Small Steps, Giant Leaps - Chapter 2, Part 5: 東と西 (East and West)
The Space Age of the 20th century was hardly confined to the great powers of the Soviet Union and the United States. From the days of Sputnik onwards, other burgeoning world powers had pursued their own space programs. Europe in particular was a hub of such development.
As the first country other than the USSR or USA to place a satellite into orbit with the 1965 launch of the Astérix satellite, France's ambitious plans were limited by the relatively small scale of their sounding rocket and short-range missile-derived launchers like Diamant. Lacking the resources of a superpower, the French space agency CNES turned to international partners. Britain, West Germany, and Italy had all started their own independent space programs throughout the 1960s, and though none of them had yet reached orbit, they would prove valuable partners. Together, these four nations established the international European Launcher Development and European Space Research Organizations, or ELDO and ESRO, combining their efforts in the hopes of becoming a first-rate space agency.
However, ELDO’s attempt at a European launch vehicle, the Europa rocket, would end up never making it to space. A series of launch failures during testing, followed by Britain pulling out of ELDO and Europa’s British-built first stage becoming unavailable, meant that the program was effectively doomed before placing a single satellite into orbit. Britain’s pullout from ELDO would prove equally disastrous for the UK itself, which had intended to focus on a solo launch vehicle - Black Arrow - only to have their efforts axed by overzealous budget-cutting politicians. Following two test launches and a failed orbital launch by late 1971, Black Arrow would ultimately only see a single successful orbital launch, delivering the Prospero satellite to orbit after the program had already officially been cancelled. Britain ultimately decided to rely on NASA for launch services, betting on the future Space Shuttle's success.
Europa (left) and Black Arrow (right), the first-and-only rockets of the doomed British space program (images not to scale). Image credit: Netpedia: The Web's Encyclopedia
In stark contrast, space development on the European continent itself continued at a steady clip. In 1973, the same year that ELDO and ESRO would merge into the European Space Agency that we recognize today, development began on a replacement for the Europa rocket, an even more ambitious launch vehicle with room to grow: Ariane.
First launching in 1979 after 6 years in development, Ariane quickly proved a success on the commercial launch market. As the first rocket designed specifically to carry payloads to geostationary orbit, it could offer cheaper prices than existing American expendable rockets like Atlas and Delta for such high-energy orbits. Thusly, Ariane quickly became the go-to launcher for the burgeoning geostationary communications satellite industry.
However, despite Ariane's initial success, ESA and Arianespace - the company created to manage commercial launches of the rocket - soon found competition in the form of NASA's Space Transportation System. The Shuttle, despite being individually more expensive per-launch than Ariane, had a far larger payload capacity to orbit, enabling it to deliver multiple satellites to geostationary orbit with its various solid kick stages, a capacity which would only grow with the looming introduction of Shuttle-Centaur. The new high-energy upper stage and its new multiple payload adapter, already under development for the Mars Surface Explorers, was projected to undercut Ariane so thoroughly that the rocket's business case would be destroyed.
Clearly, the only solution would be to upgrade payload capacity and reduce launch costs. Ariane - now retroactively designated Ariane 1 in light of the planned upgrade - would receive not one, not two, but three successor vehicles, work on which began almost simultaneously.
The first two additions to the Ariane family, Ariane 2 and 3 respectively, would be modest interim upgrades, lowering manufacturing costs through new techniques and improving payload capacity with stretched tanks. The differences were minor between all three, with Ariane 2 being a stretched Ariane 1, and Ariane 3 receiving a reinforced core stage to allow Diamant-derived solid rocket boosters to be fitted to the sides for even heavier payloads.
Ariane 4, the final of the initial upgrade designs, would be larger in scope, and aim to compete with Shuttle on an even footing in the commercial launch market. Alongside even more stretched tanks, the core stage was redesigned further to accomodate a variety of booster configurations to fit mission needs, from a "naked" core, to solid rocket boosters like Ariane 3, to a "full-up" version with four liquid rocket boosters each housing one Viking engine for a total of eight between LRBs and core, essentially doubling the power of the core stage with twice the engines.
As for what came after Ariane 4, things got fuzzier. There were tentative ideas for an "Ariane 5" drawn up, with a fifth core stage engine, yet more tank stretches, and further manufacturing improvements, but other ideas - and some particularly ambitious proposals from the French - left things up in the air for the time being.
Left: An Ariane 1 blasts off with a commercial payload for Intelsat in late 1983. Right: An artist's conception of the many variants of Ariane 4. Image credit: Arianespace
Although now essentially commercial rivals, ESA and NASA would collaborate closely on scientific and human missions throughout the beginning of the Shuttle era. Experience with the Sortie Lab payload bay module for the Shuttle, and with the Starlab European Lab Module, gave Europe the confidence to initiate studies into developing independent crew capability. While the Italians and British favored a simpler and more straightforward crew capsule design in the form of the "Multi-Role Recovery Capsule", the French and West Germans aimed higher, and more ambitious: Europe's first independent astronauts, they said, should be flying a spaceplane.
Originally proposed by CNES in 1975, the Hermes spaceplane design was essentially a miniature Space Shuttle with a crew cabin, service and propulsion section, and a small payload bay to deploy satellites or house research modules. Hermes would be far more capable than any capsule design, and, as a reusable vehicle, per-flight costs would be lower than the capsule even with higher development costs. The only catch was that Hermes was far too large to fit on an Ariane 4 or the proposed Ariane 5 design, so a completely new rocket would be needed, with a large hydrogen core stage and powerful boosters similar to NASA's Shuttle or the Soviet Energia, albeit on a smaller scale.
Due to its greater capability and long-term versatility, ESA would ultimately select Hermes as the proposal of choice, to fly on an enlarged, hydrogen-based Ariane 5. What started as a relatively straightforward program quickly spiraled into development hell, however, as Hermes' mass and cost grew, requiring complete redesigns of both spacecraft and launch vehicle on more than one occasion. The first launch date slipped to 1988, then 1989, then out into the 1990s. Tensions between the constituent national agencies of ESA over the delays escalated at times to bureaucratic infighting and outright shouting matches. For much of the 1980s, Hermes would remain in limbo, teetering on the brink of cancellation.
OV-101 Constitution blasts off on STS-12 / Starlab 6 in June 1983 in this artist's impression, carrying the European Lab Module. Image credit: beanhowitzer
The expanded Starlab with the European Lab Module and a new 25kW solar array is viewed from a visiting Space Shuttle lining up for docking. Image credit: beanhowitzer
Early concept art for Hermes varied wildly in appearance, reflecting the uncertain design of the spaceplane. Image credit: Netpedia: The Web's Encyclopedia
In the case of the ESA, several European countries had come together and formed a single space agency. By contrast, on the other side of the globe, Japan's early space development was almost the opposite, with several different space programs cropping up in a single country. Initially starting out as a sounding rocket research program at the University of Tokyo, the Institute of Space and Astronautical Science (ISAS) put the first Japanese satellite into orbit in 1970, a small metal spherical-conical probe named Ōsumi. Hardly a few months before this, the Japanese government had officially created its own dedicated space agency - the National Space Development Agency (NASDA) - in October of 1969. While NASDA would focus on Earth observation, commercial satellites, and launch vehicles, ISAS remained its own largely independent program, focused on astrophysical research and scientific space probes. Tensions arose between these two parallel agencies almost from the start, as unlike the symbiotic relationship of NASA and JPL in the United States, ISAS and NASDA would have to compete for the same limited space budget, split between the two. ISAS would also have to continue developing its own launch vehicles, as it was unclear whether NASDA would have the authority or spare launch capacity to lift their nominal competitor's spacecraft.
Even before the Lambda 4S rocket had lofted Ōsumi to orbit, work had already begun by ISAS on its successor, Mu. Originally intended as Japan's first orbital vehicle, Mu was only beaten to the punch by Lambda when calculations showed the up-jumped sounding rocket just barely capable of placing a small technology demonstrator satellite in orbit, and not much else. Mu, like Lambda before it, would also be an all-solid launch vehicle derived from sounding rocket technology (due, in part, to post-WWII limitations on liquid rocket development in Japan). Although the first launch attempt in 1970 would fail, the second Mu would successfully reach orbit with the Tansei 1 satellite in 1971, giving Japan a full orbital launch capability with a usable payload size.
NASDA was also interested in developing an indigenous launch vehicle, but faced two key problems: The new agency lacked ISAS' past experience, and the commercial and government geostationary communications satellites that they wanted to launch were far too large for any dinky sounding rocket-derived vehicle to lift. NASDA thus decided to work from a base of existing technology, putting their efforts towards developing a domestic upper stage while also importing tooling and blueprints for the American "Delta" rocket, boosters and all. McDonnel Douglas, Delta's manufacturer, eagerly sold the soon-to-be-obsolete design - should cost and flight rate projections for the Space Shuttle prove true, boosters like Delta were on their last legs in America anyways.
Thanks in part to its existing heritage, the 80% American "Made In Japan" design of the N-1 rocket (no relation to the Soviet N1-Rodina lunar booster, the "N" in this case standing for "Nippon") quickly proved itself a successful workhorse across half a dozen launches in the back half of the 1970s, and recieved an upgraded larger second stage to become the N-2 by the early 1980s. Even with the success of N-1/N-2, its service life would be relatively short; with the experience gained over its decade and change of existence, NASDA had become confident enough to begin work on a properly indigenous large launch vehicle. This would be a two-phase development program, with a high-energy hydrogen upper stage to be added to N-2 to become the H-1, before a final, fully-domestic upgrade into the H-2. H-2 would use hydrogen in both its first and second stages, and would be capable of carrying up to 10 tons to low Earth orbit. This expanded capability would be vital, as the Japanese government had given NASDA a new directive: independently put a Japanese astronaut in orbit by the year 2000.
An N-2 rocket carries a TV communications satellite to geostationary orbit for the Japanese Broadcasting Corporation in January 1984. Image credit: JAXA History Office
Following the destruction of WWII, Japan's economy had experienced rapid growth in what was dubbed the "Japanese economic miracle". By the 1980s, the island nation had even overtaken one of the superpowers, surpassing the USSR to become the world's second-largest economy behind only the United States. With the economic boom came higher budgets, and in 1982, the incoming administration of Prime Minister Yasuhiro Nakasone saw a crewed Japanese space program as financially viable, scientifically rewarding, and prestige-boosting on the international stage.
NASDA undertook a series of studies throughout the early 1980s into a possible crew architecture; H-2, as the sole in-development Japanese launcher large enough to carry a crew vehicle, was the rocket of choice, but the exact specifics of the vehicle itself were a matter of vigorous debate. A spaceplane "mini-Shuttle" design was considered, but ultimately decided to be too difficult a prospect, with a similar project in Europe (and, as it was rumored but only confirmed years later, the Soviet Union as well) struggling to get off the ground. The sheer complexity of NASA's successful, if long-delayed, Shuttle project was the final nail in the coffin, suggesting that developing a spaceplane from scratch couldn't possibly meet the turn-of-the-millennium goal.
Logically, then, the only other choice was a capsule, which NASDA quickly dove into developing. The Fuji spacecraft, named after the iconic stratovolcano, would consist of a truncated cone Command Module capable of supporting 4 crew and with an integrated, international-standard APAS docking port to allow future visits to space stations. A cylindrical Service Module would sit behind the heat shield, providing life support, orbital maneuvering, and power. Fuji would splash down at sea under parachute and be recovered by the Japanese Navy, with land-based touchdowns being out of the question given Japan's mountainous and urbanized terrain. While superficially similar in basic design elements to the American Apollo capsule, Fuji would be, initially, an entirely Japanese design. Although a somewhat conservative set of design choices, Fuji would easily be able to meet the 2000 goal while still offering plenty of room for potential future expansion. As it turned out, although the "independent" element of Fuji would have to wait, the vehicle would get its chance to fly long before the millennium.
By the early 1980s, NASA was deep in development of the "Space Operations Center", or SOC, a next-generation modular space station assembled by the Space Shuttle. The American agency was faced with a major problem, however: the fleet of Apollo ACRVs in use aboard Starlab had far too small a crew capacity to support the full station, and the Apollos themselves would be well beyond their expiration date by the time SOC was flying. In-house development of a brand new, from-scratch ACRV was an expensive and unfavorable prospect to a program with every dollar already being stretched thin. Western Europe and Japan, however, held the solution as close allies of the United States, and both of their agencies had independent crew vehicles in development, alongside planned international contributions to the SOC. NASA thus approached both ESA and NASDA in 1984, to see if their crew vehicles could be adapted to serve as ACRVs.
When the 1984 Request for Proposals was issued, ESA's Hermes spaceplane was still deeply mired in so-called "development hell", and the Europeans were not prepared to guarantee the necessary modifications for months or even years of on-orbit lifetime. Fuji, by contrast, had a well-defined design and mission, and was similar to the already-proven Apollo ACRV. NASDA quickly won what was hardly a battle to begin with, and collaborative design work began on adapting Fuji to NASA's needs.
The baseline Fuji would become Fuji Standard, or Fuji-S, while the ACRV would be Fuji Minimum, or Fuji-M. In order to meet the SOC's planned assembly start date and the phasing out of the Apollo ACRVs, NASA could not afford to wait for H2 and the full vehicle to be ready. Fuji-M would thus consist of a Command Module with storage removed to expand its capacity from four crew to an uncomfortable seven, with a barebones Deorbit Module consisting of basic RCS and a solid rocket motor replacing the full Service Module. Fuji-M would be incapable of independent flight outside of a quick emergency return, so like the Apollo ACRVs before it, it would be carried up in the Shuttle's Payload Bay and swapped out between missions.
Fuji-M's final design essentially resembles an Apollo CSM cut in half. Note the compact deorbit booster taking the place of a full Service Module. Image credit: beanhowitzer