Category China in Space

The Chinese originally planned to follow Shenzhou 2 with their third launch in August 2001. In the event, the third mission did not fly for another seven months. The purpose of this mission was to fly a fully rated Shenzhou with a live escape system. The long delays in getting Shenzhou 3 airborne were an instructive example of the deliberative, cautious approach of the Chinese to their manned space program. More than ever, they were determined not to rush their fences and only fly once they were totally happy with their equipment. Shenzhou 3 was rolled out to the launch pad in Jiuquan in late July 2001 – something known from commercial imaging satellites. The Yuan Wang tracking ships soon set out to sea.

In the event, the launch crews were not happy with their checkout of the Long March 2F, especially the electrical connectors, and were unable to make the necessary modifications in situ. Product quality was at fault, indicated one report. The electrical problem must have been deep inside the rocket, because it was sent all the way back on the railway to Beijing on 12th October for modifications. There, 10 further defects were found and corrected. It was back in Jiuquan again by early November. The tracking fleet slipped out to sea again on 16th December for a 10- day rehearsal of its tracking routines in the East China Sea, handing control over from one ship to another. They had a tough time, for they were hit with 5-m-high waves, 60-km/hr winds, and the crews were badly seasick. A fresh attempt to count down the vehicle was made for an 8th January launch date. This time, the avionics were at fault. Internal systems had to be taken out and fully replaced, causing a further three-month delay. As they waited in the winter cold, Jiuquan was hit by some of the worst sandstorms for many years.

Shenzhou 3 was eventually launched at night on 25th March. Its pillar of flame lit up the gantry alongside and sent orange smoke spewing up the side of the site. The escape system was operated in live conditions for the first time. In 10 min, Shenzhou 3 had reached orbit, one slightly different, at 41.4° rather than 41.6°, with an altitude of 195-336 km, 89.84 min. Confirmation that orbit had been achieved was greeted with applause in mission control. Sometime between 7 hr and 9 hr 15 min after launch, Shenzhou maneuvered to its standard orbit of 335 km, 91.216 min – one which brought it exactly over Jiuquan every 31 circuits. This time, the launch was watched by the yuhangyuan squad. Their purpose was to test the procedures for leaving the cabin in an on-the-pad emergency. In the event of having to leave the cabin quickly, they would exit Shenzhou in 5 sec each, run to a tunnel, descend eight floors on a slide, and shelter in a bunker. Some of their personal souvenirs were flown on board.

Shenzhou 3 carried dummies (two or three, depending on one’s sources) with simulated blood pressure, pulses, and breathing. Voice recordings were transmitted to and from the cabin. The half-way point of the mission was signaled several days

later, indicating that the mission was not intended to be longer than the week of Shenzhou 2. More television pictures were relayed of the dummies in the cabin while another shot showed the Earth through the porthole.

On 29th March at 18:15 Beijing time (10:15 GMT) on the 61st orbit, the apogee was raised slightly while Shenzhou 3 was directly over the Yuan Wang 3 comship off Africa in an 8-sec burn to trim it for re-entry. The orbit was raised from 331-336 km, 91.2 min, to 335-342 km. A final trim took place on the 31st, adjusting the orbit from 330-337 km to 330-340 km. On the following day, 1st April, at 15:52, the orbital module was separated and retro-fire took place at 16:02 (Beijing time). Shenzhou crossed the equator for the last time at 16:14 at 34°E. In mission control in Beijing, the path of the incoming spaceship was marked up on the 48-m2 liquid crystal display screen. Twenty-nine-year-old mission controller Shen Jiansong called out each crucial stage as it happened, from retro-fire through to parachute deployment and then touchdown in Chinese Mongolia. Stormy applause broke out. The landing came at 16:51 after a 162-hr mission in which it had flown 108 times around the Earth, covering a distance of 5.4m km. It was an hour and a half before sunset.

In contrast to the previous mission, pictures of the Shenzhou 3 cabin were posted on the internet within minutes. A rescuer was pictured rushing forward towards the cabin, which had alighted on the grassy steppe brush, with a Mil-8 helicopter in the background. Late-afternoon sunlight flooded into the cabin as they opened the

hatches to take out the dummies. The Shenzhou 3 cabin was the first one to come down in daylight.

As was the case with the previous mission, the orbital module then began its own solo career, scheduled to last six months, starting a day later. It was flying over the Jiuquan launch site every 32 circuits and data were dumped to the ground during passes over China on S-band on 2,200-2,290 MHz at 10 МВ/sec. On 1st April, the day of the landing, its engines fired to raise its orbit to 354-257 km, 91.64 min. This path had decayed back to the original altitude by 24th April, so, early the following morning, a burn put the craft back up, this time to 382-388 km. This was a slightly lower altitude than its predecessor module. On 13th June, the orbit had decayed, so a maneuver by the engines raised the module’s orbit from 356-369 km, 91.79 min, to 375-385 km, 92.15 min. The last orbit-raising maneuver took place on 16th July. The orbital module eventually completed its mission on 10th October and decayed on 12th November off Western AustraUa. By then, it had circled the Earth 2,821 times on a 232-day independent mission.

It was announced that 44 experiments were on board, 13 in the descent cabin and 31 on the orbital module. The principal ones were a 34-band medium-resolution imaging spectrograph, cirrus cloud sensor, Earth radiation budget sensor, solar ultraviolet monitor, solar constant monitor, atmospheric composition detector, atmospheric density detector, multi-chamber crystallization furnace and protein crystal equipment (second flight), cell bioreactor, solid-matter tracking detector, and microgravity gauge (third flight). Dealing first with the experiments recovered on the descent module, it contained an experimental microchip, an incubator to hatch eggs, seeds, seedlings, a vaccine experiment, and eggs from Blacklion chickens to test embryo growth. The seeds were taken from plums, vines, and alfalfa. The seedlings project was masterminded by Academy of Sciences genetics professor Liu Min. It was the first time that China had orbited seedlings (as distinct from seeds). This time, grape, raspberry, and orchid had been chosen. On their return, they grew at five to seven times the normal rate, he reported. The grape seedlings would later be attached to adult grapevines. Thirty-eight varieties of seeds were supplied by the Tian Xiang Ecoagriculture Company in Sichuan, including rice, wheat, vegetables, and traditional medicinal herbs. Nine Blacklion chicken eggs flew aboard Shenzhou in an experiment developed by chicken researcher Yang Anning. Thirty days after their return to the Earth, the first three hatched out and the results were analyzed for programs to breed more successful chicken varieties. The descent cabin carried protein crystallization and space cell culture experiments.

Shenzhou 3 marked a significant advance in materials processing with a fluid experimental device to test protein crystal growth and the behavior of cells, cell fusion, and electrophoresis. There was an attempt to grow a gallium crystal for a diluted magnetic superconductor, but there was insufficient energy to melt the crystal sample. Sixteen proteins were crystallized in 60 wells, with four showing significant improvements in diffraction quality and higher signal-to-noise ratios: phosphoenolpyruvate carboxykinase, dehydroepiandrosterone sulfotransferase, cy­tochrome b5, and anti-bacterial pepcide LC1 (a form of snake venom) [5].

Turning to the orbital module, Shenzhou 3 carried an Earth Environment

Monitoring Unit developed by microwave sensing expert Lu Daren in the Institute of Atmospheric Physics. It included the China Moderate Resolution Imaging Spectrometer, C-MODIS, with 34 channels to observe the Earth in visible and infrared light with a resolution of 500 m and a swath of 560 km, providing data for a land, ocean, and atmospheric survey. The spectrometer was used to follow pollutants and chlorophyll in the sea, vegetation on land, desertification, and soil water content. Later, details were released of the hundreds of images collected by the spectrometer, including the sea around north China and forest fires in North America, as well as charts of atmospheric density and composition, the solar constant, and the Earth radiation budget. Atmospheric composition and solar constant charts were published. The atmospheric density meter on Shenzhou 3 recorded densities over half a year in the 330-410-km range. It was a quiet solar period, the most distinctive feature being higher daytime densities and lower night­time densities. The severe solar storms of 17th, 19th, and 22nd April were followed, with air density rising 60% about 6.5 hr after the solar wind reached the Earth. A Solar Irradiance Absolute Radiometer (SIAR) scanned the Sun from March to

September and measured the solar constant at around 1,365 Wm’2. There was a radiation experiment, in which an aluminum box was used to capture heavy ions [6].

American analysts later made a distinctly military interpretation of the payload, believing it was used for electronic intelligence. It is possible that the module carried both electronic direction finders to detect and localize radars while the 550-m aperture camera could be used for visual military observations. According to some analysts, the cabin included a suite of electronic intelligence devices extended from the solar panels, the 50-cm dipoles giving a 4.5-m-wide capability, able to detect radars and electronic devices in the range of 300-1,000 MHz [7].

What is China’s philosophy of space exploration? China’s space goals have been articulated over the years in a series of government economic, defense, and planning statements, documents, and policy papers. Highly political, indeed polemical, language in the 1970s gave way to much more pragmatic statements using frameworks and approaches familiar to students of government and public administration worldwide. Policy statements have attracted particular interest in the United States, where there has been a high level of concern that military and even mahgn objectives have been embedded within the program.

Traditionally, space policy was found within broader plans for economic and scientific development, such as the five-year plans adopted from 1949 onwards and longer-term development plans. For example, spaceflight was an important component of project 863 and was a prominent element within the 1996 National Long and Medium-Term Program for Science and Technology Development, 2000­2020, which included comsats, metsats, satellites for remote sensing, and other applications, providing international launcher services at competitive prices and a new launcher capable of putting 20 tonnes into orbit. It is also fair to say that, as is the case in other countries, the space program has an important national promotional objective, with one white paper referring to its value in inspiring “lofty thoughts”, and presidents such as Jiang Zemin and Hu Jintao have often visited and been pictured at its key events – a feature likely to continue with incoming president Xi Jinping and Prime Minister Li Keqiang.

It was not until 2000 that spaceflight development became subject to a national policy statement in its own right, with the publication on 22nd November that year of a dedicated China white paper on its future space program, given the short title of Modernization. Readers expecting a listing of future launch schedules, dramatic reorganization, or announcements of exciting new projects will have been disappointed. Like most government white papers the whole world over, the language was bureaucratic, the aspirations general, and some of the statements quite bland. Positively, the 13-page white paper was economical in the use of language, logical in its presentation, short, and clear. Political sloganeering and point scoring were completely absent and there was no reference to the American embargoes or issues that arose from the Cox report. Like most white papers universally, the real value was in reading between the lines and in scanning the paper for nuances of ideas in train, projects hinted, and new priorities articulated.

First, the white paper recited China’s space achievements, articulated over­arching aims, and listed broad lines of development. The paper recalled how China had to struggle against “weak infrastructure” and a “relatively backward level of science and technology”. The three broad aims of the space program were exploration, applications, and the promotion of economic development. Space development was set in its broader political context and linked to economic progress, environmental protection, and international cooperation. Internation­ally, China would make a point of working closely with the other countries of the Asia-Pacific region.

Second, in designing its space policy, China proposed to select a small number of key areas of development and concentrate on them, rather than try to do everything. China would build on its best abilities and concentrate on a limited number of areas and targets according to its strengths. China would combine self­reliance with international cooperation. The short-term priorities of the space program were:

• Earth observation of the land, atmosphere, and oceans;

• weather forecasting;

• independently operated communications and broadcasting systems with long operating lives, high capacity, and reliability;

• independent satelhte navigation system.

Third, the long-term priorities of the space program were to:

• achieve manned spaceflight;

• “Obtain a more important place in the world in space science”;

• upgrade existing rockets and introduce the next generation of new, low-cost, non-polluting, high-performance rockets;

• develop a national system of remote sensing, ensuring the effective distribution of data throughout the country;

• fly a new generation of satellites for microgravity, materials science, life sciences, space environment, astronomy;

• make pre-studies for exploration of deep space, centering on the Moon.

The white paper articulated a number of what it called “development concepts” to guide the space program over the next number of years. These were:

• space industry organizations were encouraged to market their products as widely as possible, domestically and internationally;

• resources would be available for tackling key, core technological problems;

• recruitment of talented people to the space industry would be encouraged; the aim was to build a contingent of young, highly qualified scientists and engineers;

• the program would continue to emphasize quality control, risk reduction, and skilled management.

The white paper had few surprises, but confirmed the impression of a space program that would concentrate on some key areas in a systematic way. The emphasis on manned flight and a new fleet of launchers was confirmed, although there was no specific mention of a space station. There was a renewed commitment to space applications and space science. Missions to the Moon were, at that time, still something to study rather than to do. Symptomatic of the long-range thinking was the commitment to improve human resources and to address key technological problems.

The second white paper {Acceleration, 2006) emphasized the role of the space program in supporting the economy, indigenous innovation, the quality of science, China’s interests and rights, national strength, and exploration. A key phrase, reiterating an earlier theme, was “China will focus on certain areas while ignoring less important ones. It will choose some limited targets, concentrate its strength on making key breakthroughs and realize leapfrogging development”. The new paper included the commitment to a space walk, rendezvous, and docking; a space laboratory; the forthcoming Moon probe; the development of the Beidou network of navigation satellites; the development of direct broadcast communications satellites;

and a new type of recoverable satellite. The key new phrase, though, was “leapfrogging development”: key areas to make “substantial, overtaking moves” ahead. Substantial investment in infrastructure was promised.

The third white paper, Full Speed Ahead, was published on 29th December 2011. Its principal commitments were listed as:

• completion of the Long March 5 by 2014, aiming to achieve 40% more thrust than the Ariane 5 and matching the American Delta IV; building the Long March 6 and 7;

• construction of the new Hainan space port;

• completion of the Beidou system by 2020, development of advanced remote sensing, and preparation of the Dong Fang Hong 5 series;

• medium-length spaceflight (weeks, rather than months); preparation of the space station;

• preparation of rover and sample return missions, with pre-research on a heavy launch vehicle for a manned lunar landing;

• debris mitigation.

Between the three white papers – Modernization, Acceleration, and Full Speed Ahead – the methodical picking-up of both the scope and pace of the program was readily apparent [2]. The third white paper should also be seen in the context of the Eleventh Five-Year Plan, 2008-2013 in the section “Space Science Development”. This plan was especially interesting in affirming an investment in space science, hitherto a relatively low priority in the program. Space science was divided into headings: space astronomy and solar physics; solar system exploration; microgravity science and life sciences. Specific missions were identified as a priority, such as the manned and lunar program, the Hard X-ray Modulation Telescope (HXMT), Shi Jian 10, Yinghuo, the later-cancelled Small Explorer for Solar Eruptions (SMESE), and the Space Solar Telescope (SST) (see Chapter 7). The plan was divided according to “scientific tasks and problems” and “main tasks”, as shown in Table 10.6. This plan was important, not so much for its detail, but as an attempt to re-estabhsh space science as a priority within the program as a whole.

Interpreting long-term Chinese aims in space has proved to be a difficult exercise. Writers such as Johnson-Freese, Handberg and Li, Kulacki and Lewis, Jones, Oberg, Clark, Sourbes-Verger, Seedhouse, Lardier, and Pirard have worked hard to promote our understanding and disentangle the various drivers of the Chinese space program, such as national ambition, technology and innovation, military, science, and historical imperatives [3]. Some press commentaries have suffered from negative value-driven judgments on China’s political system and its alleged military and territorial ambitions. Popular media have tended to portray China as being in a “race” with the United States and the idea of a contest undoubtedly attracts readers. At a time when India, Japan, and China all launched Moon probes within a few months of each other, the idea of a “race” was especially irresistible (see, e. g. Morris Jones, The New Moon Race, 2009, Rosenberg, Kenthurst, New South Wales, Australia). Kulacki and Lewis, in their interpretation of Chinese space ambitions, A Place for One’s Mat (2009, American Academy of Arts and Sciences), took a fresh

approach and emphasized that China has sought a recognized role in space exploration – respect and equality – rather than to “win”. They took the trouble of exploring and explaining the language of the Chinese space program, using original sources from China itself. A typical phrase they encountered was yi xi zhi di, “a place for one’s mat”, equivalent to the English “a seat at the table” (in traditional China, one sat on mats on the floor). They drew attention to a second narrative that China, originally the world leader in science, had, over centuries, lost that pre-eminence to Europe and “the West” – a reputation that should be recovered. Here, spaceflight achievement was probably the most recognized metric of scientific capability. Their conclusions were that China sought membership in the world space community, but neither competition with it nor isolation from it.

Many Western commentaries allege that the military, particularly the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), run the Chinese space program: indeed, a recent report to the United States Congress flatly affirmed that “The PLA dominates China’s space activities” [4]. This is true insofar as key facilities in launching and tracking are managed and staffed by the military, much as was the case in Russia until recently (indeed, the US Navy was the primary agency retrieving American astronauts from the oceans). This affirmation greatly overstates its role, for decisions are made by party and government, with the various agencies responsible reporting to them. The prolonged decisions around the first satellite, the communications satellite, and then the manned program showed that, rather like the Soviet Union, there were a variety of actors (party, government, engineers, scientists), but the military, although present, play a minor role. It is true that the Chinese military have made no secret of their wish to use space for military purposes – in 2005, Major General Chang Xianqi wrote a text on the topic, Military Astronautics – but not in such a way as to mark China as substantially different in its approach from Russia or the United States. While China’s military program is clearly an important part of the space program – a fifth of satelhtes launched – it is not overwhelming.

Perhaps one of the most important indicators as to how the space program fits in with long-term thinking is the China Academy of Sciences’ Science and Technology in China – A Roadmap to 2050: Strategic General Report of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, published in 2009 (edited by Lu Yongxian). This was a monumental report covering energy, information technology, synthetic biology, brain function, ecological agriculture, predictive health, security, and genetics. At a time when the Western economies of Europe and the United States were convulsed by financial crises, China was thinking ahead to its economic future over the following 40 years and the time when its population would rise to 1.5bn. The main report had, as a starting point, the failure of China to take advantage of past opportunities – a mistake it was not going to make again. Previously, China “fell from a world economic power into a poverty-stricken country, subject to insult and humiliation by other powers”. Science and technology offered a way forward – one that China had both the vision and the funding to lead, in a process called “the Great Rejuvenation”. The report singled out 22 technology areas for development, such as photosynthesis, geothermal energy, nanotechnology, regenerative medicine, synthetic biology, and mathematics. The general report was the outcome of 18 separate working groups examining how China would tackle diverse fields of technology, of which space science was one. The Roadmap promised that China would become the world leader in science, just as Europe was in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and the United States was in the twentieth. By mid-century, China aimed to publish more scientific papers and create more inventions than any other country. As Yang Zhijun put it: “We are past the stage of ‘Made in China’. From now one, we want the stamp ‘Invented in China’.” The Roadmap is a fundamental, ground-breaking report – one which went unremarked upon by Western countries and media. A noted exception was Theo Pirard: “The message to the world is clear: start getting used to mandarin and Chinese characters” [5].

The separate space science report, called Space Science and Technology in China – A Roadmap to 2050 (edited by Guo Huadong and Wu Ji), was the outcome of a working group of 40 specialists, institutes, study bodies, and space centers. It spoke of making China, by 2050, a moderately developed, largely modernized country and a leader in modernization. The critical tone of the Roadmap is remarkable, repeatedly emphasizing the gap between China and other countries, accompanied by a spirit of urgency and ambition. The space science proposals were broken down into three timelines: immediate (to 2020), medium-term (2030), and

long-term (2050). The Roadmap had three strategic goals: space science, space applications, and space technology. The space science goals were focused on the origins and evolution of the universe, life, the Sun-Earth system, fundamental physics, and the laws of motion. Space apphcations goals were focused on climate change, ecology, energy, and water. Space technology goals were focused on what were identified as “technical bottleneck problems” such as high-resolution observations, navigation, miniaturization and nano-technology, intelligentization, inter-satellite communications, drag-free control, ultra-high-speed flight, and a permanent human presence in space.

Roadmap to 2050 set important targets to address these bottlenecks. For example, targets for communications were 25 Gbps by 2020, 40 Gbps by 2030, and 100 Gbps by 2050 using lasers and quantum communications, cryptography, and key distribution. Navigation targets for autonomous positioning accuracy on deep- space missions were 100 m by 2015 and 30 m by 2025. New propulsion technologies were selected for development, while power supply development was planned in radio-isotope thermo-electric generators, fuel cells, and solar power. Some of the technologies to be developed are quite exotic, such as maser fountain clocks from 2023 and systems to test theories of gravity, relativity, and the equivalence principle from 2025. In the next stage, experiments in fundamental physics are planned in the areas of gravitational wave detection, quantum information and the transportation of cryptographic keys, and the detection of dark energy and cosmic neutrinos.

Under science, seven lines of development were proposed:

1. The high-energy universe, black matter, stellar oscillations, using telescopes on Chinese space stations;

2. The search for life on other planets, with the mastery of life-support systems to make possible bases on the Moon and Mars;

3. Solar terrestrial relations, with high-resolution telescopes to study the Sun, a solar probe, and the SST in 2015;

4. Following the heliosphere in three dimensions, with the Kuafu mission (probes at LI, L2, and polar orbit) and the SPORT mission over the solar poles; automatic platforms on the lunar surface;

5. Solar system missions to find life;

6. Research with atomic clocks to explore the theory of relativity;

7. Manned flights with experiments in weightlessness on materials and fluids.

In applications, the Roadmap envisaged China developing an infrastructure for Earth observation of global changes in the environment. The objective was a high – resolution Earth observation system by 2020, with groups of small satellites for three-dimensional mapping of weather, the oceans, resources, and the environment, using a combination of small, polar-orbiting, and geosynchronous satellites. It would use three ground stations in Beijing (Miyun), Xinjian (Kashi), and Hainan (Sanya), to be followed by two more stations in China, a ground station in Brazil, and one at the pole.

In technology development, the Roadmap set out seven further areas of development:

1. High-precision observation instruments, such as telescopes of 2 m (2025) and 4 m (2035) with an interferometric telescope (2035), with the development of radars, lidars, and sub-millimeter bands;

2. Development of high-resolution and high-precision (0.01”) instruments across the spectrum, with the associated cryogenic technology;

3. Timing instruments for global positioning, fundamental physics, and the gravitational field;

4. Laser communications for sky-to-ground and inter-satelhte communications at the rate of 100 Gps by 2050, as well as Quantum Information Science & Technology (QIST) and the TerraHertz band;

5. Balloons and sounding rockets, both as technological demonstrators and for environmental studies;

6. Mastery of new navigation systems, propulsion, on-orbit autonomy, as well as advanced propulsion systems (e. g. electric, nuclear, solar wind, radio isotopes, photocatalytic fuel production, antimatter);

7. Development of life-support systems for ever more complex manned spaceflight. China would develop Controlled Ecological Life Support Systems (CELSS) so as to make long space missions self-sustaining. They would be commenced by 2030 so as to make possible the building of the lunar base and China aimed to be a world leader in such systems.

The Roadmap was precise in identifying a number of areas in which China was still very much at the starting post. Autonomous deep-space navigation systems, for example, had first flown on Soviet probes to Mars as far back as 1971, but were not even in the development phase yet in China, so there was much to be done. The Roadmap included a mission timehne (Table 10.7).

A striking feature of the Roadmap, following the 2008-13 five-year plan, is the emphasis on space science. According to the Roadmap, China’s record in space science did not match China’s status as an emerging space power. Although China had invested ¥900m over 1996-2005, China’s contribution to scientific papers worldwide was “a very small portion”. Space telescope technology “lags far behind the international level”. The aim of China’s space science program was to tackle cutting-edge questions, address the questions of basic science, and make original contributions and decisive breakthroughs. One of these was dark matter. According to Zhang Shuang-Nan of the Institute of High Energy Physics, the objective of China’s astrophysics program was to study the universe from its origins through its cycles of matter (e. g. supernova, stars) to its end processes (white dwarfs, neutron stars, and black holes), with a particular interest in dark matter: “At this stage,” he said, “we can explain only 4% of the universe. Dark energy dominates the universe, 73% of it and dark matter 23%. There has been an explosion of interest in dark matter. Not a single scientific paper was published on it in 1998, but by 2008 there were 600 – and we still don’t know!”

So far, he said, China had only a modest space astronomy space program, but this would change. To make a start, a dark matter annihilation detection satellite of 1,200-kg payload would be launched in 2015 into an orbit of 500-600 km. Its

2012 Chang e 3 lander/rover

2014 Chang e 4 lander/rover Kuafu

POLAR on Tiangong 2 HXMT

2015 Mars orbiter via asteroids Chang e 5 sample return Space Solar Telescope

Dark Matter Detection Satellite 2018 Chang e 6 sample return MIT

2020 Optimized Solar Maximum Mission

X-ray Timing and Polarization Satellite (XTP)

Large space station, “cosmic lighthouse” dark matter detection experiment 2025 Mars lander

Cold atomic clock

SPORT Solar Polar Orbit Radio Telescope 2030 Manned lunar landing, lunar physics laboratory Global Solar Exploration 2033 Mars sample return mission

2035 First mission through the asteroids to the outer planets Space Optic Interference Telescope 2040 Lunar base

Lunar Astronomical Observatory 2050 Mars landing

purpose was to make highly sensitive detections of high-energy electrons and gamma rays, separating the signatures of annihilation from known electron and gamma-ray processes using scintillators covering the energy range 5 GeV to 10 TeV. Indeed, China’s ambitious astrophysics program contrasted with a likely gap in Western missions, to the point that some experts had penned, in Science, an article entitled “A Dark Age for Space Astronomy?” [6].

The astronomy and astrophysics part of the Roadmap was divided into six programs:

• Black Hole Program (ВНР);

• Diagnostics of Astro-Oscillations Program (DAO);

• Portraits of Astrophysical Objects Program (РАО);

• Dark Matter Detection Program (DMD);

• Solar Microscope Program (SMP);

• Solar Panorama Program (SP).

Some of these missions have already been described in Chapter 1 (the cosmic lighthouse) and Chapter 7 (space science missions). The other missions newly proposed in the Roadmap are covered here, starting with solar missions.

SPORT will travel for four years to enter a Ulysses-type polar orbit between 0.5 and 1 AU around the Sun in time for its next solar maximum and form a space – based weather monitoring system (Meridian II). It will comprise a mother spacecraft and no fewer than eight subsatellites which will be deployed over the solar north pole. To reach the Sun, two similar possible trajectories using low-thrust gravity assist via Jupiter have been calculated. It will make three-dimensional observations, study the connection of the Sun with the interplanetary medium, provide a plasma cloud map as early warning to the Earth, and watch for interplanetary coronal mass ejections (CMEs), especially CME ejections from out of the ecliptic. SPORT’s scientific objectives are to:

• image high-density plasma clouds from solar polar orbit;

• provide a solar weather-forecasting service;

• measure the solar wind in situ;

• discover the heating and acceleration of the solar wind;

• measure the output of solar energy.

Payloads will include a radio high-frequency microwave imager and an extreme ultraviolet imager [7]. For later solar observations, the Meridian network (Chapter 7) will be extended to the Moon, with a space physics observation platform on the lunar surface to monitor the Sun, the Earth, the solar wind, and the magneto tail, while another solar observatory will be established at LI, using solar sail technology.

This will be followed by three further missions. The Optimized Solar Maximum Mission comprised three elements: Solar Radio Array At extremely Low Frequency (SRALF), to study the solar wind; Solar Explorer for High Energy and Far Infrared radiation (SEHEFI), to observe sudden releases from the Sun; and the Super High Angular Resolution Principle X-ray Telescope (SHARP-X) to observe x-rays at high resolution. Global Solar Exploration is a spacecraft with a full set of multi-waveband instruments to study the Sun at a close distance. The Space Optic Interferometric Telescope would observe the solar photosphere with a resolution of 0.01°.

Examining further astrophysical missions, POLAR is a gamma burst polarization experiment with Switzerland, France, and Poland to survey half the sky in 2014 from the Tiangong 2 space laboratory. Its aim is to measure gamma-ray bursts from 30 to 350 keV. The instrument is a stack of plastic scintillators with a weight of 30 kg. The plan is to make a statistically precise sample of gamma-ray bursts and jets so as to prompt an understanding of what drives them. It will be located mid-way along Tiangong’s exterior. This will be followed by the Space Variable Object Matter (SVOM), now approved and to be developed with France with a 2015-20 launch date. It has the objectives of detecting and locating gamma-ray bursts, measuring the spectral shape of their emissions, determining their temporal qualities, and identifying and measuring afterglows, with the following instruments:

• ECLAR, a wide-field telescope to locate gamma-ray bursts in the hard x-ray and soft gamma-ray band (4-250 keV);

• GRM, a spectrophotometer to monitor gamma-ray bursts (50 keV-5 MeV);

• MXT, a telescope to study afterglow; and

• VT, a 45-cm telescope for the visible afterglow of gamma-ray bursts.

For stellar observations, two missions are planned: an X-ray Timing and Polar Satellite (XTP) and a Gravity Wave Telescope, in 2030 (details of this are not yet available). The XTP will, from 2020, study the light curve and neutron stars. The purpose is to explore black holes and neutron stars in the range of 1-30 keV. So far, a €lm feasibility study has been carried out. The following instruments are envisaged:

• high-energy x-ray collimated array (5-30 keV);

• low-energy collimated array (1-10 keV);

• high-energy x-ray focused array (1-30 keV);

• low energy x-ray focused array (1-10 keV);

• all-sky monitor (2-30 keY);

• polarization observation telescope (1-15 keV).

Astronomy was not the only proposed field of space science. The Roadmap set out an agenda for microgravity research, especially in the areas of fluid physics, combustion, non-metallic materials, smoldering, thermal fluid management, heat and mass transfer, evaporation, condensation, granular systems, metal foams, smelting, materials science, and crystallization.

Such are some of the ambitious missions sketched by the Roadmap. They pre­supposed a much improved launcher capability and this is discussed next.

China’s second satellite followed Dong Fang Hong into orbit nearly a year later, using the Long March 1 on its second and final flight. Now that the propaganda value of launching a first satellite had been demonstrated, China’s second satellite could concentrate on scientific tasks. In effect, this second satellite achieved what the first one had been intended to do had political and propaganda imperatives not risen to the fore during the early design stage. Chief designer was Yang Yiachi (1919— 2006), who spent the years 1947-55 studying in and acquiring qualifications from Harvard, Pennsylvania University, and the Rockefeller Institute.

The tasks of the second satellite were agreed at a conference held in the Chinese Academy for Space Technology in Beijing in May 1970. The second satellite received a new designation, Shi Jian (meaning “practice” in Chinese). Slightly heavier at 221 kg, Shi Jian eventually entered orbit on the evening of 3rd March 1971. The mission got off to a problematic start, for, although the explosive bolts separating the satelhte from the third stage fired, the satellite did not separate from its carrier rocket. Enveloped within the third stage, the signals transmitted were weak – only about 1 % of what had been hoped for. The designers were, as one might imagine, perplexed and worried. On the eighth day, the signals suddenly came through loud and clear. Ground observations confirmed that the satellite had now separated from the launcher. Beijing did not announce the launch until 16th March, presumably when separation had been confirmed and stronger signals had been received.

Shi Jian was, like its predecessor, a 72-side polyhedron, but covered in solar cells which charged a long-Ufe two-watt nickel-cadmium battery. In place of the anthem­playing tape recorder, Shi Jian carried three scientific instruments – an 11-mm cosmic ray detector, a 3-mm x-ray detector (1-8 A), and a magnetometer. A hundred automatic thermal shutters closed as the spacecraft entered darkness, opening again as it entered Ught (a similar system was carried by Sputnik 3). Using four short-wave antennae, the radio transmitter emitted a stream of scientific data on 16 channels which could be picked up 3,000 km away. The instruments recorded solar x-ray electrons over 0.88 MeV and protons over 16.9 MeV, while the magnetometer made the first Chinese mapping of the Earth’s magnetic field. Shi Jian continued to transmit scientific data until it burned up in the upper atmosphere on 17th June 1979. The battery and telemetry systems showed no evidence of deterioration and maintained the same high level of performance throughout the mission, despite 10,000 charging and recharging cycles (one for each orbit as the satelhte went into and came out of darkness). The design teams rightly received commendations for these achievements in 1978. The 3,028-day mission appears to have been completely successful. The satellite enabled geophysicists to publish a reference Handbook of the Artificial Satellite Environment.

Shi Jian was very much the achievement of Professor Zhao Jiuzhang, the pioneer of Chinese space science and the founder of the Institute of Applied Physics, which became the Institute of Space Physics [4]. Despite his importance, he is hardly known outside China. Zhao Jiuzhang was bom on 15th October 1907, in Kaifeng, Henan. First, he went to study electrical engineering at Zhejiang Industrial School, now University, in Hangzhou, going on to graduate in physics at Tsinghua University in 1933 and, like most of his colleagues, he went abroad for further study, going to the most scientifically advanced country in Europe – Germany, where he was awarded his doctorate in dynamic meteorology in Berlin in 1938. He returned to China in 1949, where he became director of the Institute of Geophysics immediately after the revolution. He became an expert in the atmosphere, air masses, trade winds, solar energy, charged particles, and magnetic fields. His main achievement was to ensure an early scientific orientation for the space program and set a benchmark for the future. He died on 26th October 1968. Much later, his contribution became ever more appreciated. In 1989, an award for “young and middle-aged scientists” was established in his honor, with 79 scientists winning this much-coveted award in the subsequent 20 years. An asteroid, §7811, was named after him, a COSPAR prize was established to commemorate him in 2006 in the fields of space and atmospheric physics, and the Academy of Sciences held a meeting to commemorate his centenary on 29th October 2009.

Our knowledge of the sounding rocket program in China is fragmentary and incomplete. When the satellite project was canceled in 1958, engineers set to work on the modest but nonetheless challenging objective of building a sounding rocket (Chapter 2). Directed by Wang Xiji, they made two successful launches with the T – 7M in February and September 1960, reaching 8-km altitude. Later saw the development of meteorological sounding rockets called the He Ping (“peace”) series, a two-stage solid-fuel rocket. He Ping 2 was 6.645 m tall, weighed 331 kg, and was able to reach 72 km. Its first flight took place in 1967, serial production began the

following year, and 49 He Ping 2s were launched from 1970 to 1973. The He Ping 6 series began to fly from Jiuquan in 1971, with a final round of nine launches as high as 90 km in 1979. The third series of sounding rockets was called Zhinui (Weaver Girl), beginning in 1988 from Haikou, Hainan. The Zhinui came in two series: the 1 and the 3. The Weaver Girl 3 rocket was 4.87 m tall, weighed 285 kg, has a payload of 45 kg, and can reach 147 km. By 1997, there had been 22 launches [6].

Sounding rockets resumed in 2008 with the launch of a sounding rocket in connection with the Meridian space weather monitoring project. A second launching was reported on 9th May 2011, the rocket identified as the solid-fuel Tianying 3C, also part of the Meridian program, designed to measure the micro-constituents of the atmosphere, electric fields, ion density, and electron temperatures up to 200 km. Its performance was reported as an altitude of 220 km with an experimental package of 50 kg. According to the program for the future development of Chinese space science, Roadmap 2050 (Chapter 10), China had done far too little work with sounding rockets since the 1980s and was now lagging in such critical areas as payload mass, data processing, and the ability to develop serial production.

A January 2000 launch of a domestic communications satellite appeared to be routine. The launching on the Long March ЗА went smoothly enough, but further difficulties came up with the satellite’s name. Some reports called it Zhongxing 22 (or Chinastar 22). However, the “22” came from the location or slot allocated for satellites in 24-hr orbit (98°E, in the event): it was clearly not the 22nd satellite in this or any other series. Eventually, the 2.3-tonne comsat, almost certainly using the DFH 3 design, acquired the name Feng Huo 1, “fire and smoke” in Chinese, named after an ancient system of communicating using beacons along the Great Wall. Whenever invaders threatened ancient China, beacons had been lit all along the wall – a much faster method of warning than horseback. Built by the China Space Technology Institute, Feng Huo appeared to be a test of mobile frequencies for the Chinese military. American intelligence experts went further and said Feng Huo was part of a new command-and-control network, providing targeting capability for ballistic, cruise, ship, and aircraft-borne missiles. Both the United States and Russia used dedicated military communications satellites, so it was no surprise that the Chinese should eventually do the same. Director of the Feng Huo was Peng Shoucheng, bom in 1943, a graduate of Harbin Institute of Military Engineering, originally an expert in electronic countermeasures who had played a key role on the Dong Fang Hong 2 series of comsats. The official owner was identified as the China Telecommunications Broadcast Company, which operated under the Ministry of Post & Telecommunications.

The name Feng Huo was infrequently used by the Chinese. Instead, a new name appeared with the next mission – Shentong – launched in November 2003 and, again referring to the orbital slot allocated, also given the name of both Zhongxing 20 and Zhongxing 21. The third in September 2006 was called Zhongxing 22A, but this again referred to the location, not the satellite, and in effect was co-located with the first, but the Shentong title was not given. This mission was probably a replacement for the first Feng Huo and is called Feng Huo 2 here. The fourth launch on 24th November 2010 was called Zhongxing 20A, located over 130°E and identified as Shentong 1-2. It followed a straight path to geosynchronous orbit, where it arrived after four days. Little information was given on the Zhongxing 1A mission (September 2011), except for a report that debris came down in inhabited areas: one piece damaged houses in Sanxikou in Guizhou, while another fell near Mingkeng village in Jianxi. It was given neither a Feng Huo nor a Shentong designator, but could be either. It was almost certainly the first to use the DFH-4 bus, then becoming the standard communications satellite bus, with the May 2012 mission being the second occasion: certainly this would explain the use of the more powerful CZ-3B.

Chinese literature and promotional material have given little attention to the series, supporting the notion that it might be military. Trying to disentangle and interpret this series is quite hazardous. The precise difference between Feng Huo and Shentong is not known, but Shentong may have Ku-band multiple steerable spot beam antennae. The fifth mission, in May 2012, was given the identifier Shentong 2. It is possible that the two names indicate different owners, Shentong being an army project and Feng Huo combined military forces. The series is summarized in Table 5.3.

Even as the space powers built ever bigger and more powerful launchers, the 1990s saw, paradoxically, the introduction worldwide of ever-smaller satellites. This development was made possible by electronic microcircuits and more sophisticated computers that permitted satellites to be not only much smaller, but also much smarter – able to do more and more without the intervention of ground control. These new versatile satellites could be launched on smaller, less-expensive rockets (e. g. the American Pegasus) or as piggyback payloads on existing rockets (e. g. Russian Dnepr), thus cutting costs even further. Technically, this new generation could be divided into small satellites (less than 500 kg), micro-satellites (less than 100 kg), nano-satellites (less than 10 kg), and even pico-satellites (less than 1 kg!). The principal developer of “large” small satellites is the DFH Satellite Co., a subsidiary of CAST, which makes three buses: CAST100 (50-250 kg); CAST2000
(300-1,000 kg), and CAST968 (around 400 kg). “Small” satellites have generally been made in the universities.

China was quick to join the micro-satellite revolution. Tsinghua University was the center of micro-electronics in China and hosted the National Aerospace High Technology Space Robotic Engineering Research Centre. The center obtained project 863 funding for the development of micro-satellites and set up the Tsinghua Satellite Technology Company in 1998 as a joint enterprise of China Space Machinery and Electrical Equipment Group, Tsinghua University Enterprise, and Tsinghua Tongfang Company. The engineers there turned to the world leaders in this technology, the University of Surrey in England (Surrey Satellite Technology Limited (SSTL)), to build their first micro-satellite.

China’s first small satellite entered 700-km high orbit on 20th June 2000, lofted by a Russian Cosmos 3M rocket from Plesetsk. The 75-kg micro-satellite, duly called Tsinghua 1, was 1.2 m high with a volume of only 0.07 m3. No sooner was Tsinghua in orbit than it sent back its first photographs of the China Sea. Tsinghua carried a camera system able to image the Earth in three spectral bands with 39-m resolution so as to monitor vegetation, floods, wild fires, desertification, and red tides. Within a month, it had sent back over 100 images, which the university made available free to anyone requesting them. Its design life was 10 years and, according to senior engineers at Tsinghua, Xu Xin, was a serious attempt to close the gap with Indian and Western imaging systems. In orbit, it also took part in rendezvous maneuvers with another Surrey satellite, the 6.45-kg nano-satellite SNAP-1 (Surrey Nano­satellite Applications Platform). Following its success, China announced the establishment of a National Research Centre for Small Satellites and Related Applications. First ground for an 8,000-m2 site was broken on 20th April 2003.

The University of Tsinghua hoped that this would pave the way for a constellation of micro-satellites, also to be developed with SSTL, a fleet of 70-kg disaster-warning satellites. This fleet would comprise satelhtes from China, Algeria, Nigeria, Turkey, and Britain in a high polar orbit. This five-satellite Disaster Monitoring Constellation (DMC) was duly launched, the Chinese one called Beijing 1 or DMC-4. Built by SSTL for Beijing Landview Mapping Information Technology, it was launched on Cosmos 3M from Plesetsk on 27th October 2005 into a 686-km Sun-synchronous orbit. Beijing 1 was 166 kg in weight, carried a 4-m panchromatic camera capable of transmitting real-time data at 40 МВ/sec, and a 32­m multispectral camera with a swath of 600 km. It had a hard disk with 240-GB storage, accessible at any time. By 2007, it had completed a 32-m-resolution cloud – free map of all China, with a 4-m-resolution map of Beijing. Part of the approach of Surrey was that engineers would learn from their participation in such a satellite so that they could apply the same methods to build their own – an example followed in the case of Nigeria. Meantime, as a learning exercise, Tsinghua went on to build Naxing, substantially more sophisticated and the smallest satellite with three-axis stabilization [21].

On 27th June 2011, SSTL signed an agreement with 21 AT (21st Century Aerospace Technology) for a new satellite to be part of a new DMC, the agreement being witnessed by the two respective prime ministers, David Cameron and Wen

Jiabao. It would be a three-satellite constellation to launch on a Russian Dnepr from Dombarovsky, each of the new satellites having a resolution of 1 m (panchromatic imaging) and 3 m (multispectral). The agreement gave 21 AT exclusive access to the images of China for mapping purposes.

China’s first indigenous micro-satellite was the 88-kg Chuangxin, meaning “creation” or “innovation” – a program associated with the Academy of Sciences Knowledge Innovation Program. This was a store-and-forward communications satellite built in the southern part of the country by the Shanghai Academy for Space Technology Engineering Centre for Micro-satellites for the Academy of Sciences and Shanghai Telecom. It was launched in October 2003 piggyback on the CBERS 2 Brazilian-Chinese Earth resources satellite. It was developed to assist in hydrology, meteorology, and disaster relief: Chuangxin works by picking up data from monitoring points, buoys, and meters, collecting data on water, hydrology, and

electric power and then relaying them to a center source. Tracked by terminals in Shanghai, Beijing, Xinjiang, and Hainan, it showed off its digital communications capacities and was unaffected by two strong solar flares and 29 single-particle incidents. The following two Chuangxin, 1-02 and 1-03, were put into orbit on Tansuo 2 and 4, respectively (see above).

China’s first pico-satellite (1 kg) was MEMS, deployed with Yaogan 2. Its purpose was to test accelerometers, micro-gyros, infrared sensors, and a camera for Zhejiang University and the Shanghai Institute of Microsystems and Information Technology. It had 26 sides (18 square faces and eight triangle faces), two antennae, and 17 solar cells of 270 cm2 able to provide 2 W of power. The satellite had no moving parts, attitude control, or propulsion system. S-band telemetry is relayed at 4 kbps at 2,300 MHz, with uplink on 2,100 MHz. It is more than likely that the subsequent Pixing subsatellites detached by Yaogan 11, although heavier at 2.5 kg and 3.5 kg, respectively, are derivatives of MEMS, as they were developed in the same laboratory [22].

Other small satellites have been carried piggyback into orbit. Xi Wang was an amateur small radio satellite deployed from Yaogan 8. A small technology development satellite, Tianxun 1, was launched with Yaogan 12 in November 2011. Meaning “day tour”, it was built by Nanjing University of Aeronautics and Astronautics. It is a 58-kg satellite with a 2.5-kg Earth imaging camera of resolution 30 m built by Suzhou University. Yaogan 14 deployed a small satellite for the National University of Defence Technology. Called Tiantuo 1, or “space pioneer”, it carried an imager, atomic oxygen sensor, and maritime tracking sensor. Between them, these 10 satellites gave China considerable edge in the development of small satellites. Small satellites are summarized in Table 6.12.

With the return of Shenzhou 3, Chinese space experts let it be known that only one more flight would be necessary before a manned spaceflight. This would be the dress rehearsal for the real mission in which two astronauts would spend three days in space. During the summer, 52 experiments weighing 300 kg were selected to fly on the Shenzhou 4 mission, some having taken part in earlier missions. With none of the delays that held back the launching the previous year, Shenzhou 4 soared into the cold night skies of northern China at 00:40 am on 30th December. They were indeed cold, for launch temperature was -18.5°C, rising from a previous -27°C. Present were Shenzhou designer Qi Faren and the 12 men of the yuhangyuan squad, each of whom hoped he would be chosen to fly the next one. Several days before the launch, the yuhangyuan had each entered the cabin on the pad to test entry and exit procedures. The scene echoed the events of 25th March 1961, when Yuri Gagarin and his five colleagues of the final training group went to Baikonour to watch the launch of Korabl Sputnik 5, the final dress rehearsal before the mission of Yostok.

The orbit was spot on: 331-337 km, 91.2 min, 42.41°, tweaked to the perfect orbit on the fifth circuit. Two maneuvers were made to raise the orbit, on 31st December and 3rd January. On each occasion, when the orbit dropped to 91.088 min, engine firings pushed Shenzhou back up to 91.102 min and there was a further set of two thruster firings on 4th January. An important function of the mission was to improve the air supply system, which had left excessive harmful gases on the previous missions.

Shenzhou 4 blasted its retrorockets over Africa, making a giant curved descent over the horn of Africa, Arabia, and Pakistan. In the cold and shghtly foggy recovery region, Mil helicopters, transfer cabins, and recovery vehicles with direction finders on their roof moved in. The cabin came to rest in the dark in the middle of the 60 x 36-km landing zone, targeted 40 km from Hohhot, the capital of Inner Mongolia. Teams in orange suits rushed forward to the silvery descent cabin, which lay on its side, and retrieved the two dummies inside. The descent cabin returned to Beijing three days after it touched down. The experimental section was opened and the yuhangyuan climbed inside to examine its condition. The biological experiments were recovered: the Institute for Plant Physiology and Ecology in the Shanghai Institute for Biological Sciences had devised a complex set of experiments for fusing

cells in animals (mice) and plants (tobacco), so sensitive that they could not be loaded on board until eight hours before take-off. Among the plants and seeds to be flown were vegetables, grain, flowers, medicinal herbs, Pinellia tuber, and goldthread. Peony seeds from Luoyang, Henan, were subsequently exhibited at its next spring show. Ground crews recovered the cell electrofusion unit for life and materials sciences experiments.

As was the case with previous missions, Shenzhou 4 left its orbital module behind. The module maneuvered first on 5th January to 354-366 km. A month later, its altitude had declined to 331-346 km, so the rockets on board fired on 9th February to raise its orbit to 359-366 km. The third maneuver raised the orbit to 359-373 km on 1st April, with additional corrections on 17th and 22nd April to restore the orbital altitude. The module finally decayed on 9th September 2003 after the longest orbital module mission so far.

On board were 11 experiments, including an upper atmosphere detector, high – energy radiation and low-energy radiation detector, biological module, and microgravity fluid tester. Shenzhou 4 continued fluid physics experiments begun on Shi Jian 5 and Mir, this time using drops of inert liquids and silicon oil. The first electrophoresis separation experiment was performed, the outcome of research initiated under project 863 in the early 1990s. The cabin also carried ion and proton detectors.

Shenzhou 4 carried a multi-mode microwave remote sensor system first developed by Li Jing, also under project 863. This combined a radar altimeter, radar scatter meter, and multichannel microwave radiometer, called a Multimode Microwave Sensor (MMS), to observe in five bands the atmosphere and ocean, specifically their temperature and winds through clouds. There was a laser microwave altimeter to measure the altitude of the module from the ground to 10-cm accuracy (e. g. 331.25631 km). The altimeter was only 20 cm across and 800 g in weight and was installed on the bottom of the spacecraft. Over 2,000 measurements were taken over three days both to test out its accuracy and to infer information about changes in the Earth’s oceans. The quadruple mass spectrometer atmospheric composition detector took readings from January to March 2003 over the southern hemisphere summer. During geomagnetic disturbances, the level of nitrogen in the atmosphere rose and the level of oxygen declined, more so closer to the South Pole, possibly as a result of the heating of the upper atmosphere. Shenzhou 4’s orbital module was the third in the series to carry an atmospheric density detector and, several years later, their accumulated outcomes were published. They showed that, during quiet solar periods, atmospheric density had a diurnal pattern, falling at night and rising during the daytime. During a strong magnetic disturbance, air density could rise as much as 56% within 7 hr, falling back to its original value in not more than three days [8].

The idea of a new generation of launch vehicles goes back more than 20 years. The decision to proceed with a manned space program in 1992 was linked to a new fleet of launchers. In 1992, at the International Astronautical Congress, Xiandong Bao of the Shanghai Electromechanical Equipment Research Institute outlined in A Modular Space Transportation System a new launcher system able, in different variants, to lift a range of payloads of up to 20 tonnes at the top end. His baseline study marked China’s move away from nitric fuels and to larger-diameter rockets of more than 3-m diameter, and the concept of the launcher family in which different combinations of stages are clustered to send smaller or larger payloads to orbit [8].

In the event, development of the new fleet of launchers would take a long time and, for the Shenzhou and Tiangong programs, China would rely on its existing Long March fleet. A Mir-class space station, though, would require a much heavier rocket capable of putting at least 20 tonnes into orbit. From the beginning, this was called the Long March 5 project in the West and eventually it acquired this name in China itself. From an early stage, the Chinese made it clear that it would be built in multiple versions, from light to heavy, and that it would form the backbone of the launcher fleet to at least 2050. They also took the decision, as did Russia, of phasing out toxic launchers in favor of more environmentally acceptable fuels (kerosene or hydrogen with liquid oxygen).

To kick off the project, the government allocated project 863 funding to develop some of the critical technologies necessary. Project 863 money was focused on the new engines, cost containment, and the achievement of reliabihty. During their earher shopping visits to Moscow, the Chinese had been unable to persuade the Russians to part with the designs of the huge RD-170 engine used on their Energiya rocket, although they were allowed to buy its upper-stage RD-0120 engine (they bought three: one for testing, one for taking apart, one for spare).

At the 2000 International Astronautical Congress, Wu Yansheng and Wang Xiaojun presented A Prospect over the Development of Long March Vehicles in the Next Decade, reporting progress on the design. They outlined the Long March 5 as a 55-m-tall rocket using liquid-hydrogen and liquid-oxygen main engines, flanked by four large strap-ons, weighing up to 800 tonnes, with a lift-off thrust of up to 1,000 tonnes and able to place 23 tonnes in low Earth orbit or send 11 tonnes to geostationary orbit. The next iteration became available not long thereafter, when the February 2001 Aerospace Magazine presented the dimensions of the rocket. The stage would have diameters of 2.25 m (called the K2), 3.35 m (the КЗ), and 5 m, depending on the number of lower stages used and the length of the upper stage. The capacity of the launcher grew to 13 tonnes to geosynchronous orbit and 25 tonnes to low Earth orbit, where it settled. It would be kerosene-fuelled for the lower stages (120 tonnes’ thrust) and hydrogen-fuelled for the upper (50 tonnes’ thrust). Two years later, officials set program targets of a reliability of 98.5%, commercial prices 30% lower than the Long March 3, and a launch preparation period of 15 days.

The CZ-5 program obtained governmental approval in June 2004 and development was assigned to the China Academy of Launcher Technology (CALT).

In 2007, the dimensions were given at 5-m diameter, 59.4 m tall, weight 643 tonnes, thrust 825 tonnes. The first cargo would be the 9-tonne Feng Yun 4 metsat. Later figures were given of a lift-off mass of up to 790 tonnes and lift-off thrust of up to 10,680 kN.

Two new engines were required. Although inspired by the now aging YF-20 design, they were larger and more powerful, with oxygen-rich staged combustion cycle engines. These were a 120-tonne-thrust liquid-oxygen and RP-1 kerosene YF – 100 engine for the first stage and a 50-tonne liquid-oxygen and liquid-hydrogen YF – 77 engine for the upper stage. The YF-100 engines were to have a thrust of 1,179 kN and a specific impulse of 305 sec while the YF-77 hydrogen engine was to have a thrust of 540 kN and a specific impulse of 432 m/sec. Their development took over 10 years. In 2012, the YF-100 was successfully tested at the 7103 factory of the Academy of Aerospace Liquid Propulsion Technology (AALPT) in Xian to 20,000 revolutions a minute for 200 sec, reaching a temperature of 3,000°C, and delivery of the first production YF-lOOs began. Its high-pressure staged combustion cycle engine made China only the second country after Russia to master the technologies

Long March 5 (left), compared to the powerful but Line drawing, showing clearly the thinner Long March 3 series on its right. Courtesy: Paolo importance of the strap-on boos – Ulivi. ters. Courtesy: Mark Wade.

involved. Finally, the CZ-5 design was frozen, with up to six variants (Table 10.8). In each case, the core stage and second stage are 5 m wide.

Various different letters were given for the different models. The D is the largest beast, for 10 YF-lOOs will fire together at lift-off: two main-stage engines, with four strap-ons, each with two engines, its 784 tonnes comparing to the American Delta IV (760 tonnes) and Atlas V (956 tonnes) and Europe’s Ariane 5 (733 tonnes). While primarily intended to launch large space station modules, at the Zhuhai air show in 2009, China specifically identified the CZ-5D version as a rival to Europe’s Ariane 5, able to put two satellites into 24-hr orbit simultaneously, compared to Ariane’s one large and one medium. First launch was set for 2014. In 2012, the first pictures were published of CZ-5 production, welding, and assembly.

These early achievements took place against a background of continued turmoil. The Military Commission, which was dominated by leftists led by Lin Biao, persuaded the government and party to adopt a new five-year plan (1971-76) which had the slogan “three years catching up, two years overtaking”. This plan committed the country to a furious expansion of the space program, with eight new launch vehicles and 14 new satellites in five years (other reports speak of an average of nine satelhtes a year). Many of these projects, which most scientists considered to be unnecessary and unrealistic, got under way, though few saw the Ught of day. They disrupted existing projects and saw the commencement of several projects which later had to be abandoned. There were fresh political interruptions after the dramatic events of September 1971 when Lin Biao fled China for the Soviet Union: en route, his plane was shot down by Chinese fighters and it crashed in flames. There were purges and counter-purges of his associates in the space program. Order did not return until after the death of Mao in September 1976 and the overthrow by the military of the Gang of Four led by his wife Jiang Qing the following month.

The 1971-76 plan was scaled down to more limited objectives, the principal one being to launch a geostationary communications satellite. The emerging leader, Deng Xiaoping, presented a much revised space policy in August 1978. China was a developing country and “as far as space technology is concerned, we are not taking part in the space race. There is no need for us to go to the Moon and we should concentrate our resources on urgently needed and functional practical satellites”. The space budget was trimmed to meet more modest ambitions, falling to 0.035% of Gross National Product, traihng not only the big space powers, but neighboring comparators Japan (0.04%) and India (0.14%), too. Deng Xiaoping encouraged newer, younger, and more pragmatic engineers and managers to come forward in industry, concentrating on modernization rather than ideological struggle, although it took some time to undo the damage done to science, education, and industry by the cultural revolution.

Several months later, in October 1978, Deng Xiaoping announced the “four modernizations”: science and military technology, agriculture, education, and industry (dissidents cheekily added a fifth modernization: democracy). This began the process of opening the country not only to foreign investment and private enterprise, but also to international cooperation in science. In 1980, China joined the International Astronautical Federation, the Chinese membership body being the Chinese Society of Astronautics, whose president was Tsien Hsue Shen. China joined the International Telecommunications Union and the UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space. Twenty years of isolation from the world space community came to an end, with visits by space experts from the European Space Agency, France, Japan, and an American delegation even toured. China hosted its first international space conferences on space in 1985. China negotiated with the United States for the use of Landsat data and purchased a ground station to receive its data the following year. By 1988, China was sending its most promising engineering graduates to courses in the MIT, from where their predecessors had been driven out in the 1950s. China joined the international committee on space research, COSPAR, in 1992.

The Chinese space program opened up within China itself. Workers in the space industry had been prohibited, on pain of extreme penalties, from telling their families where they worked and, in a practice borrowed from the Soviet Union, they were assigned mailbox numbers, their institutes never being geographically identified. The greatest challenge faced by new graduates assigned to the space industry was to actually find their future place of work, since virtually no one was allowed to tell them where it was! Likewise, the railway fine to Jiuquan had not been marked on any map. From now on, most space organizations were publicly named, identified, and listed.

Sergei Korolev, Russia’s great chief designer, once remarked that at the heart of a successful space program lay a sound rocket engine. Russian rocket engines were designated RD – (raketa dgvatel), or “rocket engine”, from -1 onward and China has followed a similar system, using the designator YF-, or yeti fadong (“liquid-type engine”). Data on Chinese rocket engines are much less satisfactory than the Russian data. China has developed a very small number of rocket engine types, but with many variants. In essence, there are four types: the YF-1 to YF-3 series used at the very beginning; the YF-20 to YF-24 series used for the CZ-2 and CZ-3; the YF-40 series used for the CZ-4; and the YF-73 and YF-75 series used for the CZ-3 upper stage (incoming engines related to the Long March 5 are discussed in Chapter 10). These rocket engines have been adapted and modified to serve the entire range of the Long March families. In addition, China has developed a small number of solid – rocket motors and minor engines.

The YF-20 engine, which dates to 1965, with its variants, has been used for the Long March 2, 3, and 4 rockets, being introduced on the Long March 2C in 1975. The YF-20 has a thrust of 70 tonnes and uses UDMH with nitrogen tetroxide as oxidizer. For the Long March 2, the Chinese clustered four YF-20s together to provide a lift-off thrust of 280 tonnes (this configuration was called the YF-21 or 20A). An improved version, the YF-20B, with 7% more thrust, was developed for the Long March ЗА, 3B, and 4 (when clustered, they may also be called the YF-21B). The YF-20B was introduced on the Long March 2D in 1992 and a single YF-20B engine is used on each strap-on booster for the Long March 3B. These are big engines, weighing nearly 3 tonnes (2,850 kg).

For the second stage, the YF-22 engine is used: it is a modification of the YF-20 and is designed to light at altitude. It was introduced as far back as 1975 on the Long

March 2C second stage. Later versions were called the YF-23 and YF-24 series, several with A and В sub-designators. Note that, in directories of Chinese rockets, YF-20, 21, 22, 23, and 24 designators are often seen, but they belong to the same family, the differences between them being small.

The YF-40 is the third-stage engine used on the Long March 4 rocket introduced in 1988. Third-stage engines are relatively small in size and thrust compared to the first and second stages, but they have longer burn times, in the order of 320 sec. These are small engines, 166 kg in weight, 1.2 m long, and 65 cm in diameter.

When the Long March 3 flew in 1984, China became the third country in the world to tame liquid hydrogen-fuelled upper stages after the United States (Centaur) and Europe (Ariane). Not only are hydrogen fuels difficult to master, but a complication is that the third stage must be restartable – firing once to enter Earth

orbit, a second time about 50 min later for the transfer to geosynchronous orbit. Design of a third stage, restartable hydrogen-fuelled engine, the YF-73, began in 1965, but testing of the new designs was not completed until 1979 and, even then, the first flight test failed in January 1984. This problem must have been promptly identified and remedied, for the next mission, four months later, went perfectly. The thrust of the YF-73 liquid-hydrogen third stage was 4.5 tonnes, with a burn time of 13.3 min. An improved version, the YF-75, was introduced with the Long March ЗА in 1994 and was since used by the 3B. The YF-75 weighs 550 kg, is 2.8 m tall, and 3 m in diameter, and has a thrust of 8 tonnes. Restarting problems have, disappointingly, recurred from time to time (though such problems are not entirely absent from the other space programs, especially Russia’s).

China has developed two families of solid-rocket motor engines: the GF series and the PKM (Perigee Kick Motor). With the beginning of flights to 24-hr orbit in 1984, a new generation of solid-fuel rockets was required to carry out the maneuvers necessary to ensure that communications satellites accurately reached their final orbital destinations. The PKM was developed to complete the transfer of comsats to geostationary orbit. Built by the Haxi Chemical and Machinery Company, it is 1.7 m

in diameter, 2.5 m long, and weighs 5,978 kg (5,444 kg is propellant). The GF series was used as a final stage to get the Feng Yun 2 series into 24-hr orbit (the 729-kg GF-36) and the smaller GF-14, 23, and 23A solid-rocket engines have been used as retrorockets for the FSW 0, 1, and 2 series, respectively. The GF-15 solid-rocket motor (500 kg) was developed as the apogee motor for the Dong Fang Hong 2 comsats and the 15B for the Dong Fang Hong 2A.

Overall, Chinese rocket-engine development has been conservative, rather like in Europe, leaving cutting-edge development to the original masters of rocket-engine design: Russia. Evidence of an interest in innovation came at the Asian Joint Conference on Propulsion and Power, held in Xian in March 2012, when reports came out of Chinese interest in developing a methane engine. Exotic engines had been developed in Russia, first by Valentin Glushko’s Gas Dynamics Laboratory (the RD-301), later resumed in the Franco-Russian Ural engine development program. China began its work on electric propulsion in the 1960s, but did not progress until a pulsed plasma thruster, the MDT-2A, was first run in the 1980s and an arcjet in the 1990s.