The Five-Billion-Star Hotel

[Mark Reiff <markreiff@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

FYI,

"The Five-Billion-Star Hotel - Need to 
get away from it all? Popular
Science presents an exclusive tour of 
CSS Skywalker, an orbital
resort that’s a lot closer to reality 
than you might think"
Popular Science
http://www.popsci.com/popsci/aviation/article/0,20967,1027551,00.html

: For his next hotel enterprise, Bigelow 
is looking beyond the bright
: lights of Las Vegas—beyond Earth’s 
atmosphere, in fact. He is
: actively engaged in an effort to build 
the planet’s first orbiting
: space hotel. Bargain-basement room 
rate: $1 million a night. For
: its water show, this hotel will have 
all of Earth’s blue oceans
: flying past its windows at 17,500 
miles an hour. Guests on board
: the 330-cubic-meter station (about the 
size of a three-bedroom
: house) will learn weightless 
acrobatics, marvel at the ever-
: changing face of the home planet, and, 
for half of every 90-minute
: orbit, gaze deep into a galaxy ablaze 
with stars.

: The public has seen this vision for 
decades—another hopeless
: dreamer’s space fantasy. But here 
there’s a difference: Bigelow is
: betting $500 million of his personal 
fortune that he can make it
: come true. He has hired veteran 
space-travel engineers to perfect
: the technology, he has produced nearly 
launch-ready hardware for
: testing, and he’s floating a 
$50-million prize to entice other
: companies to create a safe, reliable 
orbital space vehicle to
: transport guests to the front door—or 
rather, the airlock. Even
: five years ago, this plot would have 
seemed utterly implausible.
: But with Burt Rutan’s recent Ansari X 
Prize triumph—his company,
: Scaled Composites, won a $10-million 
competition for the
: successful, repeated launch of a 
manned suborbital space vehicle
: — and the subsequent creation of 
Virgin Galactic to capitalize on
: Rutan’s technology for tourist 
spaceflights, Bigelow’s project
: provides an intriguing new twist in 
the development of a commercial
: spaceflight industry.

: He shepherds visitors through his 
50-acre, three-building,
: 56-employee R&D facility, Bigelow 
Aerospace, on the outskirts of
: Las Vegas with the quiet confidence of 
a man who knows exactly what
: he is doing. “It’s a gamble,” he says 
of his project, the world’s
: first private space station. “It’s a 
huge gamble.” He smiles
: faintly as he says it, as though he 
enjoys the sheer outrageousness
: of his own project.

: Bigelow was just 15 years old when he 
vowed to devote his life to
: helping establish a permanent human 
presence in space. It would
: take money, he knew—lots of it. And so 
he began to build a very
: practical foundation for his fantastic 
idea: He followed his father
: into real estate, studying that and 
banking at Arizona State
: University. After graduating in 1967, 
he launched his career first
: as a broker, and soon began buying 
small rental properties. His
: first construction project, in 1970, 
was a 40-unit apartment house.
: Throughout the 1970s and ’80s he built 
dozens of apartment
: buildings and motels in and around Las 
Vegas, and in 1988 he
: founded Budget Suites of America.

: The ideal moment arrived in 1999 when 
Bigelow, now sitting on a
: fortune, got wind of a NASA program 
for a radical new space
: station.

: Bigelow — who generally shuns media 
attention and rarely grants
: interviews — kept his spacefaring 
efforts largely under wraps for
: five years after founding Bigelow 
Aerospace. But he began showing
: his work last fall, after announcing 
his $50-million orbital-
: vehicle prize amid the positive press 
surrounding Rutan’s
: SpaceShipOne. The top-secret, Skunk 
Works–style aura persists, and
: visitors are only slowly being 
admitted to Building B, the
: semipublic face of Bigelow Aerospace. 
Built last year, the
: windowless, 80,000-square-foot 
facility houses full-scale mock-ups
: of Bigelow’s baby: the Nautilus 
space-station module. Two
: 45-foot-long, 22-foot-diameter 
modules, brilliant white and draped
: with the American flag, loom out of 
the darkness at the back of the
: building. A stairway invites visitors 
to climb on board to see for
: themselves what it might be like to 
live in the biggest space-
: station modules ever built. Their 
large volume is the result of an
: unusual design feature—they are 
inflatable.

: Developed at NASA as part of a project 
called TransHab, inflatable
: space-station modules have some 
important advantages over their tin-
: can counterparts. They weigh 
significantly less, and they launch in
: a compressed state, with their fabric 
hulls wrapped tightly around
: their rigid cores like a roll of paper 
towels. This allows them to
: use less-powerful launch vehicles and 
makes for roomier space
: stations. After a rocket fires a 
Nautilus into space, explosive
: bolts will release the girdle securing 
the compressed hull, and
: then the station’s life support 
system, housed in the core, will
: inflate the structure with breathable 
air, expanding it from
: 15 feet in diameter to 22 feet. Power 
comes from solar panels that
: unfold from the rigid bulkheads at 
each end of the module. Each
: bulkhead also houses an airlock and a 
docking adaptor. Astronauts
: arriving later enter a shirtsleeve 
environment in which they can go
: to work unpacking removable panels, 
equipment and supplies from the
: core to create three levels of living 
and working space. A docked
: rocket engine called a 
multi-directional propulsion bus (MDPB) will
: eventually allow the station—the first 
one is tentatively called
: CSS [Commercial Space Station] 
Skywalker—to maneuver within Earth’s
: orbit or even leave it, for, say, a 
trip to the moon.

: This basic architecture was created by 
NASA senior engineer William
: Schneider, in an effort that began in 
1997. The design won numerous
: converts at NASA, with then- 
administrator Daniel Goldin calling it
: a major breakthrough. For a while, it 
was seriously considered as
: an alternative to the International 
Space Station (ISS) Habitation
: Module under development at the time 
by Boeing. But TransHab was
: cancelled without explanation in 2000, 
before it could produce
: flight-ready hardware. Its demise is 
an example of what Bigelow
: sees as NASA’s monumental 
inefficiency. Here was a perfectly good
: program to develop a technology that 
was less expensive and tougher
: than conventional designs, but, as far 
as Bigelow could tell, it
: got axed for purely political reasons.

: Bigelow thinks he can do better with a 
traditional business model.
: “I’ve put together many, many projects 
involving a lot of money and
: a lot of people,” he says, and unlike 
NASA, “I’m used to doing
: things pretty darn well on budget and 
pretty darn well on time.”
: Although he’s circumspect about just 
how he will spend his
: $500-million commitment, it is clear 
that he budgets carefully. His
: expenditures so far run only into the 
tens of millions, mostly for
: building the Bigelow Aerospace 
physical plant, for patents obtained
: from NASA, and for building and 
testing prototypes of space station
: modules. His biggest outlays, for 
building and launching the actual
: modules into space, have yet to be 
made. But here again, he plans
: to spend carefully, hiring rides on 
relatively low-cost commercial
: SpaceX and Russian Dneper launch 
vehicles, and sourcing
: off-the-shelf components from 
reasonably priced vendors whenever
: possible. It’s this careful approach 
to spending, honed on
: countless construction projects, that 
Bigelow feels sets him apart
: from NASA, which relies on high-priced 
defense contractors.

: After TransHab was cancelled, Bigelow 
bought the exclusive
: development rights from NASA and 
entered into a Space Act Agreement
: with the agency to allow him to work 
with former TransHab engineers
: still employed there. And he tracked 
down Schneider, by then
: retired from NASA and teaching at 
Texas A&M University. Schneider
: was surprised when he got the call, 
but he agreed to see for
: himself what Bigelow was up to. The 
modules Bigelow has on display,
: though empty except for floors and 
structural elements, had their
: intended effect on Schneider. “And 
god,” he recalls now, “when I
: walked in here, boom! It was 
mind-boggling, because this is the
: vision that I really wanted. Here’s 
these things, all sitting
: there, and of course some of them are 
mock-ups, but the rest were
: inflatable, and I said, ‘Man, he’s 
serious. He’s not playing
: around.’ ” These days Schneider and 
his former TransHab colleagues
: visit the plant every few weeks to 
provide guidance to Bigelow’s
: engineers. For Schneider, it’s a 
chance to follow through on some
: unfinished business. “It’s kind of 
like you want to see your child
: grow up to maturity,” he says, “not be 
stopped in its adolescence.”

: The real work at Bigelow Aerospace 
goes on in Building A, with its
: expansive shop floor. Here machinists 
and technicians turn out
: aluminum parts on state-of-the art 
computer-driven milling machines
: and assemble them into test modules. 
On a recent day, a welding
: torch flared in the darkness of a 
full-scale mock-up being
: converted into a vacuum chamber for 
testing the inflation of
: modules under reduced atmospheric 
pressure.

: Bigelow patrols the shop floor, 
wearing his customary colorful
: shirt and spotless white sneakers. 
Even to many of his longtime
: employees he is known as Mr. Bigelow, 
yet he’s often greeted with
: smiles and good-natured ribbing. He’s 
involved in every aspect of
: the operation, keeping a close eye on 
the work of the machinists
: and signing off on all of his 
engineers’ designs. He has to feel
: with his own hands the heft of each 
precision part, to hear the
: satisfying click of them fitting together.

: Last summer, rather than endure 
abstract discussion in a meeting on
: whether to use the Jet Propulsion 
Laboratory in Pasadena,
: California, for vibration tests, he 
abruptly took the entire
: meeting to the airport and put the 
flabbergasted team on his
: private jet. They flew to Pasadena to 
evaluate the facility
: firsthand, had lunch, and flew back to 
North Las Vegas to continue
: the meeting.

: As Franklin E. Gibbs, Bigelow’s patent 
attorney, recalled later:
: “We’ve got a room full of engineers, 
and everybody is worried about
: figuring it to the nth degree, and 
Robert just says, ‘Wait. Build
: it. Let’s see what it does.’ ” Bigelow 
called the manufacturing
: manager up from the shop floor and 
told him to get to work: “Build
: both of them. I want a dozen of these 
ready after lunch.” By the
: time the meeting reconvened, a dozen 
shiny rollers of each type
: awaited evaluation. The verdict? Go 
with the safer 3/16-inchers.

: Schneider’s crew’s original TransHab 
design had more stopping power
: than did aluminum three inches thick. 
Ground-testing of Bigelow’s
: MMOD has shown that it can stop 
impacts by 5/8-inch-diameter
: aluminum pellets fired at it at 6.4 
kilometers a second, several
: times as fast as a rifle bullet. No 
rigid spacecraft design can
: match this performance, and it’s one 
of the reasons Nautilus has an
: expected life span of at least 15 
years. But getting the MMOD to
: fold properly for launch is a major 
engineering headache. “It’s
: challenging because it is such a 
robust and thick material,”
: Lardizabal says.

: Lardizabal admits that he and his 
colleagues may not be able to
: overcome these and other formidable 
obstacles that will arise
: before Bigelow’s $500-million 
commitment runs out in 2015. He puts
: the project’s chances for success at 
60 percent. “This will be the
: first time,” he explains. “That’s the 
problem. You can’t foresee
: everything. Just like when we rolled 
out the 747 the first time.”
: Schneider, though, has no doubt that 
Nautilus will be in orbit by
: 2010, as planned—in large part because 
Bigelow is in charge. He
: compares Bigelow with another wildly 
successful Las Vegas real-
: estate mogul who had aerospace 
interests: “Bob is like Howard
: Hughes reincarnated. He’s not just a 
financial person; he’s in the
: middle of everything that we do.”

: It could be argued that Bigelow’s 
space station is on the way to
: becoming his own [Spruce Goose], the 
monumentally ambitious Hughes
: aircraft that could barely get 
airborne. But whereas the
: freewheeling Hughes inherited a 
fortune with which to make a bigger
: fortune, Bigelow is a self-made man, 
and therein lies a key
: difference. Beginning with his first 
apartment house, Bigelow has
: developed a clear-headed and 
methodical approach to all his
: projects: Hire the best engineers and 
tradespeople, source the best
: materials, and stay on time and on 
budget. “They’re taking a very
: down-to-earth approach to what they’re 
doing in terms of building
: and testing,” Taber MacCallum says of 
Bigelow Aerospace.

: “They’re very much along the same 
philosophical lines as Burt Rutan
: and his SpaceShipOne,” he says, “and 
we all know how successful
: that’s been.” Bigelow’s approach, he 
adds, is aggressive, but “he’s
: very safety- conscious, much like Rutan.”

: Before [Columbia] was lost in 2003 and 
the remaining space shuttles
: grounded, Bigelow was in talks with 
the Russians to supply his
: stations with three-person Soyuz 
capsules. After the [Columbia]
: accident, though, Bigelow found 
himself in competition with NASA
: for rides on the Soyuz—a distinctly 
untenable position.

: The success of the X Prize pointed the 
way toward a potential
: solution: Bigelow decided to launch 
his own competition. America’s
: Space Prize will award $50 million for 
the first privately funded
: spacecraft that can send five people 
into orbit and dock with a
: Bigelow Aerospace habitat. The 
deadline is January 10, 2010, the
: date Bigelow wants his hotel to open.

: At $7.9 million, Bigelow’s tickets 
will be a relative bargain. At
: that price, says Eric Anderson, whose 
company, Space Adventures,
: brokered the $20-million flights, 
Bigelow could see 20 to
: 30 customers a year. But Bigelow says 
he’ll offer his station to
: any commercial enterprise that’s 
interested. He hopes to find a
: market among drug companies and other 
manufacturers who want to
: take advantage of the increased 
efficiencies afforded by
: microgravity, as well as researchers 
and Hollywood producers eager
: to shoot movies, TV shows and 
commercials in space.

: Still, Bigelow says he stands a 
better-than-even chance of losing a
: big chunk of his fortune on this 
$500-million gamble. “But you
: know,” he says, “the faint of heart 
never won a fair maiden, never
: won wars.” Besides, “I think what 
we’re doing has some national
: value, win or lose.” That notion is a 
powerful motivation for
: Bigelow, says Gibbs, his patent 
attorney: “He feels like the United
: States should be taking the lead in 
this and that we really need to
: get more private industry involved if 
we’re going to jump forward
: with any real spectacular moves.”

: “Where’s the inspiration in America?” 
Bigelow asks.

--
Mark Reiff <markreiff@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>


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