Category China in Space

This chapter looks at how the current space program was constructed – its organization, institutes, architecture, infrastructure, ground facilities, cosmodromes, rockets, and rocket engines – starting with the people who made it all possible: the designers and their institutes.

DESIGNERS, BUREAUS, AND ARCHITECTURE

The leader of the Chinese space program was, as we have seen, in its early years Tsien Hsue Shen. The Chinese program followed a model of development that had similarities to the Soviet one, based on the concept of design institutes and chief designers (glavnykonstruktor, in Russian). Whether the system was consciously imitative or arose from a common political inspiration is not known. Either way, in the Chinese system, a number of chief designers emerged, as did various institutes and design bureaus, though there was a much more remote connection between designers and individual bureaus. As was the case in the Soviet Union (1946), an original group of chief designers was formed in China (1956), with key scientists assigned to projects and specialisms (e. g. engines, computers, radio systems, propellants). To the present, individual chief designers are associated with key projects, such as Qi Faren (Shenzhou). The original designers have since retired, although, in keeping with the Chinese tradition of longevity, many have lived and still live to old age and retain a lively interest in their former occupation. While Tsien Hsue Shen will always remain the great designer, in recent years, China has come to recognize other designers and scientists who have made big contributions to the Chinese space program; 2009, for example, saw the presentation of state awards to mathematician Gu Chaohao, who calculated the trajectories for the early space missions and Zhukovsky graduate spacecraft designer Sun Jiadong.

A second imitative feature of the Chinese space program was that it was carried out by sonorous-sounding institutes that concealed their true identity (the Soviet program was directed by the “ministry of medium machine-building”). There was no equivalent of NASA in the early years: the space program was run by the Fifth Academy from 1956 and by the Seventh Ministry from 1964. The Fifth Academy

B. Harvey, China in Space: The Great Leap Forward, Springer Praxis Books,

DOI 10.1007/978-l-4614-5043-6_3, © Springer Science+Business Media New York 2013 was formed by the drafting in of approximately 1,000 engineers and military officers, most of whom knew nothing about spaceflight but who quickly made up for it by hard study, but now the space program can call on skilled scientists and administrators from the universities. Not until 10th June 1993, when the Chinese National Space Administration (CNSA) was formed, did the Chinese space program have a visible governmental face. Organizationally, it was part of the structure of the State Commission for Science, Technology and the National Defence (COSTIND).

The body responsible for space policy and oversight body is the Space Leading Group of the State Council (formed in its current shape in 1991), which comprises senior governmental officials (the prime minister; the chairman of COSTIND; the vice-chairman of the State Committee for Science and Technology; the minister of the aerospace industry; the vice-minister of foreign affairs; and the vice-chairman of the state committee for central planning) which reports to the president. The CNSA reports to the Space Leading Group, as does the Central Military Commission, which manages the cosmodromes and tracking system, and the Human Spaceflight Office, which oversees the manned program [1].

Underneath the CNSA are the institutes or academies, so-called because they operate under the China Academy of Sciences. As is the case in the Soviet Union and parts of Europe, most scientific and engineering development takes place in scientific institutes, rather than in universities, as is the case in Britain and the United States. These are the main academies:

1. Chinese Academy of Launch Technology (CALT), in Nan Yuan, Beijing;

2. Chinese Academy of Mechanical and Electrical Engineering (CCF), in Beijing;

3. Chinese Electro-mechanic Academy (CHETA), in Haiying;

4. Chinese Academy for Solid Rocket Motors (ARMT), in Xian;

5. Chinese Academy of Space Technology (CAST), in Beijing;

8. Shanghai Academy for Spaceflight Technology (SAST), in Shanghai;

9. Chinese Academy for Space Electronics Technology (CASET), in Beijing;

10. Chinese Academy of Aerospace Navigation Technology;

11. Academy of Aerospace Liquid Propulsion Technology (AALPT).

The most eminent are CALT, CAST, and SAST. The Chinese Academy of Launcher Technology (CALT), originally called the Beijing Wan Yuan Industry Corporation (1957), is located in Nan Yuan, 50 km south of Beijing, and was once, like equivalent Soviet facilities, secret and closed to visitors. It has responsibility for the design, construction, completion, and delivery of the Long March launchers and has six factories in Beijing and Shanghai. CALT has its own railway termini: rockets are assembled horizontally then transported by rail to the appropriate launch site. CALT is also responsible for testing materials, parts, and components, and has its own static halls, vibration test towers, and engine test stands.

The China Academy of Space Technology (CAST) (1968) is the primary body that designs and manufactures scientific and applications satellites. Its core is the Beijing Satellite Manufacturing Plant in Beijing, formerly the Science Instruments Plant of the Chinese Academy of Sciences. Like the old Soviet facilities, there are gleaming interiors inside a shell of unattractive exteriors and the plant includes a museum of backup and unflown satellites. New spacecraft integration hangars, test facilities, and laboratories were built in the 1990s on a fresh 100-ha site in Tangjialing, north-west Beijing. A 7,000-m2 lunar section was opened in late 2009. The total CAST workforce was given in 2003 as 110,000 of which 41,000 were of technical grade [2]. CAST has a substantial infrastructure, the main elements of which are:

• Beijing Centre for Space Technology Development and Testing, with integration hall, electro-magnetic compatibility laboratory, mechanical environmental laboratory, KM6 space environment simulation laboratory, mass properties test laboratory, compact radio test field, acoustic laboratory, and electron welding systems;

• National Centre of Engineering Research for Small Satellites and Applica­tions, sub-divided into design, test, and integration centers;

• Dong Fang Hong Satellite Co.;

• Integrated Centre for Recovery and Landing Research;

• Centre for Optical Remote Sensing Engineering;

• Centre of Specialized Technologies;

• Centre for Control and Propulsion Systems Design;

• Satellite Manufacturing Factory;

• Institute of Space Scientific and Technological Information;

• Institute of Space Machinery and Electricity;

• Beijing Institute of Control Engineering;

• Beijing Institute of Metrology and Test Technology; and

• Beijing Institute of Satellite Information Engineering.

As was the case with the Soviet design bureaus, it has branches outside Beijing such as:

• Xian Industrial Park, for the development of communications systems, microwave payloads, and applications, including Xian Institute of Radio Technology (XIRT);

• Tianjin Industrial Base;

• Yantai Industrial Base for the development of satellite electronics;

• Lanzhou Industrial Base, for the development of cryogenics and tanking;

• Lanzhou Institute of Space Technical Physics;

• Shantou Institute of Electronic Technology;

• Shanxi Institute of Space Mechanical and Electrical Equipment; and

• Shandong Institute of Space Electronic Technology.

To complicate the story, institutes have been renamed and transferred from one academy to another. XIRT, for example, which played a lead role in satellite electronics, was an independent academy when formed in 1956, but was transferred to CAST in 1968.

After CAST, the largest bureau is the Shanghai Academy of Space Technology (SAST), sometimes loosely referred to as “the Shanghai bureau”, set up 1961 by

Mao Zedong in Minhang, Shanghai, China’s leading industrial base, where an old tobacco hall was requisitioned. It was assigned major projects from the 1970s, such as the Feng Bao launcher and, since then, key tasks of the space program such as the Long March 2D and 4 rockets and important parts of Shenzhou (e. g. propulsion module, electrical systems, command and communications, and the main engine) and there is a full-scale mockup of Shenzhou on display there. Rockets are not the only product of the SAST, which has 10 commercial companies and has branched out into defense equipment, cars, office equipment, machinery, electrical products, and even property management. There was a substantial, 80-ha expansion of its Minhang facility (also called Minxing) from 2005 as a “Space Industrial Park”, with a large part dedicated to the manned spaceflight program. Also located in Shanghai is the Shanghai Institute for Satellite Engineering (Hauyin), which first built the Ji Shu Shiyan Weixing (JSSW) series of satellites (Chapter 2) and then the Feng Yun weather satellites (Chapter 6), and is well endowed with high-quality technical facilities such as vacuum chambers and a centrifuge. Also located there are the State Meteorology Administration and the Shanghai Institute for Technical Physics (established in 1958).

Dealing with the other academies, ARMT (1962) in Xian makes solid-rocket motors, kick stages, apogee engines, retrorockets for the Fanhui Shi Weixing (FSW) recoverable cabins and other small rockets, and the escape tower for Shenzhou. The tenth academy, the Chinese Academy of Aerospace Navigation Technology (2001), was formed to bring together a dispersed and uncoordinated range of small companies and institutes involved in the design and production of inertial instruments, optoelectronic products, electrical and electronic components, precision instruments, and computer hardware and software in navigation and guidance systems.

Liquid-fuel rocket engines were originally made in what was originally called the “067 base” in Mount Qinling in Shaanxi (though 1970 is given as its date of formation). Broadly speaking, its role corresponded to that of the Gas Dynamics Laboratory, now Energomash in the Russian space program. The company diversified in recent years in this case into such areas as fire-fighting, environmental protection, electronics, machinery, and electronics. A subsidiary, the Shaanxi Space Dynamics High Technology Co., was set up to apply rocket engine technology across a broad range of economic sectors. The various liquid-propulsion laboratories, 067 base, the Beijing Aerospace Propulsion Institute, the Beijing Institute of Aerospace Testing Technology, and the Shanghai Institute of Space Propulsion were brought into a new academy in 2009 in Xian: the Academy of Aerospace Liquid Propulsion Technology (AALPT), with 11,400 staff.

These are the main academies. In addition, there are many smaller institutes and centers, most of which operate under the broad aegis of the China Academy of Sciences, some emerging only in recent years. Examples are:

• Centre for Earth Observation (CEODE);

• National Astronomical Observatories;

• National Satellite Meteorology Centre;

• China Resources Satellite Application Centre (CRESDA, 1991);

• Satellite Oceanic Application Centre;

• National Space Science Centre (NSSC); and

• Lanzhou Space Research Institute.

One of the newest (2011) is the National Space Science Centre (NSSC), to take responsibility for planning space science, appointing Ji Wu as its first director – a move designed to both prioritize space science and bring coherent planning to the field. The NSSC took over the former Centre for Space Science and Applied Research (CSSR), in turn constituted from Zhao Jiuzhang’s Institute of Applied Geophysics (1958) which later became the Institute of Space Physics, with the Centre for Space Science and Technology (1978), and it has 507 staff. It has responsibility for research, design, assembly, coordination, and scientific support, and includes post-doctoral students. CSSR holds the China Space Science Data Centre and is the home of the China committee of COSPAR. It is responsible for Miyun ground receiving station, Hainan ionospheric observatory, the Beijing Cosmic Ray Observatory, the Beijing super neutron monitor, the sounding rocket base in Hainan, and the space plasma environment test laboratory. In 2011, it was allocated a budget of ¥300m (€38m), but with a view to this growing to ¥700m. Its staff complement was set at 450, including 50 scientists.

In advance of manned spaceflight, an Institute for Aviation & Space Medicine (many variations of this name appear) was established in Beijing (1968), led by China’s great expert in aviation and space medicine, Cai Qiao (1897-1990). From Jieyang in Gungdong, he studied psychology and then medicine in California and Chicago, subsequently in London and Frankfurt, returning to China after the revolution, becoming the author of six major books and over 100 papers, his main text being the ABC of Aviation Medicine. The institute became responsible for the development of spacesuits, underwater tanks to test space walking, and centrifuges to prepare astronauts for high gravitational forces on ascent and descent. The Institute for Aviation and Space Medicine built a 12-m, computer-controlled centrifuge able to reach a maximum acceleration of 25 G, while the Shanghai Research Institute of Satellite Engineering built a 15-m-long centrifuge, the biggest in Asia, which can achieve 17 G. Adjacent facilities work on water recycling, closed Ufe-support systems, growing food in space, and bed-rest research.

As was the case in Russia, production may be carried out in-house or contracted to specialized external production institutes or factories (e. g. Tung Fang Scientific Instrument Plant), but China also had an intermediate organizational type: the in­house specialized company, an example being the Dong Fang Hong Satellite Co., a medium-sized company of 450 staff, part of CAST. Shanghai had a concentration of production facilities, such as the Shanghai Electronic Equipment Factory (electro­nics); Xinyue Mechanical Electronics Plant (gimbaling systems and precision instruments); and the Scientific Instrument Factory (sensors).

In 2009, there was reorganization around industrial parks, bringing together a diverse range of companies derived from the different institutes. The main parks developed were in Shenzhen, Xian, Shanghai, Tianjin, and Hainan. Several CAST

facilities were consolidated in Xian, such as the AALPT, the Institute of Space Physics, and the North West Institute for Electronics. The main anchor companies in Shenzhen Park were Shenzhen Aerospace Spacesat Company and Shenzhen Aerospace Science & Technology, starting with a ¥160m (€20m) facility of 250,000 m2.

The principal communications satellite companies are Asiasat, Sinosat, and Chinasatcom, which includes APT (Asia Pacific Telecommunications Co.) Satellite of Hong Kong (Apstar), the last two being subsidiaries of CAST (they are described in detail in Chapter 5). The main computer companies are Beijing Shenzhou Aerospace Software Co., China Aerospace Times Electronics Corp., China Spacesat Co., and China Aerospace Engineering Consultation Centre.

Traditionally, satellites were constructed in-house or in subsidiary companies, but they were joined by university-based companies in the 1990s. Tsinghua Satellite Technology Company specialized in micro-satellites and space imaging. Sounding like a typical Western university-commercial company, it was a joint enterprise of China Space Machinery and Electrical Equipment Group, Tsinghua University Enterprise Group, and Tsinghua Tongfang Co. Located in Zhongguancun Science & Technology Park, Tsinghua Satellite Technology Company quickly found a Western partner to work with – the university-based Surrey Satellite Technologies Limited (SSTL), which operates on a broadly similar basis. Its aim is to develop China’s autonomous micro-satellite research capability in a short period of time and build high-performance, low-cost space applications satellites, especially in such areas as weather observations, disaster prevention, environmental monitoring, and carto­graphy.

On top of these, the China Aerospace Corporation (CASC) (1989) has overall authority for the main industrial groups concerned with spaceflight, notably the Great Wall Industry Corporation (1984), its promotional agency at home and abroad. The Great Wall is a multi-product promotional agency, its current portfolio including, as well as space rockets, bicycles, beer, safes, home-made ice-cream machines, and electric fans. It leads the drive to promote Chinese launchers and other space products, at one stage having offices in California, Washington, DC, and Munich, Germany.

Two universities are now dedicated to spaceflight – the only country in the world with such a distinction, both called universities of aeronautics and astronautics: Nanjing and Beijing. The latter has 23,000 students and is one of the main research centers for both theory and the practical development of new projects (e. g. it has an altitude chamber in which spacesuits are tested). Prospective astronauts study there. For amateurs, there is the Chinese Society of Astronautics (CSA), which attempts to bring together engineers, scientists, amateurs, and enthusiasts for spaceflight. It is the body affiliated to the International Astronautical Federation, although, in the best traditions of science and politics, there is a rival Chinese Society of Aeronautics and Astronautics. In 1992, China joined the international committee on space research, COSPAR, originally set up after the International Geophysical Year to bring together the scientists of the USSR, United States, and Europe in the post­Sputnik period. China has a national committee for COSPAR, which furnishes triennial reports on its space science activities to COSPAR headquarters in Paris.

The Chinese space program now has an extensive infrastructure, comprising three launch centers and a fourth in construction, with ground facihties for manufacturing and testing; a worldwide land, sea, and space-based tracking system; a fleet of operational medium-lift launchers, about to be replaced by a new generation of light to heavy rockets; and a well-established institutional architecture. Its rockets have achieved high records of reliability. Recent promotional brochures of the program illustrate the gleaming, new, soaring buildings of light steel and glass, the new institutes and facilities conveying freshness, modernization, and a sense of purpose. The contrast with the old Chinese space program could not be greater. When the 067 base was set up, now the new Academy of Liquid Propulsion Technology, security imperatives were such that it must be located far inland in mountains. The country’s best rocket engine engineers were assigned to live in a bamboo village indistinguishable from any other and cooked by all accounts meager meals using locally collected firewood, foraging further afield for rice, meat, and cooking oil.

REFERENCES

[1] The current organization is described in Sourbes-Verger, I. Du reve a la realite. Presentation, Conference 3AF, 29 September 2009.

[2] Bai, Jingwu; Li, Feng. Footprints of China’s Launch Vehicles and Their Further Evolution. Presentation to 54th IAC, Bremen, 2003; United States Congress. Report of the US China Economic and Security Review Commission. US Government Printing Office, Washington, DC (2011).

[3] Guo Huadong; Ma Jianwen. Earth Observation Technologies for Sustainable Development. China Journal of Space Science, 30 (5) (2010).

[4] Grahn, S. JLC Town: An Interpretation of the Space Image. Available online at www. svengrahn. pp. se; Grahn, S. Jiuquan. Presentation to the British Interplane­tary Society, June 2006.

[5] Oberg, J. China’s Space Effort Undergoing a Sea Change: Beijing Makes Plans for

New Rockets, Island Spaceport, Barge Transport. Posting on www. jamesoberg. com.

[6] Chen, Shu-Peng. Remote Sensing and Its Application. In: Hu, Wen-Rui (ed.), Space Science in China. Gordon & Breach, Amsteldijk (1997).

[7] Borrowman, G. The Chinese/Soviet Contribution to the North Korean Launch Capability. Paper presented at the British Interplanetary Society, 7 June 2008.

The battle over ITAR played to a polarized world, but international communica­tions and the companies operating them lived in a world in which international boundaries became ever more blurred. The ownership of Chinese communications companies was complicated, some having been started in Hong Kong before the handover, others having substantial Western investment and being publicly traded. Although most flew Chinese satellites on Chinese rockets, not all did and some flew Western satellites on Chinese launchers and sometimes did not even use Chinese rockets.

The three main companies were Asiasat, Sinosat, and Chinasatcom (which includes Apstar). Asiasat was formed in 1988 in Hong Kong when it was a British colony and was a China-Hong Kong-British company. As its title suggests, it aims to provide communications for the Asian region. Although its first satellite, Asiasat 1, was launched on the Long March, it later turned to Russian and Western suppliers. Asiasat 3S launched on a Russian Proton on 21st March 1999, followed by Asiasat 4, a Hughes 601 on an American Atlas IIIB on 11th April 2003, and Asiasat 5, a Loral 1300 on a Russian Proton on 12th August 2009. Asiasat 7, also a Loral 1300, flew on a Russian Proton on 26th November 2011. Carrying 28 C-band and 17 Ku-band transponders for Asia and the Middle East, it reached 105.5°E, where it replaced Asiasat 3S. In 2012, Asiasat ordered Asiasat 6, 8, and 9, more Loral 1300s, choosing the Proton, but with reports of an approach to the American SpaceX for its new commercial Falcon 9 rocket.

Sinosat is China’s main domestic operator, established in 1994 in Beijing, with German funding. It has its own ground control center in northern Beijing. Its first launch was Sinosat 1 in July 1998 (Chinese series name Xinnuo), its main function being TV, radio, and distance learning to the villages from 110.5°E, where it operated successfully until being moved off station in April 2012. Despite its name, Sinosat 1 was a Western Spacebus 3000 and flew before the Cox regime had set in. Since then, Sinosat turned to domestic satellites, Sinosat 2 being the first Dong Fang Hong 4 series, Sinosat 3 being one of the older DFH-3s, while DFH-4 orders have been placed for Sinosat 4, 5, 6, and 7.

Chinasatcom (Chinasat for short) is part of the China Aerospace Corporation (CASC) and is effectively a government company conglomerate. Chinasat took over APT (brand name Apstar) and subsequently Sinosat, a subsidiary with its own brand, and, in 2007, all were brought together under a holding company called the Orient Telecommunications Satellite Co. Ltd. Chinasat is a big communications supplier: it had 260 TV and 230 radio channels, as well as four Earth stations: Beijing, Shahe, Tai Po (Hong Kong New Territories), and Dujiangyan in Chengdu.

Its direct broadcast satellites have been given the brand of ChinaDBSat, although, thankfully, a separate designator is not used for them. It has four satelhtes on order: Chinasat 9A (92.2°E), Chinasat 11 (2013), Chinasat 13 (2014), and a backup for Thales-built Apstar 7, which was launched to 76.5°E in March 2012 (Apstar 7B). China’s commercial satellite launches are summarized in Table 5.5.

Despite this demonstrated ability to fly a scientific mission, there was a gap in the series of almost 13 years (Shi Jian 3 was a canceled Earth resources satellite). Shi Jian 4 was flown on the first flight of the Long March ЗА launcher on 8th February 1994 and was the second satellite to benefit from project 863. Shi Jian 4 was a 410-kg drum, 1.6 m in diameter, 2.18 m high, with 11,000 2 x 2-cm solar cells. Its primary purpose was to study the spatial and spectral distribution of the Earth’s charged particle environment, but an important objective was to test its damaging effect on spacecraft instrumentation. There were six scientific instruments of 20 kg, as shown in Table 7.2.

Table 7.2. Shi Jian 4 instruments.

Semi-conductor high-energetic electrons detector

Semi-conductor high-energetic proton and heavy-ion detector

Electrostatic analyzer

Electric potential meter

Static single events upset monitor

The Long March also carried into orbit an unspecified 1,600-kg payload called Kuafu, probably a technology demonstrator (in Chinese mythology, Kuafu chased the Sun), this name being revived recently for a new mission. Shi Jian 4 entered an orbit of 209-36,118 km, 28.5°, period 10.7 hr, calculated to bring it through the charged particles of the Van Allen radiation belts four times a day. Shi Jian 4 was designed to last for six months, before succumbing to the intense radiation of the belts. There were a number of problems with the mission: the power supply gave only 2 V instead of the 5 V for which it was designed and some of the instruments malfunctioned, but it lasted more than the half-year planned.

Shi Jian 4 made the first Chinese wide-range distribution of electrons, ions, and high-energy particles in the 0.1-40-keV range, followed solar particle radiation that did not enter the Earth’s magnetic field, measured the density of high-temperature plasma, detected high-energy charged particles in the radiation belts, and made a cross-section of the radiation belt. A map was made of proton fluxes and trapped electron fluxes and measured against altitude. Chinese scientists found that the in – and-out flow of the field-aligned current was very complex and hard to distinguish.

Dealing with the damage done by radiation to spacecraft systems, it tested a

Shi Jian 4, an important radiation mission. Courtesy: COSPAR China.

Shi Jian 4: Trapped protons. Courtesy: COSPAR China.

Shi Jian 4: Trapped electrons. Courtesy: COSPAR China.

system to re-start micro-circuits that had been knocked out by radiation. This happened when systems were hit by high-temperature plasmas up to -2,000 V, with 27 such episodes encountered. At 1,000 km out, Shi Jian recorded multiple large negative potential charging events. Shi Jian recorded 120 single-event upsets in the first 25 days, apparently caused by cosmic rays impacting on the inner radiation belt, averaging out at 3.4 a day in the end. At the end of the mission, the old Handbook of the Low Orbit Space Environment was updated, funded by project 863 [1].

Five years later, in May 1999, Shi Jian 5 was launched, riding piggyback with the meteorological satellite, Feng Yun 1-3 (Chapter 6). Weighing 298 kg, it marked the first operational use of the CAST968 bus made by the Shanghai Academy of Space Technology with the China Electronics Technology Corporation. Instead of the drum shape, it was a box measuring 1.1 x 1.2 x 1.04 m with two solar panels. Its orbit was out to 865 km, 102 min. Its purpose was similar: to study the terrestrial magnetosphere and single-upset events that damaged satellites in orbit. Experiments comprised a suite of cosmic ray detection instruments: a semi-conductor proton and heavy ions detector, a static electrical analyzer, an electrical potentiometer, a static single-event monitor, and a dynamic single-event monitor, with eight measuring points. The project was developed with Brazilian cooperation, but its precise nature is uncertain.

Shi Jian 5 was designed for a short lifetime of 90 days – an approach typical of early Soviet satellites – and the end-of-mission announcement came in August. It duly measured single-event upsets and the effect of the dosage of highly charged particles on the spacecraft. Many years later, it was learned that Shi Jian 5 carried China’s first experiments in fluid physics, to test the convection of bubbles in paraffin and the effects of multilayered thermo-capillary convection on crystalline growth and quality, the outcomes transmitted in real time. This was matched by

experiments developed on Mir at the same time (1999) and followed by more on Shenzhou 4 (2002), FSW 3-5 (2005), and six experiments on Shi Jian 8 (2006). It also tested a solid-state recorder and high-speed s-band transmission [2].

Soon after Shenzhou 7, China announced that the next step would be the construction of an orbiting space station (Chapter 1). In the meantime, early progress was made on the expansion of the corps of yuhangyuan, necessary to serve the set of missions planned for the 2010 decade. For the first time, women were included. Selection began in May 2009 with 500, shortlisted to 30 men and 15 women. They were reduced to 15 who went for screening in the astronaut training center in October 2009. On 10th March 2010, the final selection of five men and two women was completed. The age group was 30-35, with an average of 32.5.

The recruitment of the first female astronauts went through a number of evolutions. The first move to include women came when, after the flight of Yang Liwei, Gu Xiulian, head of the women’s federation of China, demanded that a woman now be sent into space. The obvious place to look was among women pilots in the PLA Air Force. Here, China had recruited groups of women pilots ever since 1949, with subsequent intakes in 1957, 1965, 1973, 1981, 1989, and 1997, each being called a “generation” (first, second, third, etc.), with the 1997 intake the seventh generation. Generally, they were taken in at age 17-19 and 328 had been recruited by then. The seventh generation comprised 37 cadets, all born in 1978-80, of whom 21 had become transport pilots. The eighth generation was recruited in 2005: candidates studied for more than two years for an aviation degree and then for more than a year in flying, with 16 graduating from this group in 2009. Some of them were lucky enough to be chosen to participate in the fly-past that October to mark the 60th anniversary of the revolution. All would be in their mid-20s for a possible space mission, the same age as Valentina Terreshkova in 1963, who was 26.

For the third selection of astronauts in 2009, women were invited to compete and the age range was lifted to 35. This was an important decision, because it enabled not just the younger women in the eighth generation to compete, but also the older seventh generation. In effect, a decision seems to have been made to open the competition to women with more flying hours, even if they were in transport planes rather than fighters. In addition, the recruiters did not wish training to be interrupted by pregnancy, so they let it be known that they wanted married women who already had their sole child permitted under the Chinese system and also expressed the need for people who were “psychologically mature” (possibly a coded term for “motherhood”). In the event, the average age of the women candidates was 29.5 years.

Two women were chosen. The five men and two women reported for training on 7th May 2010. The finalists were not announced in the Chinese media, but their names turned up because, of all people, the military issued promotional biographies of all its top women pilots, which, coupled with mentions of new astronauts in the local media, made it possible to identify the new group – a detection exercise carried out by space writer Tony Quine. At the 2010 meeting of the Association of Space Explorers, Chinese officials were confronted with the names of the finalists, which they did not contradict. The parents of the new selections were, in no time, giving interviews to Chinese TV. What finally gave the game away was when, on 7th December 2011, a stamp cover was issued in advance of the forthcoming mission with, on it, Yang Waping and Liu Yang.

But who would be selected? Both had strong credentials. Yang Waping appeared to be firm favorite. She was already known for flying in help after the 2008 Sichuan Earthquake and for having seeded, from aircraft, clouds that might otherwise have rained on the Beijing Olympics. As for Liu Yang, she came from Zhengzhou in Hainan, where she was born in October 1978. She was described as a quiet studious teenager who surprised everyone when she applied to the Air Force aviation college when she turned 18 in 1997. She was away from home for four years and did not return there for any length of time until she graduated in 2001. Two years later, her plane suffered a bird strike. Pigeon blood spattered the windscreen and one of its engines lost power. Taking the precaution of sending out a mayday message, she managed to make an emergency landing – the kind of calmness under pressure that would appeal to astronaut selectors. Next year, in 2004, she married a fellow military officer, they moved to Wuhan, she was assigned to a squadron of transport planes, and she learned English. When she went for training in Beijing in May 2010, her husband joined her. As we know, she got the nod and the rest is history. The group was comprised as shown in Table 8.6.

Table 8.6. China’s third group of yuhangyuan, 2010.

Zhang Hu Chen Dong Cai Xuzhe Tang Honbo Yi Guangfu Yang Waping Liu Yang

The second selection brought the squad to 21, third in the world, behind the United States (68) and Russia (40) but ahead of Europe and Japan. During the Shenzhou 7 post-flight tour, deputy mission director Zhang Jianqi announced that the next, fourth group would comprise scientists and engineers and would be open to Hong Kong and Macao. Later, applicants from industrial companies would be welcomed [15]. China’s selection of astronauts is summarized in Table 8.7.

CONCLUSIONS: SHENZHOU IN RETROSPECT

This chapter outlined how China became the third manned spacefaring nation in the world. It is a program that had an uncertain start, or, to be more accurate, two starts. Its abortive start in 1971 tells us much of China’s long-term ambitions in space, as well as the peculiar political circumstances of the day. Few would now argue that this project was anything other than premature. The ideal of manned flight was, nevertheless, kept alive in the ground and medical training that continued. The second start to the program in 1989 is intriguing from many points of view. First, the decision to go ahead had a far from clear path, for it was characterized by much uncertainty in the Chinese leadership, even if such debates took place behind closed doors. Second, many of the designs considered, such as spaceplanes, were adventurous and very much geared to long-term objectives. In the end, the most conservative design was followed – one which has clearly worked well (we can only speculate when they might have a spaceplane or shuttle airborne). Third, it is also clear that, even after 1992, the success of the manned program was by no means assured. Attempts were made to cancel it, the designers struggled to meet deadlines, and the first 1999 mission may have been something of a gamble. It was a story of many What ifs? There was nothing inevitable about the Chinese manned space program. The early 1990s saw a consolidation of political structures and leadership in China, with clearly dehneated roles for president and prime minister. The timing of project 921 may have been fortunate, for this may have provided the stability necessary for it to bed in.

As for the program that eventually developed, the most striking feature is its slow but steady pace. Although Western observers might have expected China to have developed its manned space program at the pace seen in the United States and Soviet Union in the late 1950s and early 1960s, this was not the case. The development of the manned program was characterized by considerable caution, with four full unmanned missions (1999, 2001, two in 2002) before a single pilot was put on board for a short mission (2003). Even then, the pace of the program was slow, with two years elapsing before the next flight (2005), another three before the space walk mission (2008), and a further four before the first flight to the space station (2012). The slow, cautious pace was rewarded with comparatively incident-free missions. The approach has also been purposeful and economic, each manned mission representing a substantial step forward, with very little repetition of earlier achievements. Each one, though, ticked off all the key requirements necessary for the construction of a space station.

The program demonstrated a judicious combination of indigenous development with external know-how, Shenzhou itself being the prime example. The Chinese permitted themselves to learn from, rather than copy, the Soyuz system, but they chose to buy in Russian expertise where not doing so might well have delayed their progress, such as with spacesuits, environmental control systems, and cosmonaut training. The Chinese by no means allowed themselves to be boxed in by external example, as demonstrated by their use of orbital modules for an independent program, one of the surprises of the Shenzhou program – something which the Russians had never done with their Soyuz orbital module. It gave the Chinese a considerable bonus for each mission and, in the case of Shenzhou 2, 3, and 4, there was a substantial published scientific program. Table 8.8 summarizes the Shenzhou series, including orbital module durations.

The Long March 5, 6, and 7 would replace the existing launcher fleet and form the basis of China’s launcher capacity until at least 2050. The other line of launcher development was the shuttle concept and there were, over the years, intermittent reports of a Chinese interest in building a space shuttle. The Chinese never made any secret of their interest in spaceplane designs – indeed, Tsien Hsue Shen made such preliminary designs in California in the late 1940s. These led to America’s first spaceplane project, the Dynasoar (“dynamic soaring”), eventually cancelled in 1963, and a similar project was developed in the USSR: Spiral. Shuttles and spaceplanes held a number of attractions, especially reusabihty and the ability to land on airplane runways, although the promise of reduced cost proved to be elusive. In the event, only two countries successfully built a space shuttle – the United States and the Soviet Union – but both were hugely expensive; and the Russians even flew a small spaceplane, BOR, into orbit four times. Both Europe and Japan also tried to build spaceplanes (Hermes and HOPE, respectively), but gave up the unequal struggle and a further Russian foray into the area in the 2000s, called Kliper, was likewise abandoned.

Chinese spaceplane designs went back to 1964, with program 640 developed by Tsien Hsue Shen. China did not return to spaceplane designs until the 1980s, the first being Fully Reusable Launch Vehicle with Airbreathing Booster presented at the 1983 International Astronautical Congress in Budapest, Hungary. More extended work was undertaken under project 863 in the 1980s, called program 686-706, which funded a number of spaceplane studies. As outlined in Table 8.2, there was a ferocious competition for the contract for the first manned spacecraft, most of the designs presented being for shuttles, spaceplanes or aerospaceplanes. In the end, the Chinese opted for a conservative, traditional spacecraft design which became Shenzhou. The 1980s competition led to only one item of hardware: a spaceplane built and flown underneath an H-6 bomber – a version of the Russian Tupolev 95 Bear, called Shenlong, or “divine dragon”. The principal designer associated with Shenlong is Zhang Litong of the Northwestern Polytechnic. She is known for her work in engines, high-temperature alloys, and ceramics, and she once worked in NASA’s John Glenn Research Centre in Ohio [12].

The Chinese continued mainly with theoretical studies, as well as some practical ones, making it clear that a shuttle would be many years, possibly decades, distant. At the 2000 International Astronautical Congress, Chinese officials explained that much preliminary work had to be done first in the areas of propulsion systems, aerodynamics, super-light heat-resistant materials, and landing techniques. Progress would depend on overcoming key technical challenges in the areas of thermo­dynamics, thermal protection systems, propulsion, and structures. In 2006, China reiterated its long-term desire to develop a partly re-useable Single-Stage-To-Orbit (SSTO) system, followed by a fully re-useable one, pubhshing illustrative designs of their evolution. Ever since the 1970s, SSTO had been the holy grail of Western launcher research and the Americans put considerable effort into developing these technologies in the 1990s, though none led to the development stage. Despite their difficulties, SSTO was declared the ultimate goal of China launch systems, but their engineers made it clear that they did not envisage an in-service date until at least 2050. On the practical side, two advanced wind tunnels were built by the China Aerodynamics Research and Development Centre in Chengdu to test shuttle designs.

Chinese engineers spoke of the next step being drop tests from 4 km, leading to a mach 15 re-entry test on a Long March 2C to 100 km [13]. Many years later, this had still not progressed.

Ironically, at the time the Shuttle was being retired, the United States finally demonstrated an unmanned military spaceplane, orbiting the X-37B in April 2010 and bringing it back to an automated desert landing in December 2010, with a second X-37B mission flying from March 2011 to June 2012. Whether this would encourage the Chinese to step up the Shenlong and related programs remains to be seen.