blocked by a sign directing people to ground transport.
Good enough.
* * *
The helmet was a polycarbonate fishbowl, a true sphere, sitting on a metal collar with through fittings which in turn terminated in a flange and seal.
“It was tested to hard vacuum,” Cory said.
“With a person in it?”
Cory tapped the fishbowl, “It did some time in the eleven-foot chamber at Johnson, on an experimental suit. It was an attempt to make a disposable suit—cheap enough to use once and discard. The suit design didn’t work out, but the helmet never failed.”
“How do you test it without a suit? And what do you mean by hard vacuum?”
“Hard vacuum is all over the place in the literature, but when I use it, I mean fractions of a pascal—the thermosphere and above.
“We test solitary helmets two different ways. One is to put them on a test stand and pressurize them to ten atmospheres. That’s effectively the difference between one atmosphere inside and a vacuum outside. The other method is in a vacuum—in a chamber on a sealed test flange—one atmosphere inside, vacuum outside. We did both on this.”
“And it passed?”
“To one atmosphere.” He jabbed his thumb toward the suit stand at the end of the bench. “ We only need a third of that four-point-nine psi, for the MCP suit.”
“Where’s your life support?”
He tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“What are your test subjects going to breathe ?”
“Oh. You run an O 2 line, on a pressure regulator set to four point nine psi, and absorb the CO 2 with soda lime or lithium hydroxide in the helmet. We could just purge the CO 2 but that would contaminate the vacuum.”
“Contaminate? A bit of oxygen and CO 2 is going to contaminate your pristine vacuum?”
“Contaminate as in ‘pressurize.’ The vacuum pumps are good, but you purge the helmet and you probably raise the pressure several pascals, and it will take a bit of time to pump it back down. You want consistent vacuum for the tests.”
“Could you run the O 2 from a tank, instead?”
“It was run from a tank.”
“I mean a tank on the suit.”
“Oh, sure, no difference.”
“And could you run that in space?”
“Just a tank and some absorbent?” He frowned. “You’d want something more robust than that, with backups. That’s not my area of research, really. Just needed them able to breathe for my tests. But spaceworthy life support? Well, NASA has already done thousands of hours of EVA—they’ve got it wired.”
He wasn’t getting my point. “When will NASA test your suit in orbit, Cory?”
And when will NASA give me a spacesuit?
He frowned. “The design needs to be proven. It has to be tested in chambers and refined. I’ve got to solve the closure problem.”
“I see,” I said. “You want to contribute to the space program. You’ve got the long view. You’re thinking about a push to Mars within the next twenty years.”
“Well, yeah.”
I leaned in and locked eyes with him, causing him to lean back, a bit alarmed.
“Cory, you give me a working helmet and an hour of breathable air and I’ll test your suit in orbit this week .”
His eyes widened and he licked his lips.
I said, “I’m fine with advancing the state of technology for NASA and every other space program, but I’m not waiting to buy a ticket. The difference between you and me is that you’re depending on their space program—” I pointed at him and then jerked my thumb back at myself. “—while I’m making my own .
“You want to come along?”
* * *
The weekend had gone well for Tara and Jade, though Jade didn’t want Tara to go back. They were more clingy than they’d been on Friday, if that was possible.
“Decide,” I said. “Tara’s mom is probably passing through Provo, now. When she gets to the airport and Tara doesn’t show, I’m not the one who’s going to call her. Pretty sure you’ll get some interesting calls from both sets of parents.”
Jade
Good enough.
* * *
The helmet was a polycarbonate fishbowl, a true sphere, sitting on a metal collar with through fittings which in turn terminated in a flange and seal.
“It was tested to hard vacuum,” Cory said.
“With a person in it?”
Cory tapped the fishbowl, “It did some time in the eleven-foot chamber at Johnson, on an experimental suit. It was an attempt to make a disposable suit—cheap enough to use once and discard. The suit design didn’t work out, but the helmet never failed.”
“How do you test it without a suit? And what do you mean by hard vacuum?”
“Hard vacuum is all over the place in the literature, but when I use it, I mean fractions of a pascal—the thermosphere and above.
“We test solitary helmets two different ways. One is to put them on a test stand and pressurize them to ten atmospheres. That’s effectively the difference between one atmosphere inside and a vacuum outside. The other method is in a vacuum—in a chamber on a sealed test flange—one atmosphere inside, vacuum outside. We did both on this.”
“And it passed?”
“To one atmosphere.” He jabbed his thumb toward the suit stand at the end of the bench. “ We only need a third of that four-point-nine psi, for the MCP suit.”
“Where’s your life support?”
He tilted his head. “Pardon?”
“What are your test subjects going to breathe ?”
“Oh. You run an O 2 line, on a pressure regulator set to four point nine psi, and absorb the CO 2 with soda lime or lithium hydroxide in the helmet. We could just purge the CO 2 but that would contaminate the vacuum.”
“Contaminate? A bit of oxygen and CO 2 is going to contaminate your pristine vacuum?”
“Contaminate as in ‘pressurize.’ The vacuum pumps are good, but you purge the helmet and you probably raise the pressure several pascals, and it will take a bit of time to pump it back down. You want consistent vacuum for the tests.”
“Could you run the O 2 from a tank, instead?”
“It was run from a tank.”
“I mean a tank on the suit.”
“Oh, sure, no difference.”
“And could you run that in space?”
“Just a tank and some absorbent?” He frowned. “You’d want something more robust than that, with backups. That’s not my area of research, really. Just needed them able to breathe for my tests. But spaceworthy life support? Well, NASA has already done thousands of hours of EVA—they’ve got it wired.”
He wasn’t getting my point. “When will NASA test your suit in orbit, Cory?”
And when will NASA give me a spacesuit?
He frowned. “The design needs to be proven. It has to be tested in chambers and refined. I’ve got to solve the closure problem.”
“I see,” I said. “You want to contribute to the space program. You’ve got the long view. You’re thinking about a push to Mars within the next twenty years.”
“Well, yeah.”
I leaned in and locked eyes with him, causing him to lean back, a bit alarmed.
“Cory, you give me a working helmet and an hour of breathable air and I’ll test your suit in orbit this week .”
His eyes widened and he licked his lips.
I said, “I’m fine with advancing the state of technology for NASA and every other space program, but I’m not waiting to buy a ticket. The difference between you and me is that you’re depending on their space program—” I pointed at him and then jerked my thumb back at myself. “—while I’m making my own .
“You want to come along?”
* * *
The weekend had gone well for Tara and Jade, though Jade didn’t want Tara to go back. They were more clingy than they’d been on Friday, if that was possible.
“Decide,” I said. “Tara’s mom is probably passing through Provo, now. When she gets to the airport and Tara doesn’t show, I’m not the one who’s going to call her. Pretty sure you’ll get some interesting calls from both sets of parents.”
Jade
Similar Books
