Category Energiya-Buran

Despite all the criticism, preparations continued at Baykonur for future Buran missions. In the summer of 1990 the OK-MT full-scale test orbiter spent a month on pad 37 (6 July-7 August) for crew boarding and evacuation exercises and also for tests in which the fuel cells were loaded with liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen.

By the first half of 1991 more than two years had elapsed since the first flight, making many wonder if a second flight was going to take place at all. Space officials kept stressing that the 2K1 mission to Mir was still on and would be flown sometime in 1992. One glimmer of hope was a test roll-out of the 2K orbiter to the launch pad in May 1991.

However, it wasn’t long before Buran’s future was further thrown into doubt by events that shook the very foundations of the Soviet Union. On 19 August 1991 tanks rolled into Moscow as a group of Communist Party hardliners calling themselves the State Emergency Committee attempted to take control of the country while Gorbachov was vacationing in the Crimea. The coup was timed to prevent the signing of a new Union Treaty which would have fundamentally recast the relationship between the center and the republics in favor of the latter. Although the putsch collapsed in only three days, it accelerated the events that would lead to the dis­integration of the USSR at the end of the year. Adding to the growing unpopularity of the space program was the fact that one of the coup plotters had been Oleg Baklanov, who had been a strong supporter of the Energiya-Buran program in particular.

In the wake of the failed coup the Russian government took over the union government, ministry by ministry. In the autumn of 1991 the Ministry of General Machine Building was dissolved. The rocket and space enterprises located on Russian territory were transferred to the Russian Ministry of the Industry. Many of the enterprises were expected to merge into specialized conglomerates that would be

subordinate to an organization called Rosobshchemash. Established in October 1991 on the vestiges of the Ministry of General Machine Building, it would act as a middleman between the Russian government and other nations for space and defense project orders. It was headed by outgoing MOM minister Oleg Shishkin, with Yuriy Koptev acting as his deputy for space matters. However, several leading companies, including NPO Energiya, refused to join Rosobshchemash. As Koptev later recalled, the organization was ineffective in bringing together the Russian space industry. In December 1991 leading space officials requested the government to set up a Russian Space Agency, in response to which a special commission was created led by Yegor Gaydar, the Minister of Economy and Finance [14].

The committee’s findings were presented to President Boris Yeltsin during a key meeting at the Kremlin on 18 February 1992. It was attended among others by Yuriy Semyonov, Gleb Lozino-Lozinskiy, TsNIIMash director Vladimir Utkin, Vice-President of the Academy of Sciences Yevgeniy Velikhov and Koptev, who had been Gaydar’s deputy in the committee and was the leading candidate to head the new agency. While the formation of the agency topped the agenda, the meeting also addressed the future of specific programs. Opening the meeting, Yeltsin spoke out against the continuation of the Energiya-Buran program. Semyonov countered the President by saying that its cancellation would be a repeat of the flawed decision to terminate the N-l program in the 1970s and would deal an irreparable blow to the country’s scientific, technical, military, and industrial potential. Semyonov was sup­ported by Koptev and Utkin, while Velikhov echoed Yeltsin’s sentiments, calling for an immediate shutdown of the program. The official minutes of the meeting said the future of the Energiya-Buran program would require further analysis, but according to the official history of NPO Energiya “all present at the meeting felt that the fate of the program had been sealed.’’ On 25 February 1992 Yeltsin issued an edict approv­ing the establishment of the Russian Space Agency (RKA) [15].

After the failed launch of the Skif-DM/Polyus payload by Energiya 6SL on 15 May 1987 (see Chapter 6), KB Salyut continued work on the Skif project, albeit at a slow pace. Original plans to launch Skif-D1 (without a laser payload) and Skif-D2 (with a laser payload) in 1987 and 1988 soon turned out to be unattainable. Several major components of Skif-D1 (both for the FSB and the Payload Module) were finished at the Khrunichev factory by early 1987, but serious problems with the development of the vehicle’s acquisition, tracking, and pointing system delayed the final assembly of the spacecraft. That, combined with the declining support from the Gorbachov administration for Star Wars programs, led to the suspension of all Skif-related work at KB Salyut and the Khrunichev factory in September 1987.

While Skif was supposed to use laser-type weapons to destroy low-orbiting satellites, KB Salyut concurrently also developed the Kaskad system, armed with conventional missiles to destroy satellites in medium and geostationary orbits. Vir­

tually nothing has been revealed about this project, but it was almost certainly also supposed to be launched by Energiya [59].

The Universal Test Stand and Launch Pad, used for Energiya fueling tests, test firings, and also for the first launch of Energiya in May 1987, is in relatively good condition. Also run by NIIkhimmash, it is being maintained by a 110-man strong team. Key systems such as the sound suppression water system are still intact. The huge “tank farm’’ situated at some distance from the pad is now used to store liquid oxygen, liquid hydrogen, nitrogen, and helium for other programs [83].

There have been several proposals to revive the UKSS for new rocket programs. One suggestion around the turn of the century was to use it for test launches of the Avrora rocket, a much upgraded version of the Soyuz rocket that would be launched on commercial missions from Christmas Island in the Indian Ocean under a contract between the Asia Pacific Space Center, RKK Energiya, and several other Russian organizations. Unfortunately, the deal to build the rocket and the island launch pad fell through [84]. The UKSS has also been eyed to serve as a launch pad operated and financed jointly by CIS countries for launches of Angara rockets. In the late 1990s there was RKK Energiya’s short-lived Sodruzhestvo proposal and more recently the UKSS was also considered for the Russian/Kazakh Bayterek complex. However, it was later decided that Bayterek will be built on an old Proton site. In late 2004 a group of US experts visited the UKSS and supporting facilities to study its possible use as “an international spaceport’’, but nothing has been heard of such plans since [85].

At any rate, UKSS’ designers say the pad can be quite easily modified to accommodate launch vehicles other than Energiya. Against Soviet/Russian tradition, it would even be possible to assemble rockets on the UKSS vertically. That may eventually become a necessity, because at least part of the railroad track that used to connect the UKSS with the MIK RN has reportedly been removed and reused to connect that assembly building with Site 31 for Starsem missions. The two crawler transporters remain parked outside the MIK RN [86].

Quite possibly, the next Russian winged spacecraft to make its appearance will not be a state-sponsored vehicle, but one financed by the private sector for suborbital tourist missions. Suborbital space tourism got a major boost in the 1990s with the initiation of the X-Prize (later renamed Ansari X-Prize), a $10 million prize designed to jumpstart the space tourism industry through competition between entrepreneurs and rocket experts around the world. The cash prize would be awarded to the first team that privately built and launched a spaceship capable of carrying three people to 100 km altitude and repeat that launch with the same ship within two weeks.

One of the 26 contenders for the X-Prize was a consortium consisting of the Experimental Machine Building Factory (EMZ) in Zhukovskiy, the Russian Sub­orbital Corporation, and the Virginia-based company Space Adventures, which also brokers deals for millionaires wishing to fly to the International Space Station. On 14 March 2002 the consortium unveiled plans for a system called Constellation XXI, consisting of the M-55X carrier aircraft and the C-XXI suborbital vehicle, both designed by EMZ, which played a leading role in the Buran program as part of NPO Molniya. The M-55X is a modified version of the M-55 “Geofizika”, a high – altitude research aircraft that made its debut in 1988. Journalists invited to EMZ’s facilities were shown one of the M-55 aircraft with a wooden mock-up of the rocket plane suspended above it. The C-XXI was described as a 7.7 m long and 2.02 m high vehicle capable of carrying one pilot and two passengers. It was made up of a crew module and a jettisonable engine unit.

The plan was for the M-55X to carry the C-XXI to an altitude of 17 km, where the pair would separate at a speed of 750 km/h. Shortly afterwards, the C-XXI would ignite a solid-fuel rocket engine that would accelerate it to a speed of 1,600 km/h and take it to an altitude of 50 km. After engine burnout, the engine unit would be separated, while the rocket plane continued to an altitude of over 100 km, allowing the passengers to experience 3 to 5 minutes of weightlessness. The C-XXI would then make a 360° turn to glide to a landing on an ordinary runway at a speed of 220 km/h. All three crew members were supposed to wear pressure suits and could be ejected from the vehicle during the entire piggyback ride on the M-55X as well as during the early and final stages of the ship’s autonomous flight [33].

The Ansari X-Prize was eventually won by Mojave Aerospace Ventures/Scaled Composites, the team led by the famed US aerospace designer Burt Rutan and sponsored by financier Paul Allen. After several powered test flights earlier in the year, the team’s SpaceShipOne, dropped from the White Knight One carrier aircraft, made two successful suborbital flights in September-October 2004 less than two weeks apart. Building upon the success of SpaceShipOne, Rutan teamed up in July 2005 with the British business tycoon Richard Branson to form a new aerospace production company (the “Spaceship Company”) that will build a fleet of commer­cial suborbital spaceships (SpaceShipTwo) and launch aircraft (White Knight Two). Owned and operated by a company called Virgin Galactic, at least five ships will be carrying two pilots and up to six paying passengers on suborbital flights reaching an altitude of 140 km.

Although Constellation XXI lost out in the X-Prize competition, its design now serves as the basis for a new suborbital tourist project that may eventually compete with Virgin Galactic. Space Adventures has again joined forces with EMZ to build an advanced version of the C-XXI that will use the same M-55X as its parent aircraft. Dubbed Explorer, the rocket plane will be able to haul five people to the edge of space and have emergency rescue systems similar to those of its predecessor. Also part of the partnership is Texas-based Prodea, a firm founded by the Ansari family, which put up the $10 million prize money for the X-Prize competition. Space Adventures intends to sell Explorer vehicles to operator companies to conduct the actual missions. It has deals in place to fly the Explorer vehicles from spaceports near major airports in the United Arab Emirates and Singapore [34].

Whatever the motives, by the middle of 1975 a number of joint meetings between officials of the Ministry of General Machine Building and the Ministry of Defense resulted in a Soviet shuttle taking center stage in future plans for the country’s piloted space program. There seems to have been particular pressure from GUKOS, headed at the time by Andrey Karas. The consensus by now was also that the vehicle should be similar in size to the Space Shuttle in order to respond to whatever threat the

American vehicle would eventually pose. It was also felt that the time needed to develop a big or small shuttle wouldn’t be too different anyway.

From an economic and operational viewpoint, there was clearly no immediate need for the Soviet Union to build a shuttle, but in times of almost limitless budgets for defense-related programs any such considerations were easily outweighed by military arguments. Still, there was much division in the industry, mainly within NPO Energiya, on the need to press ahead. Therefore, GUKOS ordered the TsNII-50 research institute to perform a study of the military potential of such a system. Strangely enough, TsNII-50 head Gennadiy Melnikov, wishing to satisfy both camps, ordered preparation of two reports, one confirming the need to build a Shuttle equivalent, and the other demonstrating there was no need for such a system. The negative report was sent to the opponents of the reusable spacecraft and the positive report to the proponents. Eventually, however, both reports landed on the desk of Dmitriy Ustinov, who was dismayed to learn that two contradictory reports had been prepared by one and the same institute. Ustinov subsequently summoned Glushko to his office to clarify the situation, but Glushko, still not enthusiastic about a shuttle program, instead decided to send Valeriy Burdakov.

Burdakov, an avid shuttle supporter, had headed the shuttle team under Mishin, but after Glushko’s arrival had been demoted to a position under shuttle chief designer Sadovskiy. Glushko’s decision not to go himself and not even send Sadovskiy was his way of showing his lack of interest in the program, but it apparently had a boomerang effect. Burdakov and Ustinov talked at length about reusable spacecraft, with Ustinov showing particular interest in the military applica­tions of such systems. Asked about the goals of the US Space Shuttle, Burdakov told Ustinov among other things about its capability to place giant laser complexes into orbit. The two agreed that much of the N-l infrastructure at Baykonur (mainly the giant N-l assembly building and the two launch pads) could be modified for use by a reusable spacecraft. The conversation ended with Ustinov ordering Sadovskiy’s department to draw up a detailed report outlining the possible designs, missions, and operational aspects of a Soviet reusable space system [21].

Given Ustinov’s influence, this order was more than a trivial matter and a considerable step on the road to final approval of a Soviet shuttle system. In

September 1975 Ustinov convened a meeting at NPO Energiya, where it was agreed to speed up the release of a government and party decree on such a system, seen as the official endorsement of the program and the go-ahead to actually design and build the hardware [22]. In a letter dated 21 December 1975, KGB chief Yuriy Andropov once again reminded Ustinov of the Space Shuttle’s military capabilities, emphasizing that its 30-ton payload capacity allowed it to orbit big spy satellites and space-to – ground weapons [23]. Roald Sagdeyev confirms Ustinov’s role in the final decision to build a Space Shuttle equivalent:

“I heard that [Buran] was adopted mainly due to insistence from Ustinov, who had made the following argument: if our scientists and engineers do not see any specific use of this technology now, we should not forget that the Americans are very pragmatic and very smart. Since they have invested a tremendous amount of money in such a project, they can obviously see some useful scenarios that are still unseen from Soviet eyes. The Soviet Union should develop such a technol­ogy, so that it won’t be taken by surprise in the future’’ [24].

The unavoidable impression one gets when comparing drawings and pictures of the Space Shuttle and Energiya-Buran is that the Soviet vehicle is in many ways a copy of the American one. There were of course basic differences with the Space Shuttle, the most notable ones being the use of liquid vs. solid-fuel boosters, the placement of the cryogenic engines on the external tank rather than the orbiter, the use of cryogenic rather than hypergolic propellants for the orbiter’s orbital maneuvering and reaction control systems and Buran’s higher degree of automation.

However, there is no denying the fact that other differences between the two systems were in details rather than in fundamental design. The similarities far out­numbered the differences. The tank section of the core stage was a virtual carbon copy of the Shuttle’s External Tank and the orbiter was almost identical in layout, dimensions, and shape to its US counterpart. The similar dimensions were a logical result of the requirement to match the payload capacity of the Space Shuttle. As for the strikingly similar shape, when asked about this, Soviet officials usually responded along the lines that the laws of aerodynamics left little room for other designs. However, the dozens of orbiter outlines studied by NASA in the late 1960s and early 1970s and by the Russians themselves disprove this claim. In the end, Buran’s shape was largely determined by the very same Defense Department requirements that

had forced NASA into the design for its Space Shuttle Orbiter (high cross-range capability and ability to transport large payloads). As one veteran admits:

“The deciding factor was not aerodynamics. We were in a position of having to play catch-up [with the Americans] … This is where the, unfortunately, classical opinion in our defense industry surfaced: the Americans aren’t dumber, do it the way they do!’’ [72].

Indeed, Buran was not the only example of following Western designs. Similar examples can be found in other branches of the Soviet industry as well, particularly in aviation. Among the more striking ones were the Tu-4 bomber, a clone of the B-29, and the Tu-144 “Konkordski”, the Soviet equivalent of Concorde. In some instances this was simply the fastest and most practical way of achieving parity, with the Russians apparently being not all too concerned about losing face in the process.

It should be pointed out though that Buran was the only obvious case of copying in the Soviet space program. While several Soviet manned and unmanned space projects were a response to American programs and intended to match their cap­abilities, the Russians usually came up with their own design solutions (e. g., Spiral vs. Dyna Soar and Almaz vs. the Manned Orbiting Laboratory). In the N-1/L-3 manned lunar-landing project, a program comparable in scale with Energiya-Buran, the Russians adopted the same Lunar Orbit Rendezvous technique as the Americans, but built a rocket that was fundamentally different from the Saturn V. Perhaps the negative experience with that project was one of the reasons that led them to more closely mimic the US design when the next program of comparable proportions came along. If things went wrong again, managers and designers would at least not be held accountable for “having done it differently than the Americans”.

More fundamentally though, this time around the Russians were not sure what the ultimate objectives of the American program where. Whereas the goal of Apollo unequivocally had been to put a man on the Moon, the motives behind the devel­opment of the Space Shuttle were much more nebulous from the Russian perspective. Fearing the military capabilities of the Shuttle, they felt it necessary to build an equivalent system, but, unsure of what exactly the threat was, they had little choice but to stick closely to the American design to make sure they would be able to respond to whatever strategic missions the Shuttle would eventually perform. Buran was built not out of some fundamental need in the Soviet space program, but as an answer to potential military and other applications of the Space Shuttle. This would eventually become the root cause of its downfall in the early 1990s.

By copying many aspects of the Space Shuttle design, the Russians could take advantage of the American experience, saving them a lot of research and develop­ment time. Although there is little evidence to support this, there can be little doubt that in designing their vehicle the Russians made use of the literature openly available on the Space Shuttle Orbiter. By the time the Energiya-Buran project got underway in 1976, the Shuttle’s design had been frozen for nearly two years and the first Orbiters were under construction. On the other hand, there is probably nothing fundamental that the Russians changed in their design based on actual US flight experience, because by the time Columbia flew STS-1 in April 1981 Buran’s own design had been finalized.

Still, the copying that irrefutably took place should not be used as an argument to belittle the Soviet accomplishment. No matter how much the Russians relied on Shuttle literature and blueprints, they still needed to develop the technology, the materials, and the infrastructure and do the testing all by themselves. Considering their overall less mature state of technology and the country’s smaller economic

potential, this was a remarkable feat, irrespective of whether the expenditures were justified or not.

For ascent and return the mid-deck could have seats installed for up to six crew members. In orbit it served as the living and sleeping quarters for the crew, containing (among other things) lockers for stowage, sleeping bags, a galley with a small reclining table, washing facilities, and a toilet. In the aft of the mid-deck there was room for an internal airlock to conduct spacewalks during non-docking missions. For docking missions Buran would have carried a combined docking system/airlock installed in the cargo bay just behind the crew compartment.

The mid-deck also housed three small equipment bays with radio equipment and thermal control systems that could be accessed by the crew via panels. There was a

hatch on the port side of the mid-deck for normal crew ingress and egress, which could be opened very quickly by the crew in emergency situations. As on the Orbiter, there was a small porthole in the middle of the side hatch. Access to the flight deck was via two interdeck openings (left and right), although only the left one was supposed to be used in flight. The mid-deck had its own instrument panel (17M212) with among other things an on-board clock and an emergency warning system. There were also separate instrument panels for the airlock (17M213) and the docking adapter (17M214).

This was the prime navigation aid for final approach and landing, providing azimuth and elevation data from an altitude of about 7 km. The RMS was a standard all­weather scanning-beam microwave landing system (MLS) similar to those adopted for civil aircraft in the early 1980s by the International Civil Aviation Organization. In microwave landing systems antennas located on the ground transmit a reciprocat­ing beam to an aircraft, while the aircraft measures the interval between a pair of received beams and thereby determines the azimuth and elevation angle. Buran was equipped with three RMS sets (17M901) each containing a transmitter/receiver and a decoder (34.5 kg). The ground-based component incorporated an azimuth and elevation antenna on either side of the runway, providing azimuth coverage of about 30 degrees from the runway centerline and vertical guidance up to 30 degrees. The antennas had a much greater range (at least 25 km) than traditional aviation micro­wave landing systems.

The RMS was very similar to the Space Shuttle’s Microwave Scan Beam Landing System (MSBLS). VNIIRA (the All-Union Scientific Research Institute of Radio Equipment), the Leningrad institute that built the system, was criticized by some for not using an advanced aviation microwave landing system called Platsdarm. This was under development at the institute by the end of the 1970s and featured phased-array

antennas with electronic scanning rather than dish antennas with mechanical scanning as in the RMS. Some felt that the simultaneous work on the Buran system and Platsdarm was a wasteful duplication of effort.

The main military organization involved in the Energiya-Buran program was GUKOS (Chief Directorate of Space Assets), which during the early years of the program was subordinate to the Strategic Rocket Forces (RVSN). RVSN had been set up as an independent branch of the armed forces in December 1959 to run the burgeoning strategic missile program, a task earlier performed by the Chief Artillery Directorate (GAU) under the Ministry of Defense. All this was in contrast to the situation in the United States, where missiles were the responsibility of the Air Force. RVSN also inherited the space-related functions of the GAU—namely, pre-launch processing, launch, tracking, and control of both civilian and military satellites. In 1964 RVSN further consolidated its control over space operations with the creation of TsUKOS (Central Directorate of Space Assets), a body that was directly subordinate to the RVSN Commander-in-Chief. In March 1970 TsUKOS was re­organized as GUKOS, which in turn separated from RVSN in November 1981 to become directly subordinate to Defense Minister Ustinov. In November 1986 it was reorganized as a separate branch of the armed forces under the name UNKS (Directorate of the Commander of Space Forces).

In August 1992, after the disintegration of the Soviet Union, it became known as VKS (Military Space Forces). In November 1997 VKS was reabsorbed by the Strategic Rocket Forces, only to be given back its independent status in June 2001 under the name KV (Space Troops).

GUKOS was appointed as the so-called “client” for the Energiya-Buran pro­gram on 30 July 1976. This meant that, formally at least, it was responsible for determining the specifications for the system. In this respect, it essentially assumed the same position as NASA in the United States, with the design bureaus and factories playing the role of “contractors”. In principle, however, most of the initiatives to develop new spacecraft or work out specifications came from the design bureaus themselves in a bottom-up management style characteristic of the Soviet space program. The relationship between “client” and “contractor” in the Soviet context was also different in that GUKOS did not directly control the purse strings of the Energiya-Buran program. Like most other space projects, the program had to be run with the annual funds allocated to the ministries of the military industrial complex from the state budget, which was a way of covering up actual defense expenditures. Aside from fulfilling its “client” function, GUKOS/UNKS was in charge of operating the launch facilities at the Baykonur cosmodrome and tracking stations across the Soviet Union.

GUKOS/UNKS commanders during the Buran years were Andrey G. Karas (1965-1979), Aleksandr A. Maksimov (1979-1989), and Vladimir L. Ivanov (1989­1996). Several bodies and posts were set up within GUKOS that were specifically related to the Energiya-Buran program. In December 1979 a special coordinating group overseeing work on the program was set up under the leadership of former cosmonaut Gherman Titov, a deputy head of GUKOS at the time. In 1984 Yevgeniy I. Panchenko was named deputy head of GUKOS specifically in charge of Energiya – Buran and “automated control systems”. In 1986 a new 4th Directorate in charge of Buran and “special space assets” was established under the leadership of Nikolay E. Dmitriyev. Military R&D work on the Energiya-Buran program was conducted by the Strategic Rocket Forces’ TsNII-50 research institute, which became directly subordinate to GUKOS in 1982. It was headed by Gennadiy P. Melnikov (1972­1983), Ivan V. Meshcheryakov (1983-1988), and Eduard V. Alekseyev (1988-1992).

Despite repeated attempts by the Air Force to loosen the Strategic Rocket Forces’ stranglehold on the space program, its space-related responsibilities remained largely limited to cosmonaut training. For the Buran project the Air Force trained its own team of test pilots based at the Chkalov State Red Banner Scientific Test Institute (GKNII) in Akhtubinsk.

Known as Raskat (“peal of thunder”) or 11P825, the Energiya-Buran launch complex consisted of two adjacent pads: pad 37, the “left” pad as seen from the Energiya-Buran Technical Zone, and pad 38, the “right” pad. The pads were situated some 5 km from the Technical Zone. Separated by only a few dozen meters, they were

built on the same site where the two N-1 pads had been built in the 1960s. This decision had not been taken lightly. Many argued the Energiya-Buran pads should be built farther from the Technical Zone, because the cataclysmic on-the-pad explosion of the second N-1 rocket in July 1969 had actually caused damage to the N-1 assembly building. Furthermore, the Energiya-Buran pads required totally new systems such as hydrogen storage tanks and crew emergency escape systems. Although building the pads on the old N-1 complex was not necessarily cheaper or simpler than other options, Vladimir P. Barmin, the head of launch pad design bureau KBOM (Design Bureau of General Machine Building), insisted on maintain­ing at least some of the colossal work invested in the lunar program.

The N-1 pads consisted of three 23 m deep flame trenches, five-story under­ground support facilities and a 145 m high rotating service structure. While the underground support facilities had to be almost completely rebuilt, the flame trenches remained largely unchanged, although a new flame deflection system had to be built to make their three-directional design compatible with Energiya’s asymmetrically configured propulsion system. Engineers designed a new 1,200-ton heavy launch table compatible with the Blok-Ya mating unit on which Energiya-Buran was mounted.

The N-1’s 145 m high rotating service structure remained in place on both pads. Newly installed on the structure were several sets of support arms that embraced the stack for final launch preparations. A lower set interfaced with Buran’s mid fuselage and was therefore probably mainly used for fuel cell servicing. Two higher sets of support arms provided electric and other interfaces with the rocket and were used to inspect the rocket’s thermal insulation layers.

At some point the rotating service towers on both pads were shortened to about 60 m. This was reportedly done to minimize the chance of the rocket’s flames impinging on the tower after lift-off, even though it was at a relatively safe distance in parked position. Since Buran faced the rotating service tower while it sat on the pad, the move may also have been related to the possible use of Buran’s ejection seats in the event of an on-the-pad emergency. Although the ejection seats would have lifted the pilots well over the tower (to an altitude of about 500 m), the shortening may have provided an extra margin of safety. At the time of Buran’s launch in November 1988, the rotating service structure of pad 37 still had its original height, while that of the (unused) pad 38 had already been shortened.

Flanking the Energiya-Buran stack on either side were two newly erected 64 m high fixed service structures. One of these contained the propellant lines for tanking or detanking of the core stage and strap-on boosters. There were at least three arms connecting it to the rocket. One of the arms was retracted from the rocket only at lift-off to ensure that no hydrogen escaped into the surrounding air, forming a potentially explosive mixture.

The other fixed tower had two arms. One was an arm connected to Energiya’s intertank section that contained instruments necessary to correct the rocket’s azimuthal orientation gyroscopes. It was retracted with less than a minute left in the countdown. The other was an access arm linking the tower with Buran’s crew compartment. Running from the access arm were two pipes leading to two separate

underground rooms. To board the orbiter, the crew or launch pad personnel rode on special trolleys inside the top pipe. The trolleys could accommodate about a dozen people. The lower pipe was a giant escape chute to be used by the crew or personnel in the event of an emergency, with a special mattress in the underground room softening their landing. Once there, they would have hermetically sealed themselves in an adjacent blast room where they should have been safe from explosions, leaks, and the like. A special test stand imitating the chute was built in 1986 at the Scientific Research Institute of Chemical and Building Machines (NIIKhSM) in Zagorsk, north of Moscow. The chute at the pad was tested numerous times by engineers. It was reportedly also a favorite playground for off-duty soldiers in the evening hours, as evidenced by the numerous boot imprints on the mattresses.

Soviet engineers may have been inspired by an escape system used at Kennedy Space Center’s Launch Complex 39 during the Apollo years. This would have seen crews riding high-speed elevators to Level A of the mobile launch platform, where they would have jumped into a slide tube that would carry them under the launch pad. The slide terminated in a padded “rubber room’’ which was connected by a massive steel door to a blast room, which could withstand an on-the-pad explosion of
the Saturn V launch vehicle. After the Apollo program the slide tube was capped off, although the rooms remain deep down under the pad, serving as “time capsules” of the Apollo program. For the Shuttle program, slide-wire baskets were installed on the fixed service structure at the level of the Orbiter access arm, taking crews down to seek shelter in a nearby bunker or escape from the pad in a small armored vehicle.

Surrounding the pads were four large floodlight towers and two 225 m high lightning protection towers that also supported floodlights. Rust-colored reservoirs containing sound suppression water were located on either side of the fixed towers. During launch huge pipes channeled the water to spray nozzles that sent thousands of liters of water onto the pad during launch.

Just as for their other launch vehicles, the Soviets had a policy of limited pad time for Energiya-Buran, dictated at least partially by the harsh climatic conditions at the cosmodrome, especially during winter. With most hazardous operations and close­out activities performed inside the MZK, the vehicle was in a high state of readiness when it arrived on the pad. Buran was rolled out from the MZK to the pad just 19 days before its first launch attempt on 29 October 1988.

The main hazardous operations remaining to be completed on the pad were the loading of cryogenic propellants into Buran’s fuel cells and the ODU propulsion system, and tanking of the core stage and strap-on boosters. A so-called “cryogenic center’’ serving both pads was built to the north of the launch complex and had huge spherical storage tanks containing liquid oxygen and hydrogen as well as gaseous nitrogen and helium. Fueling of the Energiya rocket was completely automated, with nobody allowed within a 5 km radius of the pad. Unlike the Shuttle pads at the Kennedy Space Center, the Buran pads had no provisions for loading payloads into the cargo bay.

The pad used for the one and only Buran launch on 15 November 1988 was nr. 37. Pad 38, although apparently finished, never hosted an Energiya-Buran stack. It can be distinguished from the used pad by white markings on the fixed and rotating service structures [14].