election in 2008 set
the stage for the second battle. He appointed aerospace executive Norm
Augustine to lead a review of NASA's human exploration efforts. The
first sentence of this
156-page report was succinct, and it encapsulated the problem:
"The US human spaceflight program appears to be on an unsustainable
trajectory."
Accordingly, the Obama administration
sought a sustainable path forward and looked to the commercial space
industry for help. By then, SpaceX had successfully launched its
Falcon 1 rocket for the first time and was well into the development
of the larger Falcon 9 rocket. Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos was investing
hundreds of millions of dollars into building a large rocket at Blue
Origin. And United Launch Alliance was considering options to
modernize its Atlas and Delta rockets.
In its fiscal year 2011 budget request,
the Obama administration sought to cancel the Ares I and Ares V
rockets, as well as Orion, and instead spend $3.1 billion to fund the
development of a future heavy-lift launch system. Essentially, this
money would have been competed for by private industry, allowing them
to perform research and development on propulsion technologies. The
goal was to finalize the designs of new commercial rockets by 2015 and
start to build them thereafter through a public-private partnership.
Had this program happened, SpaceX Starship and Blue Origin's New Glenn
vehicles might already be flying regularly.
Congress was aghast, of course, because
this plan would have reduced its control of funding by letting private
companies compete for contracts. The blowback to Obama's proposals,
from both Republicans and Democrats, was tremendous.
"Given that we proposed terminating
contracts worth billions of dollars, the negative response to the
budget was not surprising," wrote NASA's deputy administrator at the
time, Lori Garver, in her book Escaping Gravity. "Since NASA
hadn't been a part of a larger national agenda for decades, its
standard bearers included self-selected senators and representatives
with existing contracts and jobs in their districts whose primary
interest was often maintaining the status quo."
Congress, who had the power of the purse,
struck back. It grudgingly allowed a few hundred million dollars for
NASA to fund the "commercial crew program" that ultimately led to the
development of SpaceX's Crew Dragon and Boeing Starliner vehicles. In
turn, it got in excess of $3 billion a year for the Orion spacecraft
and a new rocket, the Space Launch System. This time, Congress did not
mess around. It wrote the rocket's authorization to ensure that its
preferred contractors, including Boeing and Northrop Grumman, got big
pieces of the action.
Big Aerospace had won its second large
battle in five years over NASA's deep space exploration plans, and it
has been a lasting victory. All told, NASA has now spent about $50
billion on Ares, Orion, and SLS hardware and ground systems. But
ultimately, this may be a Pyrrhic victory.
“SLS is real”
In 2009, I was starting to cover space
full-time for the Houston Chronicle, in addition to reporting about
science and the region's myriad hurricanes. As the 40th anniversary of
the Apollo 11 landing on the Moon approached, I called Chris Kraft,
NASA's first and most legendary flight director, for whom Mission
Control in Houston was named. I collected some quotes, and toward the
end of the interview, we realized we were practically neighbors in
Clear Lake.
He invited me to come by sometime, and we
struck up a friendship over the next decade. (He died at the age of
95, just six days after the 50th anniversary of the Apollo 11
landing.) Every couple of months, I would drive over to his house in
the afternoon, following his morning tee time, and we would sip
Coca-Cola in his upstairs den. By then, Kraft had been waiting decades
for something to happen with humans in deep space since Apollo, and
nothing had. So he was frustrated.
Kraft liked the initial idea behind the
Constellation Program but saw the problems it ran into when the
promised funding ran short. By the time Congress told NASA to build
the SLS rocket, he wasn't having any of it.
"It's very expensive to design, it's very
expensive to develop," he told me nearly a decade ago. "When they
actually begin to develop it, the budget is going to go haywire.
They're going to have all kinds of technical and development issues
crop up, which will drive the development costs up. Then there are the
operating costs of that beast, which will eat NASA alive if they get
there. They're not going to be able to fly it more than once a year,
if that, because they don't have the budget to do it. So what you've
got is a beast of a rocket, that would give you all of this
capability, which you can't build because you don't have the money to
build it in the first place, and you can't operate it if you had it."
His arguments, which have proven entirely
correct, convinced me at the time. I started to make my name as a
space journalist writing critically—and I would argue incisively—about
the SLS program at a time when many space journalists played it more
neutral. In 2014, I wrote
a seven-part
series in the Chronicle titled "Adrift," with the central thesis
being that NASA's deep space program was off course.
To the extent that the series is
remembered today, it's because of a quote given to me by then-NASA
Administrator Charles Bolden. I asked him why NASA needed a heavy-lift
rocket when SpaceX had started to build the Falcon Heavy, which had
about 70 percent of the lift capacity of the SLS booster, at less than
10 percent the cost. (An expendable Falcon Heavy costs about $150
million. A single launch of the SLS rocket costs at least $2 billion
per year.)
"Let’s be very honest,”
Bolden said
in response. "We don’t have a commercially available heavy-lift
vehicle. The Falcon 9 Heavy may some day come about. It’s on the
drawing board right now. SLS is real."
The Falcon Heavy flew for the first time
in 2018 and is now commercially available. Bolden's comment
has become a meme.
What happened with the SLS program in the
years since "Adrift" should surprise no one. The program's funding
level has increased, and its development has been stretched out. The
cost-plus contracting mechanism NASA used to fund development of the
vehicle incentivizes Boeing and other contractors to spend more time
and money working on a vehicle because they get more fees for a longer
period. The SLS was sold to the public as a rocket that would be
developed on time and on budget because it was derivative of the
shuttle and used heritage hardware. Its cost-plus contract ensured the
opposite occurred.
For all of these reasons, but
particularly because of its opportunity costs and backward looking
nature, the SLS rocket is just about the worst thing to happen to NASA
in the last six decades.
Rise of commercial space
For Big Aerospace, however, the party may
be ending. One of the sweeping changes we've seen in the aerospace
industry during the last two decades is the rise of new players.
SpaceX is most notable among them, and it's certainly the most
disruptive, but it's far from the only entrant.
Bolden's comment is amusing in hindsight
because Falcon Heavy beat the SLS rocket to orbit by at least four and
a half years. But it's also telling that SpaceX's next-generation
rocket, the Starship vehicle, also very nearly beat the SLS rocket to
orbit. If Starship reaches even half its potential, it will exceed the
SLS rocket in every possible way. It's more powerful, far less
expensive, and fully reusable, and it can launch hundreds of times a
year—not once.
Those who have focused on the "space
race" this year between SLS and Starship have missed the point. The
real question is not which of the two super heavy-lift rockets
launches first. Rather, it's "how many Starships will launch between
the first and second flights of the SLS rocket?"
Nominally, the second SLS mission is due
to fly in 2024, but it will probably slip into 2025. Conceivably,
Starship could launch a dozen times between now and then. Maybe 30
times. Perhaps more. More than a decade ago, the Augustine commission
said NASA should find a sustainable trajectory. Low-cost, reusable
rockets are, quite clearly, NASA's sustainable trajectory.
And NASA is already buying into this
future. Since letting the SLS and Orion contracts, it has almost
exclusively awarded "fixed-price" contracts for other elements of its
exploration programs. Through these contracts, NASA has moved more
toward buying services from the US commercial space industry as
opposed to providing a top-level design and controlling every step of
the development process.
"This has been a really tough
thing," said Kathy Lueders, who leads operational human exploration
for NASA, at the ASCENDx Conference in Houston in April. "NASA has had
a very hard time going from saying 'I'm the one doing it" to
'We are doing it.'"
![](images/images_09_06_2022/pic10.jpg)
SpaceX's Falcon Heavy rocket has 70 percent the lift capacity of the
SLS rocket, at less than a tenth of the cost.
But that effort has been worth it.
Lueders explained that NASA is working with industry to create as many
types of partnerships as possible to meet the demands of its various
missions. The focus is on helping the industry understand what NASA
needs and then trying to buy services that those companies can also
sell to other space customers. This incentivizes private industry to
self-invest in these technologies and deliver low-cost, timely
products.
"We do that because we feel like this is
important for us as a nation to maintain our leadership in space,"
Lueders said. "Every nation in the world is envious of the way we have
created these new relationships with our commercial industry."
NASA proved this in April 2021 when the
agency selected SpaceX's Starship to serve as the "Human Landing
System" for the Artemis Moon Program. This was almost unimaginable
even a couple of years ago, but now the ambitious Starship vehicle is
firmly on NASA's critical path back to the Moon. For now, Starship
will merely ferry astronauts down to the Moon from lunar orbit and
back up. But it's not too difficult to see astronauts eventually
launching from Earth in Starship and returning there in the same way.
If Starship can be shown to be safe and effective—still ifs, to be
sure—it is far superior to SLS and Orion in cost,
reusability, and cadence.
The irony is that Congress has agreed to
fund Starship at the level of $2.9 billion for development and a
couple of lunar missions. That's less than what NASA spends annually
on SLS and Orion development costs, but it's still significant. And
more importantly, in funding Starship, Congress is funding the
rocket that will one day almost certainly put its beloved SLS booster
out of business.
Where we go from here
The reality is that commercial space has
already won the rocket wars. The industry trend appears to be
irrevocably headed toward reuse. Beyond Starship, Blue Origin is
building a large rocket, New Glenn, that is eventually intended to
have a fully reusable first and second stage. Relativity Space is
building the fully reusable large Terran R rocket. The legacy rocket
company United Launch Alliance, which is co-owned by Boeing and
Lockheed Martin, is studying the reuse of main engines on its new
Vulcan rocket. Even Europe—stodgy old institutional Europe!—is looking
at developing a reusable heavy-lift rocket in the next decade.
The reason I say that SLS was one of the
best things to happen to NASA is simple. In hindsight, it's the
political price the agency had to pay to bring Congress on board with
a real deep space exploration program. The Artemis Program—which
certainly is NASA's most "real" human deep space exploration program
since Apollo—was created by Vice President Mike Pence and
then-administrator Jim Bridenstine about three years ago. Congress
only went along because Bridenstine promised to use the SLS rocket for
all human launches to the Moon.
Since then, Congress has increasingly
funded other elements needed to make Artemis real, including SpaceX's
lunar lander and spacesuits for the lunar surface. For now, Congress
will not buy into Artemis if NASA moves away from the SLS rocket and
Orion spacecraft. So thanks to these programs, NASA has a bona fide
plan to send humans back to the Moon—and possibly, someday, to Mars.
What happens next comes down to
execution. If the SLS rocket works well, great. It can serve as an
interim heavy lifter while SpaceX and its brethren continue to work on
their large, game-changing launch systems. As those come online, the
use of the SLS and eventually Orion will become obsolete. That could
happen in three years. Or five. Or 10. It really doesn't matter. At
some point, NASA will find itself with a full-fledged deep space
program and no need for congressionally mandated rockets. It will
happen—that Starship has sailed.
So thanks, big orange rocket, for
greasing the skids. Good luck on climbing that gravity hill next week.
We'll all be watching and cheering you on, though not all of us will
mourn your eventual demise.
Green Play Ammonia™, Yielder® NFuel Energy.
Spokane, Washington. 99212
www.exactrix.com
509 995 1879 cell, Pacific.
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