Category Space Ship One

Burt Rutan does not release much information about a newest aircraft while it’s under development. In fact, it is usually not until the aircraft is ready to fly that people finally get a glimpse of his newest project. The in-house name of their secret space program was Tier One. This name wasn’t uncommon to Scaled Composites. Rutan used “tier one,” “tier two,” and “tier three” to designate what he described as the “fun factor” of a program. When tier-one programs came around, the company would always bid on them, since they were highly motivational programs for his employees, which helped him retain his skilled staff while being out in the middle of a great big desert. Scaled Composites normally used the aircraft’s name as the in-house program name. But this program of course had two vehicles.

“I was making a point to my employees that this was going to be the most fun program that we’ve ever done and the most important one for us to do,” Rutan said.

“That was the original reason behind calling the SpaceShipOne program Tier One. Later on when we started to entertain if we should do other manned spacecraft, I just had a feeling that I should make a category for different basic areas of manned spacecraft. Because it seemed like a good breakdown, I defined that if we do programs in the future that send people to Earth orbit, it would be called Tier Two. If we do things that send people outside of Earth orbit to other heavenly bodies like the Moon and Mars, it would be called Tier Three.”

The spacecraft and the carrier aircraft needed names, too. The spacecraft was Rutan’s Model 316, and the carrier aircraft was Model 318. “Those I assign when I first look at the requirements and
have the first idea of what would be the configuration solution. Those model numbers were assigned years before we had a funded program for building.”

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Fig. 1.11. The feather mechanism, the most innovative feature of SpaceShipOne, allowed the rear half of the wings and the tail booms to fold upward, which prevented dangerous heat buildup upon reentry but enabled a very stable descent. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, provided courtesy of Scaled Composites

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Fig. 1.12. Since wind-tunnel testing was not part of the design and development of SpaceShipOne because of the large expense, Scaled Composites used a computer method called computational fluid dynamics (CFD) to model the aerodynamics. The photograph shows designer Burt Rutan and aerodynamicist Jim Tighe reviewing a computer analysis of SpaceShipOne. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by Scaled Composites

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SpaceShipTwo and its launch aircraft are Models 339 and 348, respectively.

Rutan added, “We’ve only flown thirty-nine manned airplanes. Most of the concepts don’t get funded and developed.”

One example of this is Model 317. This was the design that squeaked between theTier One spacecraft and its mothership. A new – concept vertical takeoff and landing (VTOL) light aircraft, the tail-sit­ter would take off like a helicopter but fly conventionally.

White Knight was named by Cory Bird, an employee of Scaled Composites who also flew as a flight engineer in the carrier aircraft on several of the test flights. Bird had made a drawing of a knight in white armor, which Rutan thought was very clever. The drawing ended up being the insignia for White Knight, too.

And although Rutan names very few of his airplanes, the spacecraft was an exception. “I wanted to make a point that other manned systems that carried people into space tended to be capsules or spacecraft. But if you read fantasy that kids do, it’s always a spaceship. And I thought this is interesting in that there has been a lot of manned spacecraft, capsules, and vehicles, and all these boring names. I felt that this might be the first thing that flies people into space, that you have the moxie to call it a spaceship.”

So, since he considered it the first spaceship, he mixed the words around with numbers. “And I thought, I don’t have any problem

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Fig. 1.13. By using computer analysis, Scaled Composites was able to evaluate the aerodynamic characteristics of SpaceShipOne even before construction got started. However, it was still necessary to test SpaceShipOne in flight to get the complete picture. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, provided courtesy of Scaled Composites

V_____________________________ ) calling this SpaceShipOne because I want to build a SpaceShipTwo, and I want to build a SpaceShipThree.”

Figure 1.14 shows SpaceShipOne mated up to White Knight before the public unveiling and even before paint schemes were added.

In order to be able to fly, though, SpaceShipOne and White Knight each needed a tail number, which is unique identification that every aircraft has similar to a car’s license plate, and had to be registered with the FA A. SpaceShipOne was given N328KF, which stood for

328,0 feet, the boundary line between Earth’s atmosphere and space, while White Knight was given N318SL, where the 318 model number and the SL stood for spaceship launcher.

“We didn’t get our first choices on that,” Rutan said. “For example, I wasn’t particularly enamored by 328KF. I would have rather had 100KM, 100 kilometers. But it was taken.”

Along with the tail number, the type of aircraft had to be identi­fied to the FA A. White Knight was pretty straightforward, but SpaceShipOne wasn’t so clear cut. The FA A felt that commercial launch licensing was required for SpaceShipOne. This was a somewhat long and drawn-out process. So as not to delay flight testing, Scaled Composites initially registered SpaceShipOne as a glider. This made perfect sense because about half the time during a spaceflight SpaceShipOne was a glider. But more importantly, the initial flight test­ing would be done without a rocket engine. So, by calling it a glider first, Scaled Composites was able to buy some time before having to get their commercial launch license, even though Rutan had no intention of using SpaceShipOne commercially.

“When I was out in Mojave for the first-time flight of the X Prize that Mike Melvill flew, it was the first time I had a chance to spend some time with Burt’s design team,” Poberezny said. “And what was striking was the intelligence that he recruited, the youth and the motivation. In other words, they were hungry and they were motivated to be successful and to make a difference. So, I give Burt a lot of credit. When he saw talent, he brought them in.”

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Fig. 1.14. Shown before their paint schemes were added, SpaceShipOne and White Knight share virtually identical cockpits and instruments. But where White Knight has jet-engine controls, SpaceShipOne has rocket-engine controls. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by Scaled Composites

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Rutan gave direction and vision to his staff but still allowed them to exercise their own strengths and abilities. And Rutan would depend on the contributions of the entire team at Scaled Composites to get SpaceShipOne into space.

On April 18, 2003, slightly more than two years after receiving Paul Allen’s backing, Rutan was ready to go public. SpaceShipOne could no longer be hidden away in Scaled Composites’ hangar. All the compo­nents ofTier One were in place, and SpaceShipOne was ready for flight testing. Figure 1.15 shows SpaceShipOne after the curtain dropped.

White Knight had been flying since August 2002. It was strange enough looking, yet similar enough to the way-out look of Proteus that Scaled Composites didn’t worry too much about it occasionally being spotted ahead of time. Both these aircraft have been widely described as looking like giant prehistoric insects or spaceships from Star Trek.

It would be a full month, though, before SpaceShipOne would take to the air for the first time. However, Rutan had a surprise in store for his guests at the coming-out party. He had White Knight do fly-bys for everyone gathered at the flightline in front of the Scaled Composites hangar. Figure 1.16 shows Proteus, the original spaceship launcher, and White Knight, the new spaceship launcher, flying together, and table 1.1 gives the specifications for White Knight.

Aside from the two vehicles, the other important Tier One compo­nents were revealed, refer to figure 1.17.The test stand trailer (TST) was a partial mockup of SpaceShipOne used to develop the rocket engine. A tanker truck called the mobile nitrous oxide delivery system (MONODS) supplied the nitrous oxide (N20) to the oxidizer tank on the TST and in SpaceShipOne. And the Scaled Composites unit mobile (SCUM) truck was used for ground control, providing

Table 1.1 White Knight Specifications 82 feet (25 meters)

468 square feet (43.5 square meters)

60 inches (152 centimeters) for maximum outer diameter

19.0 pounds (8,620 kilograms) at takeoff with SpaceShipOne

one pilot (front seat) and two passengers (back seat) "short-sleeved" pressurized cabin two J-85-GE-5 turbojets with afterburners 7,700 pounds-force (34,000 newtons)

JP-1

6,400 pounds (2,900 kilograms)

8,000-9,000 pounds (3,630-4,080 kilograms)

53.0 feet (16,150 meters)

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Fig. 1.16. Proteus, flying below White Knight, first took flight in 1998 and was originally planned as the carrier aircraft for a single-person rocket. As the spacecraft design evolved into SpaceShipOne, the larger White Knight was required. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by Scaled Composites

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a telemetry link with the TST during rocket-engine testing or SpaceShipOne during a flight.

The last component, shown in figure 1.18, was the flight simulator, which Scaled Composites specially designed for Tier One. It was the first flight simulator Scaled Composites ever built and used for one of their aircraft.

Having a sponsor instead of a customer, building with a robust design approach, performing incremental testing, incorporating as many similarities between SpaceShipOne and White Knight as possible, and conducting extensive pilot training in the flight simulator, White Knight, and Extra 300 aerobatic plane would all prove key factors upon which the success of Tier One would depend.

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Fig. 1.17. Tier One, the space program of Scaled Composites, comprised SpaceShipOne, the spacecraft; White Knight, the carrier aircraft; test stand trailer (TST), the rocket-engine testing platform; mobile nitrous oxide delivery system (MONODS), the nitrous oxide (N20) supply tanker; and Scaled Composites unit mobile (SCUM) truck, a ground-control station. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by Scaled Composites

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Fig. 1.18. Jeff Johnson, project manager for Mojave Aerospace Ventures, sits at the simulator control desk and monitors the progress of a simulation. One of the most critical components of Tier One was the flight-training simulator. Primarily designed by Pete Siebold, it allowed the test pilots to practice and refine the techniques required to fly the challenging trajectory of SpaceShipOne. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by David M. Moore

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On November 22, 2001, Steve Bennett’s Starchaser team, based in the United Kingdom, became the first competitor to launch a vehicle while displaying an X Prize logo. The single-person Nova capsule, unmanned at the time, rode atop the Starchaser 4 booster. The rocket reached a height of 5,541 feet (1,689 meters). Courtesy of Starchaser Industries

t the front of SpaceShipOne’s stout fuselage, many small portholes take the place of a conventional canopy or windshield, giving the vehicle its truly far-out look. As shown in the views in figure 4.1 and figure 4.2, the twin tail booms are another of the spaceship’s most distinguishing features. In terms of function, however, SpaceShipOne’s feather mechanism is unique among all aircraft and spacecraft. The forward half of each wing is fixed, but the rear halves, including the tail booms, fold upward for reentry.

The appearance of SpaceShipOne bears resemblance to aspects of several pioneering rocketcraft. The bullet-shaped fuselage appears very similar in shape to the Bell X-1, shown in figure 4.3. However, the X-l itself shares a common shape with the V-2 rocket, which was initially modeled after a rifle bullet. The use of a delta wing and stabilizers at the wingtips is also reminiscent of NASA’s early lifting bodies, as shown in figure 4.4.

Burt Rutan’s innovative use of composites took shape in the 1970s when he built his second aircraft, theVariEze. Now with SpaceShipOne, an aircraft so radically different in function, purpose, and performance, Rutan and the Scaled Composites team had to tap deep into their expertise. And when this wasn’t sufficient, they had to risk taking a leap. Their decades of experience with the manufactur­ing of strong, lightweight composite aircraft would be tested to the limits, because so much of the design and construction was brand-new territory. So how does one go about building a spaceship? This is a question that wouldn’t have

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Fig. 4.1. Among SpaceShipOne’s most distinct features are the round windows on its bullet-shaped nose, the outboard tail booms at the wingtips, and the thick, swept-back wings mounted high on the fuselage. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by Scaled Composites

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Fig. 4.2. At a length of 28 feet (8.5 meters), SpaceShipOne is shorter

than the Bell X-1, the very first X-plane. However, the width of SpaceShipOne, the distance between the tips of the horizontal stabilizers on the tail booms, is 27 feet (8.2 meters), which is comparable in size to the wingspan of the X-1. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by Scaled Composites

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Fig. 4.3. Parked in front of the B-29 mothership, the X-1 was built by Bell Aircraft Corporation for the U. S. Army Air Forces and the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, the predecessors of the U. S. Air Force and NASA, respectively. The X-1 ‘s revolutionary use of structures and pioneering aerodynamic shapes and controls enabled Chuck Yeager to become the first to break the sound barrier, flying faster than Mach 1. NASA-Dryden Flight Research Center

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Fig. 4.4. Known as lifting bodies because they were considered wingless, the rocket-powered X-24A, M2-F3, and HL-10 (left to right) dropped from a B-52 to explore the possibility of returning from space in an unpowered glide. Up until then, spacecraft had only returned from space using parachutes, and the data obtained by these vehicles helped pave the way for the Space Shuttle. NASA-Dryden Flight Research Center

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Table 4.1 Size Comparisons for Rocketcraft

an answer until SpaceShipOne was ready for flight testing. Even then, after each step forward and envelope expansion, it was necessary to make modifications or refinements to overcome the technical challenges that waited in the wings.

rizes and competitions during aviation’s infancy sparked what is one of the largest industries today. With that in mind, Peter Diamandis, the founder of the X Prize Foundation, sought to stimulate a similar excitement and interest. But this time the sights were set a little bit higher, 100 kilometers (62.1 miles or 328,000 feet) high to be exact. Here the atmosphere is all but nonexistent, and aerodynamics really don’t matter much anymore.

The Ansari X Prize would draw teams competing from Argentina, Canada, England, Israel, Romania, Russia, and the United States. Figure 2.1 and figure 2.3 show some of the many different approaches the teams had in their attempts to snatch the Ansari X Prize.

Yet there was much to overcome. The biggest obstacle was public perception. How could any one of these teams—not governments—accomplish something straight out of the pages of science fiction books?

“When I talked to people during dinner conversation about building a spaceship,” said Anousheh Ansari, the title sponsor of the Ansari X Prize, “they completely thought I was a nutcase. They were surprised. Of course now, nobody thinks we’re crazy. But back in 2002, you talked about spaceships and building spaceships and no one believed you.” Where there is a will, there is a way to space. But it would not be an easy one. Beyond the idealistic beauty and mystical draw, space is relentlessly unforgiving. There is no pulling off to the shoulder and calling roadside assistance. There is no limping back to the airfield on just one of four remaining engines. Even the most

careful planning cannot completely remove the cold grip of space, as in figure 2.2, where the damaged Apollo 13 service module is shown after the crew narrowly escaped catastrophe during an aborted Moon landing.

Is the price worth it? Each and every day people face risk in their homes and once they step outside. It is familiar risk, though. But it doesn’t mean this risk goes away just because people become accustomed to it.

“You cannot have great breakthroughs without risk,” insisted Diamandis. “By definition, something that is a true breakthrough, the day before it’s a breakthrough, it’s a crazy idea. If it is not a crazy idea, then it is not a breakthrough. It’s a small, incremental improve­ment. Computing with silicon instead of vacuum tubes was a crazy idea. So, how do you embrace allowing people to try their crazy ideas?

“How do you allow people to take those risks, people who want to take the risks and not regulate against it? I think space is a very risky business still, and that’s okay. I had publicly said that during the course of the X Prize, people may lose there lives. But they are doing it for something they deeply believe in.”

Like many people, Peter Diamandis’ fascination with space began back when he was a child. But unlike many people, he has not stood idly by waiting for the stars to come to him. His obsession with the point where gravity loses its touch, and the places beyond, firmly took root while he was an aerospace engineering student at Massachusetts Institute of Technology. He had the chance to meet astronauts-in-training back then, but this forced the realization that his chances of becoming an astronaut himself were remote and that even if he did make it as one, he would fly to space maybe twice in a decade. Figure 2.4 shows Diamandis as SpaceShipOne made its way to space on October 4, 2004.

The government space programs do work well in specific ways, but very few people will ever get the chance to go up. “That wasn’t my vision of spaceflight,” Diamandis said. “I wanted to go as a private pioneer in my own ship whenever I wanted to go.”

Dennis Tito spent $20 million to fly to the International Space Station (ISS) aboard a Russian Soyuz in 2001, becoming the first

B. IL Aerospace Technologies D. ARCA

F. Suborbital Corporation

Fig. 2.3. The competitors pursued many different approaches, although not every one managed to launch hardware. Concepts were either ground-launched or air-launched, and while most were rockets, many were space planes, with the exception of one flying saucer that would ride upon "blastwave" pulsejets. The air – launched vehicles were either carried or towed by an aircraft or lifted by a giant balloon. The methods of reentry were just as varied. X PRIZE Foundation

Fig. 2.5. Atlantis, Discovery, and Endeavor are the remaining three operational Space Shuttles. First launched on April 12, 1981, exactly twenty years after Cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin’s first-ever spaceflight, the Space Shuttle had been the only U. S. vehicle to carry people into space for twenty-three years prior to the spaceflights of SpaceShipOne. Six Space Shuttles were built, although the first Space Shuttle, Enterprise, never reached space. In 1986, Challenger exploded during liftoff, and in 2003, Columbia broke apart during reentry. Dan Linehan

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Fig. 2.4. Peter Diamandis, the founder of the X Prize Foundation, gives the thumbs up as SpaceShipOne makes its way up to space during the second Ansari X Prize flight.

After reading The Spirit of St Louis by Charles Lindbergh, Diamandis was inspired to create a space prize modeled after the early aviation prizes.

Dan Linehan

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Fig. 2.6. Thousands and thousands of space enthusiasts crowded into the high desert of Southern California to watch the spaceflights of SpaceShipOne as Mojave Airport transformed into a spaceport. Mojave Aerospace Ventures LLC, photograph by David M. Moore

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paying space tourist. Diamandis has reported that the cost to fly the Space Shuttle, shown in figure 2.5 preparing to launch to the ISS, has ranged from $500 million to $750 million for just one flight, of which propellants make up only 1 percent of that cost. These figures keep the gate to the space frontier shut pretty tight for most people. There just had to be another way.

While flying together over the Hudson River in 1994, Gregg Maryniak, a longtime friend and business partner, wondered when Diamandis would also get his pilot’s license. Diamandis had already stopped and started several times. This was unusual, considering Diamandis’ deep desire for space. One might expect that for someone with dreams of traveling among the stars, a pilot’s license was a good thing to have. But as history continues to remind us, the shortest distance between point A and point В is not necessarily a straight line. Diamandis was far too consumed with what was well beyond where the air is thin.

“Gregg asked me if I had ever read The Spirit of St. Louis,” Diamandis said. Maryniak had explained that he received the book as a gift, and it helped motivate him to finish his pilot’s license. Shortly after their flight, Maryniak gave a copy of The Spirit of St. Louis to Diamandis. But if anything, the book proved to sidetrack Diamandis, resulting in the unanticipated consequence of drastically changing not only how people reach space but also who gets to go.

“As I read that book, I had no idea that Lindbergh crossed the Atlantic to win a prize and that nine different teams had spent $400,000 to win the $25,000 prize,” Diamandis said. “And by the time I finished reading the book, the whole idea of the X Prize had come to mind.”

What Diamandis realized was that a prize could be the catalyst needed for the development of a new breed of spacecraft that could demonstrate the public’s desire for commercial spaceflight. “We needed a paradigm shift,” Diamandis said. “People had become so stuck in their way of thinking that spaceflight was only for the government—only largest corporations and governments could do this—it could never be done by an individual. This thinking was paralyzing us, and that was what I was trying to change.”

When Lindbergh made his famous crossing, the airplane had been in existence for a little more than two decades. It was still a novelty. Some enterprising individuals foresaw the economic advantages of aviation, while others stoked the fanfare and fervor. As a result, hundreds of aviation competitions were established to see who could fly the farthest, the fastest, the highest. It was as much about pushing the limits as it was about drawing boundaries where none had ever existed.

At a time when aviation was in its infancy, prizes and competi­tions put its growth on afterburners. And during these times, people could look in the mirror and see themselves in the cockpit, goggles drawn and wrapped in a scarf, without having to use too much imagination. Although some of the flyers were wealthy and privi­leged and others had renown and notoriety, Charles Lindbergh, an airmail pilot, and others like him, proved aviation was in reach of the common person.

Diamandis saw this vision, only with rocket ships and space helmets. His passion was contagious. He energized many talented and dedicated people who joined this march toward space, contributing thousands and thousands of volunteer hours along the way. Figure 2.6 shows the crowds who gathered to share in this vision.

In 1919, Raymond Orteig created the Orteig Prize for the first non­stop flight across the Atlantic Ocean from New York to Paris or from Paris to New York. Orteig, born in France, owned hotels in New York City. Prizes had been enticing aviators and aircraft makers for a decade now. Newspapers sponsored them because it gave their readers something exciting to read. Businesses sponsored them because they saw financial opportunity.

Aviation technology was not up to the challenge, and Orteig had to extend the deadline of the prize. Come 1926, still no one had claimed the prize. Only one team made an attempt, but they crashed on takeoff.

On May 20, 1927, with only 20 feet (6 meters) to spare, the Ryan NYP Spirit of St. Louis cleared the telephone wires a short distance from the edge of the runway at Roosevelt Field on Long Island. Charles Lindbergh, shown in figure 2.7, had just lifted off for his first solo attempt at crossing the Atlantic Ocean. Several failed attempts had already been made by other competitors by now. Nine teams were in the race to win the $25,000 Orteig Prize. Four men had died trying, and two others, setting out together right before Lindbergh, were lost over the Atlantic.

To make the journey, Lindbergh would have to strip the plane down to the bare minimum to maximize the amount of fuel he could carry. Table 2.1 shows the specifications of the Spirit of St. Louis. So much of the aircraft was gas tank, by design, that Lindbergh had to use a periscope to see directly ahead of the aircraft because a gas tank in front

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Table 2.1 Spirit of St. Louis Specifications

Ryan Airlines Company highly modified M-2 46 feet (14 meters)

27 feet 8 inches (8 meters)

9 feet 10 inches (3 meters) 2,150 pounds (975 kilograms) 5,135 pounds (2,330 kilograms) Wright Whirlwind J-5C 223 horsepower

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Fig. 2.8. The Spirit of St. Louis was specially designed by Charles Lindbergh to make the transoceanic flight. Much of the aircraft was a fuel tank, leaving little room for anything else. Lindbergh had to use a periscope to see in front of the airplane, and he elected not to bring a parachute or radio, to save weight. NASA-Langley Research Center

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of the cockpit blocked the view forward. In a plane that weighed 2,150 pounds (975 kilograms) empty, it carried 451 gallons (1,710 liters) of fuel for a total takeoff weight of 5,135 pounds (2,330 kilograms).

Back in 1927, if you went down in the water, you were gone. There was no satellite tracking, there were no helicopters or airplanes that you could signal. There was no radar. And shipping was nothing like it is today, so rescue from a nearby vessel was highly unlikely. When Lindbergh got behind the controls of that plane and took off, he was all alone with only the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean more than willing to catch him if he fell. And there was less than just a slim chance of him not making it back.

So, the Spirit of St. Louis, shown in figure 2.8, didn’t have a radio, navigational lights, or gas gauges. Lindbergh didn’t even bring a parachute. A radio didn’t do any good over the middle of the ocean and, back in those days, was a lot of weight. The same held true for the navigational lights when the wiring was also factored in. Even gas gauges were redundant, since there would not be much he could do about it if the tanks went dry. But the reverse argument could be made. Each of these could help his chance of survival under some specific circumstances. What if a ship was nearby? Lights and a radio could certainly help. What if he was over land? He should be able to make an emergency landing, but there were circumstances where
bailing out was not out of the question. Lindbergh had to balance the potential benefit of each safety item with the problems he would potentially face if he ran out of fuel. And that’s how he decided.

“He was thinking his way all the way around the problem, though,” said Erik Lindbergh, the grandson of Charles Lindbergh. “I think he minimized every possible risk he could except for lack of sleep. And if he had had a good seven hours worth of sleep, he would have really changed his risk factor.”

Lindbergh didn’t even use a typical leather pilot’s seat. Instead, he used a wicker chair. He did, however, equip himself with four sandwiches, two canteens of water, and an inflatable, rubber life raft.

Lindbergh believed that for a multi engine aircraft, there was only a greater risk of an engine failure, even though most of the other competitors were using that type of aircraft. Today, a Boeing 767 flies overseas with only two engines. If one fails, it still has enough power to reach land by either turning around or by continuing on, whichever distance is shorter. That wasn’t necessarily the case for the multi – engine aircraft of that time.

“He was doing things like cutting the corners off of his map, which is really a negligible weight,” said Erik Lindbergh. “And yet when you look at the competitors, some of them had champagne and croissants on board so they could party when they got there. But they never made if off the ground. So, attention to detail and reducing the risk factors was critical to him surviving the flight.”

Charles Lindbergh became an instant international hero on the evening his wheels touched down in Paris. And people’s interest in aviation exploded. Charles Lindbergh said, “I was astonished at the effect my successful landing in France had on the nations of the world. To me, it was like a match lighting a bonfire.”

Erik Lindbergh said of his grandfather’s accomplishment, “Before he flew across the Atlantic, people who flew in airplanes were known as barnstormers and daredevils and flying fools. And after he flew across the Atlantic, people who flew in airplanes were known as pilots and passengers. It truly was a paradigm shift if there ever was one.”

As a result of this new popularity, referred to as the Lindbergh boom, in the United States the number of applications for a pilot’s license tripled and the number of licensed aircraft quadrupled during 1927. The number of passengers flying aboard U. S. airlines also dramatically increased from 5,782 in 1926 to 173,405 in 1929. Nowadays, the aviation transportation sector is a $300 billion industry.

Now that the idea was hatched, what to name it?

“The letter X initially stood for the variable for the person’s name that funded the prize, just like the Orteig Prize,” Diamandis said. “It worked because $10 million was the number I thought was the right number. I wanted it to be enough money to be of substantial importance to the world, but not so big that it would attract the Lockheeds or Boeings. I didn’t want the winner to be a traditional player. I wanted it to be somebody who was going to really work hard on how to do this thing cost effectively and worry about every penny spent.”

Finding a title sponsor to put up the prize money proved very difficult, so the X hung around for a lot longer than Diamandis had anticipated. But when the title sponsor did come along, the Xhad already become symbolic. X stood for the Roman numeral ten, as in

A N S A R I

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Fig. 2.9. Initially, the X in the X Prize was only a place holder to be replaced when Peter Diamandis found a title sponsor. But gradually it took on its own significance. X stood for $10 million, X had been used for the early X-planes, and X meant mysterious or extreme. So, when a title sponsor did come along, the X remained. X PRIZE Foundation

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the number of millions in the prize. X denoted a vehicle of an exper­imental nature, as with the X-planes. X also had the connotation of being extreme or mysterious. “So, after we found the Ansaris,” Diamandis said, “we decided to keep it and make it the Ansari X Prize.” The logo is shown in figure 2.9.

When Burt Rutan rolled out SpaceShipOne in April of 2003, he complimented Diamandis, saying that the Ansari X Prize rules had stood the test of time and that it was the brilliant set of rules that allowed the competition to proceed.

After coming up with the concept of the Ansari X Prize in 1994, it took better than a year and a half to nail down the rules. Diamandis stated that the rules were 80 percent of battle. Making them simple, understandable, and bulletproof was an imperative. The rules had to define a precise goal that was very difficult to reach but not com­pletely unattainable. The rules in brief are given in table 2.2.

“I consulted with many of the people who would become teams later on. I reached out to many of the entrepreneurial players in the space community to get their input,” Diamandis said.

Table 2.2 Anasari X Prize Rules in Brief

The spacecraft must:

[1] reach a suborbital altitude of 100 kilometers (62.1 miles or 328,000 feet)

[2] carry three people (or one pilot plus the equivalent weight of two other people)

[3] repeat the same flight within two weeks

[4] be designed, built, and launched using only private funding

[5] return safely to Earth with crew unharmed

Initially, the rules were drafted to require the spacecraft to reach an altitude of 100 miles (160 kilometers). By comparison, Sputnik orbited above Earth at a maximum height of 588 miles (947 kilometers), while the International Space Station typically orbits a little more than 200 miles (320 kilometers) up. But when the reentry characteristics of a spacecraft returning to Earth from 100 miles (160 kilometers) up were analyzed, the heating was determined to be too high. The expense and time to develop an engineering solution for this would have been cost prohibitive to many—if not all—of the teams. An altitude of 100 kilometers (62.1 miles or 328,000 feet) was then selected.

This number was not exactly easy to reach, though. “There was a big debate about what was officially space,” Diamandis said. “The U. S. Air Force viewed it at 50 miles [80.5 kilometers], and the Europeans looked at it as 100 kilometers [62.1 miles]. We didn’t want the X Prize to be in contention, so we moved it to the higher of the two.” In order for a contestant to claim the Ansari X Prize, it was neces­sary to verify the altitude that was reached. So, each spacecraft would have to carry a flight recorder, also known as the gold box, provided by the X Prize Foundation to monitor the flight profile. Figure 2.10 illustrates the altitude requirement of the Ansari X Prize.

The next rule to decide was how many people the spacecraft would have to carry. “I didn’t want the vehicle to be considered a stunt,” explained Diamandis. “I wanted the vehicle winning the X Prize to potently go into revenue service. So, we basically focused on having a vehicle that could fly with a pilot and two paying passengers and required that the vehicle have three seats.”

However, three people were not actually required to occupy the spacecraft during the attempts to reach space. The rules state: “The flight vehicle must be built with the capacity (weight and volume) to carry a minimum of three adults of height 6 feet 2 inches (188 centimeters) and weight 198 pounds (90 kilograms) each.”

So, right before a launch attempt, three people had to strap into the spacecraft while it was on the ground in order to show that they fit. For each passenger not remaining onboard for the launch, 198 pounds (90 kilograms) of ballast would be added as a replacement.

“And the key rule, which was probably most important, was that the vehicle had to do two flights within two weeks,” Diamandis said. “What that meant was that the cost of the second flight was really touch labor and fuel.”

This rule was crucial in demonstrating the robustness of the design because it required that 90 percent of the spacecraft’s mass, excluding propellant mass, had to be original and could not be

and International Space Station. It is called suborbital because the altitude is not sufficient for a spacecraft to achieve orbit. X PRIZE Foundation

к___________________ J replaced. The spacecraft had to return substantially intact. If after the first flight major components were damaged to the point where they could not be used again, or if too many materials had to be swapped out, then this rule would filter out those designs that were not durable or reusable.

“My mission in the X Prize was to bring about a new generation of privately owned and privately operated spacecraft that can service a marketplace,” Diamandis said. Many people, including Diamandis, viewed the space industry, in terms of human spaceflight, as stagnant. The two primary types of vehicles used to escape the confines of gravity remained for decades the Russian Soyuz and the U. S. Space Shuttle, which first flew in 1967 and 1981, respectively. There is a better chance of a person winning the lottery than flying aboard one of these spaceships. And even in the case of a lucky golden ticket, this would not necessarily secure a seat. Since government space agencies operate these vehicles, they have little interest in extending opportunities to the public at large.

This shortcoming of government space agencies was specifically what Diamandis wanted to challenge by requiring that the Ansari X Prize be privately funded. To that end, the following rule was put into place:

Flight vehicles will have to be privately financed and built. Entrants will be precluded from using a launch vehicle substantially developed under a government contract or grant. Entrants will be prohibited from receiving any direct funding, subsi­dies, and grants of money, goods, or services from any government (or otherwise tax-supported entity). Entrants will be permitted to utilize government facilities if access to such facilities is generally available to all entrants. Any such goods or services used in connection with the competition must be available to other entrants on similar terms.

Entrants will be permitted to utilize subsystems previously developed by a government agency that are currently available on a commercial or equal – access government-surplus basis, or for which manufacturing rights and specifications are available on an equal-access basis.

The competition was not without risk to its participants. However, since the whole idea of the Ansari X Prize was to promote public space travel, one of the more obvious rules was that the crew had to return to Earth safe and sound after each attempt.

Early on, as the X Prize Foundation started to pull together, Diamandis and Bryon K. Lichtenberg, who was one of the cofounders of the organization, met with Erik Lindbergh. Lichtenberg, a two- time shuttle astronaut, was one of the very first people Diamandis spoke to about the X Prize idea and was his partner in Zero Gravity Corporation.

Diamandis had felt it important to have a connection with the Lindbergh family. But the Lindbergh Foundation wasn’t initially interested because its focus was on supporting projects that empha­sized the balance between technology and a healthy planet. “I think people have sort of lost that dream of space travel after Apollo faded and space flight became routine and boring,” said Lindbergh.

But it was hard for Lindbergh’s passion not to be stirred up by the ideas of Diamandis. “What really got me was the fact that this could ignite that kind of inspiration again,” said Lindbergh. “And there is a tremendous amount of knowledge that we need for space travel that will translate directly into the quality of life here on Earth, such as environmental technology and closed-loop living systems.”

Lichtenberg talked about the view from space aboard Columbia in 1983, where he was the very first Space Shuttle payload specialist, and of his time on Atlantis nine years later. Lindbergh remembered reading about Frank White and his overview perspective of Earth from space, as well as Jim Lovell being able to cover up Earth with his thumb as he looked out the window of his space capsule.

“These astronauts had an overview perspective that could be tremendously valuable in terms of how we navigate the present so that we can thrive and survive into the future,” said Lindbergh. He participated in the unveiling of the X Prize under the St. Louis Arch in 1996, but he would soon be drawn in much deeper.

This was all a lot of careful planning, but $ 10 million of prize money does not just materialize out of thin air. This figure does not even include all the expenses needed to run the competition. All totaled, it was a lot of spacebucks. The early conceptual drawing in figure 2.11 gives an indication of the broad, forward thinking of the ambitious X Prize.

In 1995, Diamandis established the X Prize Foundation in Rockville, Maryland, with the help of Maryniak, Lichtenberg, and Colette M. Bevis. That same year Diamandis met Doug King, the president of the St. Louis Science Center, who offered to help raise $2.5 million if the X Prize Foundation would relocate there. St. Louis embraced Diamandis, and with its aviation heritage, the decision to move was an easy one.

During a fundraiser in St. Louis, a local businessman named Alfred Kerth reminded Diamandis that Charles Lindbergh created the Spirit of St. Louis Organization. This organization was a group of ten business leaders who contributed a total of $25,000 to purchase the aircraft used by Lindbergh to cross the Atlantic Ocean. “And Spirit of St. Louis—the airplane—was named after that organization,” Diamandis said. “So Kerth said, ‘Let’s get one hundred people to contribute $25,000 or more from the St. Louis region and call them the New Spirit of St. Louis Organization. It will be the funding mechanism to kick this whole thing off.’ ”

On May 18, 1996, three days before the anniversary of Lindbergh’s historic flight, under the St. Louis Arch, the X Prize was announced. Guests of the ceremony included twenty astronauts; Dan Golden, the administrator of NASA at the time; the Lindbergh family; and Burt Rutan, who on that day made his interest clear. The race was on, and teams had until January 1, 2005, to claim the X Prize.

By 2001, the X Prize was still not fully funded. Bob Weiss, movie producer and vice-chairman of the X Prize Foundation, proposed the idea of a hole-in-one insurance policy to Diamandisrize. With a hole-in-one insurance policy, an insurance company essentially bets against an event happening. This is not uncommon in golf tournaments, where a player can win a car or a great deal of money if he or she makes a hole-in-one on a specific hole on the golf course. If no player makes a hole-in-one, then the insurance company keeps the insurance premiums paid by the tournament organizers and pays nothing out. However, if a player does make a hole-in-one, then the insurance company pays the check.

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Fig. 2.11. The vision of Peter Diamandis and the X Prize Foundation was to rekindle the public’s interest in space and foster the development of private spacecraft that would open the door to the stars for more than just the very limited number of astronauts from government-sponsored programs. X PRIZE Foundation

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The X Prize Foundation moved ahead with the insurance idea, but premiums were not inexpensive. “I would have to pay out $50,000 every other month sometimes and a large balloon payment at the end,” Diamandis said. “And there were times that I would literally have a week in which to raise $50,000 or I would lose all the premiums I had paid earlier.”

After being in existence for six years, the X Prize was much more fragile than most people knew. It was very difficult to raise money to support the day-to-day operations, let alone funding the $10 million prize money.

During the height of Erik Lindbergh’s involvement, he had become the vice president of the X Prize Foundation. In 2002, he retraced his grandfather’s famous flight on the 75th anniversary of the historic crossing of the Atlantic Ocean by the Spirit of St. Louis. Flying a modern Lancair Columbia 300, named the New Spirit of St. Louis, Eric Lindbergh flew the same flight path but did so in a little more comfort and safety. He could actually see out the front windshield and did not require the use of a periscope. He averaged 184 miles per hour (296 kilometers per hour), and the flight lasted 19.5 hours com­pared to 108 miles per hour (174 kilometers per hour) and 33.5 hours for his grandfather’s transatlantic flight.

“When I decided to fly across the Atlantic in the Columbia, I did it really to support X Prize,” Erik Lindbergh said. “That was the main thrust of it. That was one of many efforts by individual directors that saved X Prize at a specific period in its history.”

Almost one million dollars was raised, with a majority going to the X Prize. But that wasn’t enough to keep it from ditching before reaching the final destination.

Anousheh Ansari

Anousheh Ansari’s fascination with space and the stars began when she was a little girl living in her native country of Iran. At sixteen, she and her family immigrated to the United States. Ansari, shown in figure 2.12, did not speak English, but education was extremely important to her family. She would pick up the language, a bachelor’s in electronics and computer engineering, and a master’s in electrical engineering on the way to co-founding Telecom Technologies, a multi – million-dollar telecommunications company.

In all this time, her desire for spaceflight never wavered. “Because I didn’t become a professional astronaut, I have been looking for other ways,” Ansari said. “So, even before meeting Peter Diamandis, I did a lot of looking around on the Web and other places, trying to see what was happening with the space program and if there would be an opportunity for civilians to fly. I had visited the X Prize website and a couple of other websites where they were advertising for tickets for suborbital flights. I did a little bit more research and found out they were basically just doing a lot of conceptual design of these suborbital vehicles to compete in the X Prize. I believed that it would happen soon enough, and probably my first experience or first chance would be on suborbital flight.”

In 2001, Fortune magazine ran an article about the forty wealthiest people under the age of forty. Ansari made number thirty-three on the list, ahead of Jim Carrey at number thirty-six and Tiger Woods at number forty. But in a sidepiece, Ansari made it clear to the world that space was her number-one goal. There, Ansari had expressed “her desire to board a civilian-carrying, suborbital shuttle.”

“I read that like three times,” Diamandis said. “So, I convinced myself that it really said suborbital flight.”

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Fig. 2.12. Captivated by space from her childhood days, Anousheh Ansari never stopped believing that some day she would make it to space. In 2004, the Ansari family was officially named the title sponsor of the X Prize. Two years later, Anousheh Ansari’s dream came true. Prodea Systems, Inc.

All rights reserved. Used under permission of Prodea Systems, Inc.

V_____________________________________ )

Diamandis and Lichtenberg immediately contacted Ansari to arrange a meeting. “From the first moment we sat across the table and started to talk about it, Peter had us sold,” Anousheh Ansari said, speaking of her and her bother-in-law, Amir Ansari, who had shared the same excitement about space.

Ansari began backing the X Prize in 2002. However, it wasn’t until May 2004 that the Ansari family was announced as the title sponsor. “Our sponsorship was absolutely needed for X Prize to succeed,” she noted. “At the time we joined the organization, if we had decided not to, I don’t know if they would have survived. We felt that we couldn’t let that happen. This was too valuable. It was difficult to put together such a good group of people again. The momentum was right. We couldn’t just let it go. And at the same time, the reason we did it was because we love flying to space. And it wasn’t like I want to do it just once, and we knew there were millions of people around the world that felt the same way. We wanted to do something to help build an industry so this would become something that would be available, and you can do it again and again and again.”

Just as the X Prize Foundation faced challenges to keep the prize going, the individual teams faced similar problems. The biggest of these was funding. It wasn’t so much of a technology challenge that the teams had to overcome—the technology to get into space had been around for a long time. The teams were not starting from square one. In fact, with modern materials and computers, a technical leap wouldn’t likely be the limiting factor.

Rutan and his team certainly seemed to be in a very good position. “Some viewed him as the frontrunner,” Diamandis recalled. “Lessons of history are that sometimes the frontrunner doesn’t win. In the Orteig Prize for example, the frontrunner was Admiral Byrd, the first person to fly to the North Pole. He crashed on liftoff. This young upstart, unknown to the rest of the world, Charles Lindbergh, comes along and wins the competition.”

A total of twenty-six teams registered for the Ansari X Prize, representing seven different countries, but not every team that applied made it in. “We probably turned away about half the appli­cations we received,” explained Diamandis. “We required the teams to really demonstrate to us the seriousness of their team and effort. They had to demonstrate by virtue of the people who were involved, the companies who were involved, and they had to show us the primary concept.

“We had numerous teams apply with antigravity and UFO tech­nology. My answer was simple: ‘My office is on the second floor. If you can float up to the second floor, I’m happy to register you.’ ”

Some of the teams that competed did get vehicles into the air and performed flight tests to various degrees, while some hadn’t had the resources necessary to get their programs very far off the ground. Two of the top contenders were Steve Bennett’s Starchaser out of England and Brian Feeney’s da Vinci Project out of Canada, refer to figure 2.13 and figure 2.14, respectively.

“Steve Bennett was the first person to fly an X Prize vehicle, or a vehicle with X Prize logos on it, called Nova, which was the first launch in like thirty years out of the UK,” Diamandis said.

Launched on November 22, 2001, Nova weighed in at 1,643 pounds (747 kilograms). It was unmanned, but the capsule was designed to fit one person. Starchaser had actually developed and launched rockets beginning in 1993, well before the Ansari X Prize was announced, so it was one of the more established teams.

“I didn’t want to apply for the X Prize competition and come across as someone who was ill equipped to deal with it,” said Steve Bennett, the team leader of Starchaser. “It took me about a year to get all my ducks in a row. And we made the application, and Peter accepted it no problem.”

A bigger vehicle was still needed, since the Ansari X Prize required it to fit three people. “We went through a number of ideas and over the years the design evolved,” continued Bennett. “And what happened was it just got simpler and simpler and simpler. So, we

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Fig. 2.13. Having launched over sixteen large rockets since 1993, Starchaser was one of the more experienced teams competing for the Ansari X Prize. Even after the Ansari X Prize, Starchaser rocket development continues.

In 2007, Starchaser won a study contract from the European Space Agency (ESA) to further investigate reusable launch vehicles for space tourism. Courtesy of Starchaser Industries

V_________________ )

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Fig. 2.14. To avoid the high cost of developing a ground-launched rocket

or a carrier aircraft, Brian Feeney’s da Vinci Project built the world’s largest balloon, capable of holding 3.70 million cubic feet (0.10 million cubic meters) of helium, to lift its Wild Fire rocket to a launch altitude of 70,000 feet (21,340 meters). Brian Feeney, the da Vinci Project

V___________________ J ended up with a very simple ballistic rocket. We discovered that the easiest and simplest and safest way to do this would be to just launch a ballistic rocket just like they launched Alan Shepard in back in ’61. Straight up, straight down, and a capsule that can carry three people. And that’s pretty much it.”

The rocket had three main components: a booster, which was the Starchaser 5 rocket powered by liquid oxygen (LOX) and kerosene fuel engines; the capsule, which was called Thunderstar; and the launch escape system.

Figure 2.15 shows Bennett standing next to the Nova 2 after piloted drop tests from 10,000 feet (3,050 meters) were conducted.

Bennett admitted, “The biggest challenge was, I guess, raising the finances, because the technology to do this kind of thing has been around since the 1950s, possibly even the 1940s.”

So, the team had to be creative. Back in 2000, they had pre-sold two of the seats for when they would first attempt the Ansari X Prize.

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Fig. 2.15. Steve Bennett stands next to Nova 2, which was drop tested from an altitude over 10,000 feet (3,048 meters) to test the parachute-recovery system. For each test, a pilot manned the capsule, which was then dropped out the back of a cargo plane. Courtesy of Starch a ser Industries

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Bennett said of the two prospective passengers, “They wanted to basically support the project. And they wanted to fly on the first flight. We got three seats in the capsule. The only condition they made was, ‘Here’s the money, Steve. We’ll give you the money. We’ll give it to you up front, and we’re not even going to come back to you. We don’t care whether it takes a year or ten years. You tell us when it’s ready. We’re not going to hassle you. There is only one condition.’ And the one condition was the third seat had to be occupied by me. Okay. So, they knew I wasn’t a nutcase. They knew that I wanted to do this project and that I wanted to come home to my family.”

The competition really began to heat up midway through 2004, when two teams each secretly notified the X Prize Foundation that they were going for it. Diamantis recalled, “People have to give both confidential notice within 120 days and public notice within 60 days of their attempt to fly. So, we had gotten confidential notice of Rutan’s flight date, and then a few weeks later we got confidential notice from Brian Feeney that the da Vinci Project was going to attempt a flight.

“We thought for a moment we might have to mount flight com­petitions in two separate nations, and funding that and doing a good job of judging was going to be a challenge for us.”

Feeney, who had an aerospace company in the 1980’s that did life – support systems, read an article about the announcement of the Ansar і X Prize while living in Hong Kong. “That was the catalyst for me,” he said. “I stopped what I was doing right away at the time.” Feeney had constantly looked for opportunities that would take him to space. He rallied one of the largest volunteer efforts for a technology project in Canadian history while using a very unconven­tional approach to reach space. At first he looked into developing a carrier aircraft like Scaled Composites had done. “We wanted to do that even before we knew what they were doing. But the cost to do that was just prohibitive. We knew we’d be challenged just to get the money to build the spaceship itself,” Feeney said.

“A ground-launched vehicle required about four times as much energy, thrust, everything else, compared to an air-launched vehicle, whether it was balloon, as in our case, or an aircraft or whatever

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Fig. 2.16. Teams had to give a 120-day confidential notice to the X Prize Foundation that they were going to make an attempt at the Ansari X Prize. As the deadline loomed, Scaled Composites gave its secret notification, and a few weeks later, the da Vinci Project also gave notice. The da Vinci Project finally got a big chunk of funding from GoldenPalace. com, but it proved to be too late in the game. Brian Feeney, the da Vinci Project

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means of getting to that altitude. At the end of the day, I thought the balloon-launch system was a good compromise with the much higher cost of developing a ground-based launch rocket.”

A rocket called Wild Fire, pointing up at 75 degrees, would be tethered to the world’s largest reusable helium balloon. Made of polyethylene, the balloon, measuring in at 150 feet (46 meters) in diameter and 200 feet (61 meters) in length, could contain 3.70 million cubic feet (0.10 million cubic meters) of helium. It would only be 15 percent full at liftoff but would expand as it ascended. The da Vinci Project had successfully tested a scaled-down version of their launch balloon before constructing the final launch balloon.

Figure 2.16 shows the Wild Fire rocket at only 80 percent complete. At an altitude of 70,000 feet (21,340 meters), which is higher than any launch aircraft could fly, Wild Fire would detach and use a hybrid fuel rocket engine to soar into space.

“I never felt in the long run that it was an ideal commercial propo­sition, because the balloon is subject to weather and a multiplicity of things. But it is a cost-effective way for a short program to demon­strate viable technology,” Feeney said.