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Electric propulsion Electrostatic Propulsion Fission Power Systems Heat Rejection Nuclear Electric Propulsion Power Conversion Systems Spacecraft Concepts

Transport and Energy Module: Russia’s new NEP Tug

Hello, and welcome back to Beyond NERVA! Today’s blog post is a special one, spurred on by the announcement recently about the Transport and Energy Module, Russia’s new nuclear electric space tug! Because of the extra post, the next post on liquid fueled NTRs will come out on Monday or Tuesday next week.

This is a fascinating system with a lot of promise, but has also gone through major changes in the last year that seem to have delayed the program. However, once it’s flight certified (which is to be in the 2030s), Roscosmos is planning on mass-producing the spacecraft for a variety of missions, including cislunar transport services and interplanetary mission power and propulsion.

Begun in 2009, the TEM is being developed by Energia on the spacecraft side and the Keldysh Center on the reactor side. This 1 MWe (4MWt) nuclear reactor will power a number of gridded ion engines for high-isp missions over the spacecraft’s expected 10-year mission life.

First publicly revealed in 2013 at the MAKS aerospace show, a new model last year showed significant changes, with additional reporting coming out in the last week indicating that more changes are on the horizon (there’s a section below on the current TEM status).

This is a rundown of the TEM, and its YaDEU reactor. I also did a longer analysis of the history of the TEM on my Patreon page (patreon.com/beyondnerva), including a year-by-year analysis of the developments and design changes. Consider becoming a Patron for only $1 a month for additional content like early blog access, extra blog posts and visuals, and more!

TEM Spacecraft

Lower left: stowed configuration for launch, upper right: operational configuration. Image Roscosmos

The TEM is a nuclear electric spacecraft, designed around a gas-cooled high temperature reactor and a cluster of ion engines.

The TEM is designed to be delivered by either Proton or Angara rockets, although with the retirement of the Proton the only available launcher for it currently is the Angara-5.

Secondary Power System

Both versions of the TEM have had secondary folding photovoltaic power arrays. Solar panels are relatively commonly used for what’s known as “hotel load,” or the load used by instrumentation, sensors, and other, non-propulsion systems.

It is unclear if these feed into the common electrical bus of the spacecraft or form a secondary system. Both schemes are possible; if the power is run through a common electrical bus the system is simpler, but a second power distribution bus allows for greater redundancy in the spacecraft.

Propulsion System

Image: user Valentin on Habr from MAKS 2013

The Primary propulsion system is the ID-500 gridded ion engine. For more information about gridded ion engines in general, check out my page on them here: https://beyondnerva.com/electric-propulsion/gridded-ion-thrusters/

The ID-500 was designed by the Keldysh Center specifically to be used on the TEM, in conjunction with YaEDU. Due to the very high power availability of the YaEDU, standard ion engines simply weren’t able to handle either the power input or the needed propellant flow rates, so a new design had to be come up with.

The ID-500 is a xenon-propelled ion engine, with each thruster having a maximum power level of about 35 kW, with a grid diameter of 500 mm. The initially tested design in 2014 (see references below) had a tungsten cathode, with an expected lifetime of 5000 hours, although additional improvements through the use of a carbon-carbon cathode were proposed which could increase the lifetime by a factor of 10 (more than 50,000 hours of operation).

Each ID-500 is designed to throttle from 375-750 mN of thrust, varying both propellant flow rate and ionization chamber pressure. The projected exhaust velocity of the engine is 70,000 m/s (7000 s isp), making it an attractive option for the types of orbit-altering, long duration missions that the TEM is expected to undertake.

The fact that this system uses a gridded ion thruster, rather than a Hall effect thruster (HET), is interesting, since HETs are the area that Soviet, then Russian, engineers and scientists have excelled at. The higher isp makes sense for a long-term tug, but with a system that seems that it could refuel, the isp-to-thrust trade-off is an interesting decision.

The initial design released at MAKS 2013 had a total of 16 ion thrusters on four foldable arms, but the latest version from MAKS-2019 has only five thrusters. The new design is visible below:

The first design is ideal for the tug configuration: the distance between the thrusters and the payload ensure that a minimal amount of the propellant hits the payload, robbing the spacecraft of thrust, contaminating the spacecraft, and possibly building up a skin charge on the payload. The downside is that those arms, and their hinge system, cost mass and complexity.

The new design clusters only five (less than one third) thrusters clustered in the center-line of the spacecraft. This saves mass, but the decrease in the number of thrusters, and the fact that they’re placed in the exact location that the payload makes most sense to attach, has me curious about what the mission profile for this initial TEM is.

It is unclear if the thrusters are the same design.

Lovtsov, A.S., and Selivanov, M. Y. “FIRE TESTS OF HIGH POWER ION ENGINE FOR PERSPECTIVE TRANSPORT MODULES” 2014 http://naukarus.com/ognevye-ispytaniya-ionnogo-dvigatelya-vysokoy-moschnosti-dlya-perspektivnyh-transportnyh-moduley

Thermal Management

This may be the most interesting thing in in the TEM: the heat rejection system.

Most of the time, spacecraft use what are commonly called “bladed tubular radiators.” These are tubes which carry coolant after it reaches its maximum temperature. Welded to the tube are plates, which do two things: it increases the surface area of the tube (with the better conductivity of metal compared to most fluids this means that the heat can be further distributed than the diameter of the pipe) and it protects the pipe from debris impacts. However, there are limitations in how much heat can be rejected by this type of radiator: the pipes, and joints between pipes, have definite thermal limits, with the joins often being the weakest part in folding radiators.

The TEM has the option of using a panel-type radiator, in fact there’s many renderings of the spacecraft using this type of radiator, such as this one:

Image Roscosmos

However, many more renderings present a far more exciting possibility: a liquid droplet radiator, called a “drip refrigerator” in Russian. This design uses a spray of droplets in place of the panels of the radiator. This increases the surface area greatly, and therefore allows far more heat to be rejected. In addition it can reduce the mass of the system significantly, both due to the increased surface area and also the potentially higher temperature, assuming the system can recapture the majority of its coolant.

Work has been done both on the ground and in space on this system. The Drop-2 test is being conducted on the ISS, and multiple papers were published on it. It began in 2014, and according to Roscosmos will continue until 2024. http://www.tsniimash.ru/science/scientific-experiments-onboard-the-is-rs/cnts/experiments/kaplya_2/

Here it is being installed:

Image Roscosmos

Here’s an image of the results:

Image Roscosmos via Twitter user Niemontal

A patent for what is possibly the droplet collection system has also been registered in Russia: https://yandex.ru/patents/doc/RU2607685C1_20170110

This system was also tested on the ground throughout 2018 (https://ria.ru/20181029/1531649544.html?referrer_block=index_main_2), and appears to have passed all the vacuum chamber ground tests needed. Based on the reporting, more in-orbit tests will be needed, but with Drop-2 already on-station it may be possible to conduct these tests reasonably easily.

I have been unable to determine what the working fluid that would be used is, but anything with a sufficiently low vapor pressure to survive the vacuum of space and the right working fluid range can be used, from oils to liquid metals.

For more on this type of system, check out Winchell Chung’s incredible page on them at Atomic Rockets: http://www.projectrho.com/public_html/rocket/heatrad.php#liquidradiator I will also cover them in the future (possibly this fall, hopefully by next year) in my coverage of thermal management solutions.

Of all the technologies on this spacecraft, this has to be the one that I’m most excited about. Some reporting (http://trudymai.ru/upload/iblock/a26/teploobmen-izlcheniem-dispergirovannykh-potokov-teplonositeley-kosmicheskikh-letatelnykh-apparatov.pdf ) says that this radiator can hit between 0.12 and 0.2 kW/kg system specific power!

Reaction Control Systems

Nothing is known of the reaction control system for the TEM. A number of options are available and currently used in Russian systems, but it doesn’t seem that this part of the design has been discussed publicly.

Additional Equipment

The biggest noticeable change in the rest of the spacecraft is the change in the spine structure. The initial model and renders had a square cross section telescoping truss with an open triangular girder profile. The new version has a cylindrical truss structure, with a tetrahedral girder structure which almost looks like the same structure that chicken-wire uses. I’m certain that there’s a trade-off between mass and rigidity in this change, but what precisely it is is unclear due to the fact that we don’t have dimensions or materials for the two structures. The change in the cross-section also means that while the new design is likely stronger from all angles, it makes it harder to pack into the payload fairing of the launch vehicle.

Image Twitter user Katya Pavlushcenko

The TEM seems like it has gone through a major redesign in the last couple years. Because of this, it’s difficult to tell what other changes are going to be occurring with the spacecraft, especially if there’s a significant decrease in electrical power available.

It is safe to assume that the first version of the TEM will be more heavily instrumented than later versions, in order to support flight testing and problem-solving, but this is purely an assumption on my part. The reconfiguration of the spacecraft at MAKS-2019 does seem to indicate, at least for one spacecraft, the loss of the payload capability, but at this point it’s impossible to say.

YaEDU Architecture

The YaEDU is the reactor that will be used on the TEM spacecraft. Overall, with power conversion system, the power system will weigh about 6800 kg.

Reactor

Image NIKIET
Image NIKIET
Image NIKIET
Image NIKIET at MAKS 2013

The reactor itself is a gas cooled, fast neutron spectrum, oxide fueled reactor, designed with an electrical output requirement rather than a thermal output requirement, oddly enough (choice in power conversion system changes the ratio of thermal to electrical power significantly, and as we’ll see it’s not set in stone yet) of 1 Mwe. This requires a thermal output of at least 4 MWt, although depending on power conversion efficiency it may be higher. Currently, though, the 4 MWt figure seems to be the baseline for the design. It is meant to have a ten year reactor lifetime.

This system has undergone many changes over its 11 year life, and due to the not-completely-clear nature of much of its development and architecture, there’s much about the system that we have conflicting or incomplete information on. Therefore, I’m going to be providing line-by-line references for the design details in these sections, and if you’ve got confirmable technical details on any part of this system, please comment below with your references!

Fuel

The fuel for the reactor appears to be highly enriched uranium oxide, encased in a monocrystalline molybdenum clad. According to some reporting (https://habr.com/en/post/381701/ ), the total fuel mass is somewhere between 80-150 kg, depending on enrichment level. There have been some mentions of carbonitride fuel, which offers a higher fissile fuel density but is more thermally sensitive (although how much is unclear), but these have been only passing mentions.

The use of monocrystalline structures in nuclear reactors is something that the Russians have been investigating and improving for decades, going all the way back to the Romashka reactor in the 1950s. The reason for this is simple: grain boundaries, or the places where different crystalline structures interact within a solid material, act as refractory points for neutrons, similarly to how a cracked pane of glass distorts the light coming through it through internal reflection and the disruption of light waves undergoing refraction in the material. There’s two ways around this: either make sure that there are no grain boundaries (the Russian method), or make it so that the entire structure – or as close to it as possible – are grain boundaries, called nanocrystalline materials (the preferred method of the US and other Western countries. While the monocrystalline option is better in many ways, since it makes an effectively transparent, homogeneous material, it’s difficult to grow large monocrystalline structures, and they can be quite fragile in certain materials and circumstances. This led the US and others to investigate the somewhat easier to execute, but more loss-intensive, nanocrystalline material paradigm. For astronuclear reactors, particularly ones with a relatively low keff (effective neutron multiplication rate, or how many neutrons the reactor has to work with), this monocrystalline approach makes sense, but I’ve been unable to find the keff of this reactor anywhere, so it may be quite high in theory.

It was reported by lenta.ru in 2014 (https://lenta.ru/news/2014/07/08/rosatom/ ) that the first fuel element (or TVEL in Russian) was assembled at Mashinostroitelny Zavod OJSC.

Reference was made (http://www.atomic-energy.ru/news/2015/07/01/58052 ) in 2015 to the fuel rods as “RUGBK” and “RUEG,” although the significance of this acronym is beyond me. If you’re familiar with it, please comment below!

In 2016, Dmitry Markov, the Director of the Institute of Reactor Materials in Zarechny, Sverdlovsk, reported that full size fuel elements had been successfully tested (https://xn--80aaxridipd.xn--p1ai/uchenye-iz-sverdlovskoj-oblasti-uspeshno-zavershili-ispytaniya-tvel-dlya-kosmicheskogo-yadernogo-dvigatelya/ ).

Coolant

The TEM uses a mix of helium and xenon as its primary coolant, a common choice for fast-spectrum reactors. Initial reporting indicated an inlet temperature of 1200K, with an outlet temperature of 1500K, although I haven’t been able to confirm this in any more recent sources. Molybdenum, tantalum, tungsten and niobium alloys are used for the primary coolant tubes.

Testing of the coolant loop took place at the MIR research reactor in NIIAR, in the city of Dimitrovgrad. Due to the high reactor temperature, a special test loop was built in 2013 to conduct the tests. Interestingly, other options, including liquid metal coolant, were considered (http://osnetdaily.com/2014/01/russia-advances-development-of-nuclear-powered-spacecraft/ ), but rejected due to lower efficiency and the promise of the initial He-Xe testing.

Power Conversion System

There have been two primary options proposed for the power conversion system of the TEM, and in many ways it seems to bounce back and forth between them: the Brayton cycle gas turbine and a thermionic power conversion system. The first offers far superior power conversion ratios, but is notoriously difficult to make into a working system for a high temperature astronuclear system; the second is a well-understood system that has been used through multiple iterations in flown Soviet astronuclear systems, and was demonstrated on the Buk, Topol, and Yenesiy reactors (the first two types flew, the third is the only astronuclear reactor to be flight-certified by both Russia and the US).

Prototype Brayton turbine, Image Habr user Valentin from MAKS 2013

In 2013, shortly after the design outline for the TEM was approved, the MAKS trade show had models of many components of the TEM, including a model of the Brayton system. At the time, the turbine was advertised to be a 250 kW system, meaning that four would have been used by the TEM to support YaEDU. This system was meant to operate at an inlet temperature of 1550K, with a rotational speed of 60,000 rpm and a turbine tip speed of 500 m/s. The design work was being primarily carried out at Keldysh Center.

Prototype heat exchanger plates for turbine, image Habr user Valentin from MAKS 2013

The Brayton system would include both DC/AC and AC/DC convertors, buffer batteries as part of a power conditioning system, and a secondary coolant system for both the power conversion system bearing lubricant and the batteries.

Building and testing of a prototype turbine began before the 2013 major announcement, and was carried out at Keldysh Center. (http://osnetdaily.com/2014/01/russia-advances-development-of-nuclear-powered-spacecraft/ )

As early as 2015, though, there were reports (https://habr.com/en/post/381701/ ) that RSC Energia, the spacecraft manufacturer, were considering going with a simpler power conversion system, a thermionic one. Thermionic power conversion heats a material, which emits electrons (thermions). These electrons pass through either a vacuum or certain types of exotic materials (called Cs-Rydberg matter) to deposit on another surface, creating a current.

This would reduce the power conversion efficiency, so would reduce the overall electric power available, but is a technology that the Russians have a long history with. These reactors were designed by the Arsenal Design Bureau, who apparently had designs for a large (300-500 kW) thermionic design. If you’d like to learn more about the history of thermionic reactors in the USSR and Russia, check out these posts:

https://beyondnerva.com/2018/11/08/nuclear-electric-propulsion-history-part-1-the-soviet-astronuclear-program/
https://beyondnerva.com/2019/03/10/topaz-international-part-1-enisy-the-soviet-years/
https://beyondnerva.com/2019/03/22/topaz-international-part-ii-the-transition-to-collaboration/

This was potentially confirmed just a few days ago by the website Atomic Energy (http://www.atomic-energy.ru/news/2020/01/28/100970 ) by the first deputy head of Roscosmos, Yuri Urlichich. If so, this is not only a major change, but a recent one. Assuming the reactor itself remains in the same configuration, this would be a departure from the historical precedent of Soviet designs, which used in-core thermionics (due to their radiation hardness) rather than out-of-core designs, which were investigated by the US for the SNAP-8 program (something we’ll cover in the future).

So, for now we wait and see what the system will be. If it is indeed the thermionic system, then system efficiency will drop significantly (from somewhere around 30-40% to about 10-15%), meaning that far less electrical power will be available for the TEM.

Radiation Shielding

The shielding for the YaEDU is a mix of high-hydrogen blocks, as well as structural components and boron-containing materials (http://www.atomic-energy.ru/news/2015/12/24/62211).

The hydrogen is useful to shield most types of radiation, but the inclusion of boron materials stops neutron radiation very effectively. This is important to minimize damage from neutron irradiation through both atomic displacement and neutron capture, and boron does a very good job of this.

Current TEM Status

Two Russian media articles came out within the past week about the TEM, which spurred me to write this article.

RIA, an official state media outlet, reported a couple days ago that the first flight of a test unit is scheduled for 2030. In addition:

Roscosmos announced the completion of the first project to create a unique space “tug” – a transport and energy module (TEM) – based on a megawatt-class nuclear power propulsion system (YaEDU), designed to transport goods in deep space, including the creation of long-term bases on the planets. A technical complex for the preparation of satellites with a nuclear tug is planned to be built at Vostochny Cosmodrome and put into operation in 2030. https://ria.ru/20200128/1563959168.html

A second report (http://www.atomic-energy.ru/news/2020/01/28/100970) said that the reactor was now using a thermionic power conversion system, which is consistent with the reports that Arsenal is now involved with the program. This is a major design change from the Brayton cycle option, however it’s one that could be considered not surprising: in the US, both Rankine and Brayton cycles have often been proposed for space reactors, only to have them replaced by thermoelectric power conversion systems. While the Russians have extensive thermoelectric experience, their experience in the more efficient thermionic systems is also quite extensive.

It appears that there’s a current tender for 525 million rubles for the TEM project by Roscosmos, according to the Russian government procurement website, through November 2021 (https://zakupki.gov.ru/epz/order/notice/ok504/view/common-info.html?regNumber=0995000000219000115 ), for

“Creation of theoretical and experimental and experimental backlogs to ensure the development of highly efficient rocket propulsion and power plants for promising rocket technology products, substantiation of their main directions (concepts) of innovative development, the formation of basic requirements, areas of rational use, design and rational level of parameters with development software and methodological support and guidance documents on the design and solution of problematic issues of creating a new generation of propulsion and power plants.”

Work continues on the Vostnochy Cosmodrome facilities, and the reporting still concludes that it will be completed by 2030, when the first mass-production TEMs are planned to be deployed.

According to Yuri Urlichich, deputy head of Roscosmos, the prototype for the power plant would be completed by 2025, and life testing on the reactor would be completed by 2030. This is the second major delay in the program, and may indicate that there’s a massive redesign of the reactor. If the system has been converted to thermionic power, it would explain both the delay and the redesign of the spacecraft, but it’s not clear if this is the reason.

For now, we just have to wait and see. It still appears that the TEM is a major goal of both Roscosmos and Rosatom, but it is also becoming apparent that there have been challenges with the program.

Conclusions and Author Commentary

It deserves reiterating: I’m some random person on the Internet for all intents and purposes, but my research record, as well as my care in reporting on developments with extensive documentation, is something that I think deserves paying attention to. So I’m gonna put my opinion on this spacecraft out there.

This is a fascinating possibility. As I’ve commented on Twitter, the capabilities of this spacecraft are invaluable. Decommissioning satellites is… complicated. The so-called “graveyard orbits,” or those above geosynchronous where you park satellites to die, are growing crowded. Satellites break early in valuable orbits, and the operators, and the operating nations, are on the hook for dealing with that – except they can’t.

Additionally, while many low-cost launchers are available for low and mid Earth orbit launches, geostationary orbit is a whole different thing. The fact that India has a “Polar Satellite Launch Vehicle” (PSLV) and “Geostationary Satellite Launch Vehicle” (GSLV) classification for two very different satellites drives this home within a national space launch architecture.

The ability to contract whatever operator runs TEM missions (I’m guessing Roscosmos, but I may be wrong) with an orbital path post-booster-cutoff, and specify a new orbital pat, and have what is effectively an external, orbital-class stage come and move the satellite into a final orbit is… unprecedented. The idea of an inter-orbital tug is one that’s been proposed since the 1960s, before electric propulsion was practical. If this works the way that the design specs are put at, this literally rewrites the way mission planning can be done for any satellite operator who’s willing to take advantage of it in cislunar space (most obviously, military and intelligence customers outside Russia won’t be willing to take advantage of it).

The other thing to consider in cislunar space is decommissioning satellites: dragging things into a low enough orbit that they’ll burn up from GEO is costly in mass, and assumes that the propulsion and guidance, navigation, and control systems survive to the end of the satellite’s mission. As a satellite operator, and a host nation to that satellite with all the treaty obligations the OST requires the nation to take on, being able to drag defunct satellites out of orbit is incredibly valuable. The TEM can deliver one satellite and drag another into a disposal orbit on the way back. To paraphrase a wonderful character from Sir Terry Pratchett (Harry King)“They pay me to take it away, and they pay me to buy it after.” In this case, it’s opposite: they pay me to take it out, they pay me to take it back. Especially in graveyard orbit challenge mitigation, this is a potentially golden opportunity financially for the TEM operator: every mm/s of mission dV can potentially be operationally profitable. This is potentially the only system I’ve ever seen that can actually say that.

More than that, depending on payload restrictions for TEM cargoes, interplanetary missions can gain significant delta-vee from using this spacecraft. It may even be possible, should mass production actually take place, that it may be possible to purchase the end of life (or more) dV of a TEM during decommissioning (something I’ve never seen discussed) to boost an interplanetary mission without having to pay the launch mass penalty for the Earth’s escape velocity. The spacecraft was proposed for Mars crewed mission propulsion for the first half of its existence, so it has the capability, but just as SpaceX Starship interplanetary missions require SpaceX to lose a Starship, the same applies here, and it’s got to be worth the while of the (in this case interplanetary) launch provider to lose the spacecraft to get them to agree to it.

This is an exciting spacecraft, and one that I want to know more about. If you’re familiar with technical details about either the spacecraft or the reactor that I haven’t covered, please either comment or contact me via email at beyondnerva@gmail.com

We’ll continue with our coverage of fluid fueled NTRs in the next post. These systems offer many advantages over both traditional, solid core NTRs and electrically propelled spacecraft such as the TEM, and making the details more available is something I’ve greatly enjoyed. We’ll finish up liquid fueled NTRS, followed by vapor fuels, then closed and open fueled gas core NTRs, probably by the end of the summer

If you’re able to support my efforts to continue to make these sorts of posts possible, consider becoming a Patron at patreon.com/beyondnerva. My supporters help me cover systems like this, and also make sure that this sort of research isn’t lost, forgotten, or unavailable to people who come into the field after programs have ended.

Categories
Development and Testing Fission Power Systems Forgotten Reactors History Test Stands

Topaz International part 1: ENISY, the Soviet Years

Hello, and welcome back to Beyond NERVA! Today, we’re going to return to our discussion of fission power plants, and look at a program that was unique in the history of astronuclear engineering: a Soviet-designed and -built reactor design that was purchased and mostly flight-qualified by the US for an American lunar base. This was the Enisy, known in the West as Topaz-II, and the Topaz International program.

This will be a series of three posts on the system: this post focuses on the history of the reactor in the Soviet Union, including the testing history – which as we’ll see, heavily influenced the final design of the reactor. The next will look at the Topaz International program, which began as early as 1980, while the Soviet Union still appeared strong. Finally, we’ll look at two American uses for the reactor: as a test-bed reactor system for a nuclear electric test satellite, and as a power supply for a crewed lunar base. This fascinating system, and the programs associated with it, definitely deserve a deep dive – so let’s jump right in!

We’ve looked at the history of Soviet astronuclear engineering, and their extensive mission history. The last two of these reactors were the Topaz (Topol) reactors, on the Plasma-A satellites. These reactors used a very interesting type of power conversion system: an in-core thermionic system. Thermionic power conversion takes advantage of the fact that certain materials, when heated, eject electrons, gaining a positive static charge as whatever the electrons impact gain a negative charge. Because the materials required for a thermionic system can be made incredibly neutronically robust, they can be placed inside the core of the reactor itself! This is a concept that I’ve loved since I first heard of it, and remains as cool today as it did back then.

Diagram of multi-cell thermionic fuel element concept, Bennett 1989

The original Topaz reactor used a multi-cell thermionic element concept, where fuel elements were stacked in individual thermionic conversion elements, and several of these were placed end-to-end to form the length of the core. While this is a perfectly acceptable way to set up one of these systems, there are also inefficiencies and complexities associated with so many individual fuel elements. An alternative would be to make a single, full-length thermionic cell, and use either one or several fuel rods inside the thermionic element. This is the – wait for it – single cell thermionic element design, and is the one that was chosen for the Enisy/Topaz-II reactor (which we’ll call Enisy in this post, since it’s focusing on the Soviet history of the reactor). While started in 1967, and tested thoroughly in the 70s, it wasn’t flight-qualified until the 80s… and then the Soviet Union collapsed, and the program died.

After the fall of the USSR, there was a concerted effort by the US to keep the specialist engineers and scientists of the former Soviet republics employed (to ensure they didn’t find work for international bad actors such as North Korea), and to see what technology had been developed behind the Iron Curtain that could be purchased for use by the US. This is where the RD-180 rocket engine, still in use by the United Launch Alliance Atlas rockets, came from. Another part of this program, though, focused on the extensive experience that the Soviets had in astronuclear missions, and in paricular the most advanced – but as yet unflown – design of the renowned NPO Luch design bureau, attached to the Ministry of Medium Industry: the Enisy reactor (which had the US designation of Topaz-II due to early confusion about the design by American observers).

Enisy power supply, image Department of Defense

The Enisy, in its final iteration, was designed to have a thermal output of 115 kWt (at the beginning of life), with a mission requirement of at least 6 kWe at the electrical outlet terminals for at least three years. Additional requirements included a ten year shelf life after construction (without fissile fuel, coolant, or other volatiles loaded), a maximum mass of 1061 kg, and prevention of criticality before achieving orbit (which was complicated from an American point of view, more on that below). The coolant for the reactor remained NaK-78, a common coolant in most reactors we’ve looked at so far. Cesium was stored in a reservoir at the “bottom” (away from the spacecraft) end of the reactor vessel, to ensure the proper partial pressure between the cathode and anode of the fuel elements, which would leak out over time (about 0.5 g/day during operation). This was meant to be the next upgrade in the Soviet astronuclear fleet, and as such was definitely a step above the Topaz-I reactor.

Perhaps the most interesting part of the design is that it was designed to be able to be tested as a complete system without the use of fissile fuels in the reactor. Instead, electrical resistance heaters could be inserted in the thermionic fuel elements to simulate the fission process, allowing for far more complete testing of the system in flight configuration before launch. This design decision heavily influenced US nuclear power plant design and testing procedures, and continues to influence designs today (the induction heating testing of the KRUSTY thermal simulator is a good recent example of this concept, even if it’s been heavily modified for the different reactor geometry), however, the fact that the reactor used cylindrical fuel elements made this process much easier.

So what did the Enisy look like? This changed over time, but we will look at the basics of the power plant’s design in its final Soviet iteration in this post, and the examine the changes that the Americans made during the collaboration in the next post. We’ll also look at why the design changed as it did.

First, though, we need to look at how the system worked, since compared to every system that we’ve looked at in depth, the physics behind the power conversion system are quite novel.

Thermionics: How to Keep Your Power Conversion System in the Core

We haven’t looked at power conversion systems much in this blog yet, but this is a good place to discuss the first kind as it’s so integral to this reactor. If the details of how the power conversion system actually worked don’t interest you, feel free to skip to the next section, but for many people interested in astronuclear design this power conversion system offers the promise to potentially be the most efficient and reliable option available for in-space nuclear reactors geared towards electricity production.

In short, thermionic reactions are those that occur when a material is heated and gives off charged particles. This is something that has been known since ancient times, even though the physical mechanism was completely unknown until after the discovery of the electron. The name comes from the term “thermions,” or “thermal ions.” One of the first to describe this effect used a hot anode in a vacuum: the modern incandescent lightbulb: Thomas Edison, who observed a static charge building up on the glass of his bulbs while they were turned on. However, today this has expanded to include the use of anodes, as well as solid-state systems and systems that don’t have a vacuum.

The efficiency of these systems depends on the temperature difference between the anode and cathode, the work function (or minimum thermodynamic work needed to remove an electron from a solid to a vacuum immediately outside the solid surface) of the emitter used, and the Boltzmann Constant (which relates to the average kinetic energy of particles in a gas), as well as a number of other factors. In modern systems, however, the structure of a thermionic convertor which isn’t completely solid state is fairly standard: a hot cathode is separated from a cold anode, with cesium vapor in between. For nuclear systems, the anode is often tungsten, the cathode seems to vary depending on the system, and the gap between – called the inter-electrode gap – is system specific.

The cesium exists in an interesting state of matter. Solid, liquid, gas, and plasma are familiar to pretty much everyone at this point, but other states exist under unusual circumstances; perhaps the best known is a supercritical fluid, which exhibits the properties of both a liquid and a gas (although this is a range of possibilities, with some having more liquid properties and some more gaseous). The one that concerns us today is something called Rydberg matter, one of the more exotic forms of matter – although it has been observed in many places across the universe. In its simplest form, Rydberg matter can be seen as small clusters of interconnected molecules within a gas (the largest number of atoms observed in a laboratory is 91, according to Wikipedia, although there’s evidence for far larger numbers in interstellar gas clouds). These clumps end up affecting the electron clouds of those atoms in the clusters, causing them to orbit across the nuclei of those atoms, causing a new lowest-energy state for the entire cluster to occur. These structures don’t degrade any faster under radioactive bombardment due to a number of quantum mechanical properties, which brought them to the attention of the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory staff in the 1950s, and a short time later Soviet nuclear physicists as well.

This sounds complex, and it is, but the key point is this: because the clumps act as a unit within Rydberg matter, their ability to transmit electricity is enhanced compared to other gasses. In particular, cesium seems to be a very good vehicle for creating Rydberg matter, and cesium vapor seems to be the best available for the gap between the cathode and anode of a thermionic convertor. The density of the cesium vapor is variable and dependent on many factors, including the materials properties of the cathode and anode, the temperature of the cathode, the inter-electrode gap distance, and a number of other factors. Tuning the amount of cesium in the inter-electrode gap is something that must occur in any thermionic power conversion system; in fact the original version of the Enisy had the ability to vary the inter-electrode gap pressure (this was later dropped when it was discovered to be superfluous to the efficient function of the reactor).

This type of system comes in two varieties: in-core and out-of-core. The out-of-core variant is very similar to the power conversion systems we saw (briefly) on the SNAP systems: the coolant from the reactor passes around or through the radiation shield of the system, heats the anode, which then emits electrons into the gap, collected by the cathode, and then the electricity goes through the power conditioning unit and into the electrical system of the spacecraft. Because thermionic conversion is theoretically more efficient, and in practice is more flexible in temperature range, than thermoelectric conversion, even keeping the configuration of the power conversion system’s relationship to the rest of the power plant offers some advantages.

The in-core variant, on the other hand, wraps the power conversion system directly around the fissile fuel in the core, with electrical power being conducted out of the core itself and through the shield. The coolant runs across the outside of the thermionic unit, providing the thermal gradient for the system to work, and then exits the reactor. While this increases the volume of the core (admittedly, not by much), it also eliminates the need for more complex plumbing for the primary coolant loop. Additionally, it allows for less heat loss from the coolant having to travel a farther difference. Finally, there’s far less chance of a stray meteor hitting your power conversion system and causing problems – if a thermionic fuel element is damaged by a foreign object, you’re going to have far bigger problems with the system as a whole, since it means that it damaged your control systems and pressure vessel on the way to damaging your power conversion unit!

The in-core thermionic power conversion system, while originally proposed by the US, was seen as a curiosity on their side of the Iron Curtain. Some designs were proposed, but none were significantly researched to the level of being able to be serious contenders in the struggle to gain the significant funding needed to develop as complex a system as an astronuclear fission power plant, and the low conversion efficiency available in practice prevents its application in terrestrial power plants, which to this day continue to use steam turbine generators.

On the other side of the Iron Curtain, however, this was seen as the ideal solution for a power conversion system: the only systems needed for the system to work could be solid-state, with no moving parts: heaters to vaporize the cesium, and electromagnetic pumps to move it through the reactor. Greater radiation resistance and more flexible operating temperatures, as well as greater conversion efficiency, all offered more promise to Soviet astronuclear systems designers than the thermoelectric path that the US ended up following. The first Soviet reactor designed for in-space use, the Romashka, used a thermionic power conversion system, but the challenges involved in the system itself led the Krasnya Zvezda design bureau (who were responsible for the Romasha, Bouk, and Topol reactors) to initially choose to use thermoelectric convertors in their first flight system: the BES-5 Bouk, which we’ve seen before.

Now that we’ve looked at the physics behind how you can place your power conversion system within the reactor vessel of your power plant (and as far as I’ve been able to determine, if you’re looking to generate electricity beyond what a simple sensor needs, this is the only option without going to something very exotic), let’s look at the reactor itself.

Enisy: The Design of the TOPAZ-II Reactor

The Enisy was a uranium oxide fueled, zirconium hydride moderated, sodium-potassium eutectic cooled reactor, which used a single-element thermionic fuel element design for in-core power conversion. The multi-cell version was used in the Topol reactor, where each fuel pellet was wrapped in its own thermionic convertor. This is sometimes called a “flashlight” configuration, since it looks a bit like the batteries in a large flashlight, but this comes at the cost of complexity, mass, and increased inefficiencies. To offset this, many issues are easier to deal with in this configuration, especially as your fuel reaches higher burnup percentages and your fuel swells. The ultimate goal was single-unit thermionic fuel elements, which were realized in the Enisy reactor. While more challenging in terms of materials requirements, the greater simplicity, lower mass, and greater efficiency of the system offered more promise.

The power plant was required to provide 6 kWe of electrical power at the reactor terminals (before the power conditioning unit) at 27 volts. It had to have an operational life of three years, and a storage life if not immediately used in a mission of at least ten years. It also had to have an operational reliability of >95%, and could not under any circumstances achieve criticality before reaching orbit, nor could the coolant freeze at any time during operation. Finally, it had to do all of this in less than 1061 kg (excluding the automatic control system).

TFE Full Length, image DOD

Thirty-seven fuel elements were used in the core, which was contained in a stainless steel reactor vessel. These contained uranium oxide fuel pellets, with a central fission gas void about 22% of the diameter of the fuel pellets to prevent swelling as fission products built up. The emitters were made out of molybdenum, a fairly common choice for in-core applications. Al2O3 (sapphire) insulators were used to electrically isolate the fuel elements from the rest of the core. Three of these would be used to power the cesium heater and pump directly, while another (unknown) number powered the NaK coolant pump (my suspicion is that it’s about the same number). The rest would output power directly from the element into the power conditioning unit on the far side of the power plant.

Enisy Core Cross-section, image DOD

Nine control drums, made mostly out of beryllium but with a neutron poison along one portion of the outer surface (Boron carbide/silicon carbide) surrounded the core. Three of these drums were safety drums, with two positions: in, with the neutron poison facing the center of the core, and out, where the beryllium acted as a neutron reflector. The rest of the drums could be rotated in or out as needed to maintain reactivity at the appropriate level in the core. These had actuators mounted outside the pressure vessel to control the rotation of the drums, and were connected to an automatic control system to ensure autonomous stable function of the reactor within the mission profile that the reactor would be required to support.

Image DOD

The NaK coolant would flow around the fuel elements, driven by an electromagnetic pump, and then pass through a radiator, in an annular flow path immediately surrounding the TFEs. Two inlet and two outlet pipes were used to connect the core to the radiator. In between the radiator and the core was a radiation shield, made up of stainless steel and lithium hydride (more on this seemingly odd choice when we look at the testing history).

The coolant tubes were embedded in a zirconium hydride moderator, which was contained in stainless steel casings.

Finally, a reservoir of cesium was at the opposite end of the reactor from the radiator. This was necessary for the proper functioning of the thermionic fuel elements, and underwent many changes throughout the design history of the reactor, including a significant expansion as the design life requirements increased.

Once the Topaz International program began, additional – and quite significant – changes were made to the reactor’s design, including a new automated control system and an anti-criticality system that actually removed some of the fuel from the core until the start-up commands were sent, but that’s a discussion for the next post.

TISA Heater Installation During Topaz International, image NASA

I saved the coolest part of this system for last: the TISA, or “Thermal Simulators of Apparatus Cores” (the acronym was from the original Russian), heaters. These units were placed in the active section of the thermionic fuel elements to simulate the heat of fission occurring in the thermionic fuel elements, with the rest of the systems and subsystems being in flight configuration. This led to unprecedented levels of testing capability, but at the same time would lead to a couple of problems later in testing – which would be addressed as needed.

How did this design end up this way? In order to understand that, the development and testing process of the Soviet design team must be looked at.

The History of Enisy’s Design

The Enisy reactor started with the development of the thermionic fuel element by the Sukhumi Institute in the early 1960s, which had two options: the single cell and multiple cell variants. In 1967, these two options were split into two different programs: the Topol (Topaz), which we looked at in the Soviet Astronuclear History post, led by the Krasnaya Zvezda design bureau in Moscow, and Enisy, which was headed by the Central Design Bureau of Machine Building in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg). Aside from the lead bureau, in charge of the overall program and system management, a number of other organizations were involved with the fabrication and testing of the reactor system: the design and modeling team consisted of: the Kurchatov Institute of Atomic Energy was responsible for nuclear design and analytics, the Scientific Industrial Association Lutch was responsible for the thermionic fuel elements, the Sukhumi Institute remained involved in the reactor’s automatic control systems design; fabrication and testing was the responsibility of: the Research Institute of Chemical Machine Building for thermal vacuum testing, the Scientific Institute for Instrument Building’s Turaevo nuclear test facility, Kraznoyarsk Spacecraft Designer for mechanical testing and spacecraft integration, Prometheus Laboratory for materials development (including liquid metal eutectic development for the cooling system and materials testing) and welding, and the Enisy manufacturing facility was located in Talinn, Estonia (a decision that would cause later headaches during the collaboration).

The Enisy originally had three customers (the identities of which I am not aware of, simply that at least one was military), and each had different requirements for the reactor. Originally designed to operate at 6 kWe for one year with a >95% success rate, but customer requirements changed both of these characteristics significantly. As an example, one customer needed a one year system life, with a 6 kWe power output, while another only needed 5 kWe – but needed a three year mission lifetime. This longer lifetime ended up becoming the baseline requirement of the system, although the 6 kWe requirement and >95% mission success rate remained unchanged. This led to numerous changes, especially to the cesium reservoir needed for the thermionic convertors, as well as insulators, sensors, and other key components in the reactor itself. As the cherry on top, the manufacture of the system was moved from Moscow to Talinn, Estonia, resulting in a new set of technicians needing to be trained to the specific requirements of the system, changes in documentation, and at the fall of the Soviet Union loss of significant program documentation which could have assisted the Russia/US collaboration on the system.

The nuclear design side of things changed throughout the design life as well. An increase in the number of thermionic fuel elements (TFEs) occurred in 1974, from 31 to 37 in the reactor core, an increase in the height of the “active” section of the TFE, although whether the overall TFE length (and therefore the core length) changed is information I have not been able to find. Additional space in the TFEs was added to account for greater fuel swelling as fission products built up in the fuel pellets, and the bellows used to ensure proper fitting of the TFEs with reactor components were modified as well. The moderator blocks in the core, made out of zirconium hydride, were modified at least twice, including changing the material that the moderator was kept in. Manufacturing changes in the stainless steel reactor vessel were also required, as were changes to the gamma shielding design for the shadow shield. All in all, the reactor went through significant changes from the first model tested to theend of its design life.

Another area with significantly changing requirements was the systems integration side of things. The reactor was initially meant to be launched in a reactor-up position, but this was changed in 1979 to a reactor-down launch configuration, necessitating changes to several systems in what ended up being a significant effort. Another change in the launch integration requirements was an increase in the acceleration levels required during dynamic testing by a factor of almost two, resulting in failures in testing – and resultant redesigns of many of the structures used in the system. Another thing that changed was the boom that mounted the power plant to the spacecraft – three different designs were used through the lifetime of the system on the Russian side of things, and doubtless another two (at least) were needed for the American spacecraft integration.

Perhaps the most changed design was the coolant loop, due to significant problems during testing and manufacturing of the system.

Design Driven by (Expected) Failure: The USSR Testing Program

Flight qualification for nuclear reactors in the USSR at the time was very different from the way that the US did flight qualification, something that we’ll look at a bit more later in this post. The Soviet method of flight qualification was to heavily test a number of test-beds, using both nuclear and non-nuclear techniques, to validate the design parameters. However, the actual flight articles themselves weren’t subjected to nearly the same level of testing that the American systems would be, instead going through a relatively “basic” (according to US sources) workmanship examination before any theoretical launch.

In the US, extensive systems modeling is a routine part of nuclear design of any sort, as well as astronautical design. Failures are not unexpected, but at the same time the ideal is that the system has been studied and modeled mathematically thoroughly enough that it’s not unreasonable to predict that the system will function correctly the first time… and the second… and so on. This takes not only a large amount of skilled intellectual and manual labor to achieve, but also significant computational capabilities.

In the Soviet Union, however, the preferred method of astronautical – and astronuclear – development was to build what seemed to be a well-designed system and then test it, expecting failure. Once this happened, the causes of the failure were analyzed, the problem corrected, and then the newly upgraded design would be tested again… and again, for as many times as were needed to develop a robust system. Failure was literally built into the development process, and while it could be frustrating to correct the problems that occurred, the design team knew that the way their system could fail had been thoroughly examined, leading to a more reliable end result.

This design philosophy leads to a large number of each system needing to be built. Each reactor that was built underwent a post-manufacturing examination to determine the quality of the fabrication in the system, and from this the appropriate use of the reactor. These systems had four prefixes: SM, V, Ya, and Eh. Each system in this order was able to do everything that the previous reactor would be able to do, in addition to having superior capabilities to the previous type. The SM, or static mockup, articles were never built for anything but mechanical testing, and as such were stripped down, “boilerplate” versions of the system. The V reactors were the next step up, which were used for thermophysical (heat transfer, vibration testing, etc) or mechanical testing, but were not of sufficient quality to undergo nuclear testing. The Ya reactors were suitable for use in nuclear testing as well, and in a pinch would be able to be used in flight. The Eh reactors were the highest quality, and were designated potential flight systems.

In addition to this designation, there were four distinct generations of reactor: the first generation was from V-11 to Ya-22. This core used 31 thermionic fuel elements, with a one year design life. They were intended to be launched upright, and had a lightweight radiation shield. The next generation, V-15 to Ya-26, the operational lifetime was increased to a year and a half.

The third generation, V-71 to Eh-42 had a number of changes. The number of TFEs was increased from 31 to 37, in large part to accommodate another increase in design life, to above 3 years. The emitters on the TFEs were changed to the monocrystaline Mo emitters, and the later ones had Nb added to the Mo (more on this below). The ground testing thermal power level was reduced, to address thermal damage from the heating units in earlier non-nuclear tests. This is also when the launch configuration was changed from upright to inverted, necessitating changes in the freeze-prevention thermal shield, integration boom, and radiator mounting brackets. The last two of this generation, Eh -41 and Eh-42, had the heavier radiation shield installed, while the rest used the earlier, lighter gamma shield.

The final generation, Ya-21u to Eh-44, had the longest core lifetime requirement of three years at 5.5 kWe power output. These included all of the other changes above, as well as many smaller changes to the reactor vessel, mounting brackets, and other mechanical components. Most of these systems ended up becoming either Ya or Eh units due to lessons learned in the previous three generations, and all of the units which would later be purchased by the US as flight units came from this final generation.

A total of 29 articles were built by 1992, when the US became involved in the program. As of 1992, two of the units were not completed, and one was never assembled into its completed configuration.

Sixteen of the 21 units were tested between 1970 and 1989, providing an extensive experimental record of the reactor type. Of these tests, thirteen underwent thermal, mechanical, and integration non-nuclear testing. Nuclear testing occurred six times at the Baikal nuclear facility. As of 1992, there were two built, but untested, flight units available: the E-43 and E-44, with the E-45 still under construction.

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Unit Name

Generation

Series #

Core Life

# of TFEs

TFE Generation

ACS Unit

Launch configuration

Manufacturing location

Test type

Test stand

Testing begin

Testing end

Testing duration

System notes

SM-0

0

Static Model 1

n/a

n/a

n/a

Upright

CDBMB

Static

01/01/76

01/01/76

Original mockup, with three main load bearing systems.

SM-1

0

Static Model 2

n/a

n/a

n/a

Inverted

CDBMB

Static

Krasnoyarsk

01/01/83

01/01/84

Inverted launch configuration static test model.

SM-2

0

Static Model 3

n/a

n/a

n/a

Inverted

CDBMB

Static

Krasnoyarsk

01/01/83

01/01/84

Inverted launch configuration static test model.

V-11

1

Prototype 1

1

1

Upright

CDBMB

Electric heat

Baikal

07/23/71

02/03/72

3200

Development of system test methods and operations. Incomplete set of TFEs

V-12

1

Prototype 2

1

31

1

Upright

CDBMB

Electrical

Baikal

06/21/72

04/18/73

850

Development of technology for prelaunch operations and system testing

V-13

1

Prototype 3

1

31

1

Upright

Talinn

Mechanical

Baikal, Mechanical

08/01/72

05/01/73

?

Transportation, dynamic, shock, cold temperature testing. Reliability at freezing and heating.

Ya(?)-20

1

Specimen 1

1

31

1

Upright

Talinn

Nuclear

Romashka

10/01/72

03/01/74

2500

Zero power testing. Neutron physical characteristics, radiation field characterization. Development of nuclear tests methods.

Ya-21

1

Specimen 2

1

31

1

Upright

Talinn

Nuclear

Baikal, Romashka

?

?

?

Nuclear test methods and test stand trials. Prelaunch operations. Neutron plysical characteristics

Ya-22

1

Specimen 3

1

31

1

Upright

Talinn

n/a

n/a

n/a

n/a

n/a

Unfabricated, was intended to use Ya-21 design documents

Unit Name

Generation

Series #

Core Life

# of TFEs

TFE Generation

ACS Unit

Launch configuration

Manufacturing location

Test type

Test stand

Testing begin

Testing end

Testing duration

System notes

V-15

2

Serial 1

1-1.5

31

2

Upright

Talinn

Cold temp

Baikal, Cold Temp Testing

02/12/80

?

Operation and functioning tests at freezing and heating.

V-16

2

Serial 2

1-1.5

31

2

Upright

Talinn

Mechanical, Electrical

Mechanical

08/01/79

12/01/79

2300

Transportation, vibration, shock. Post-mechanical electirc serviceability testing.

Ya-23

2

Serial 3

1-1.5

31

2

SAU-35

Upright

Talinn

Nuclear

Romashka

03/10/75

06/30/76

5000

Nuclear testing revision and development, including fuel loading, radiation and nuclear safety. Studied unstable nuclear conditions and stainless steel material properties, disassembly and inspection. LiH moderator hydrogen loss in test.

Eh-31

2

Serial 4

1-1.5

31

2

SAU-105

Upright

Talinn

Nuclear

Romashka

02/01/76

09/01/78

4600

Nuclear ground test. ACS startup, steady-state functioning, post-operation disassembly and inspection. TFE lifetime limited to ~2 months due to fuel swelling

Ya-24

2

Serial 5

1-1.5

31

2

SAU-105

Upright

Talinn

Nuclear

Tureavo

12/01/78

04/01/81

14000

Steady state nuclear testing. Significant TFE shortening post-irradiation.

(??)-33

2

Serial 6

1-1.5

31

2

Upright

Talinn

Spacecraft integration

Tureavo

n/a

n/a

n/a

TFE needed redesign, no systems testing. Installed at Turaevo as mockup. Used to establish transport and handling procedures

V(?)-25

2

Serial 7

1-1.5

31

2

Upright

Talinn

Spacecraft integration

Krasnoyarsk

n/a

n/a

?

System incomplete. Used as spacecraft mockup, did not undergo physical testing.

(??)-35

2

Serial 8

1-1.5

31

2

Upright

Talinn

Test stand preparation

Baikal

?

?

?

Second fabrication stage not completed. Used for some experiments with Baikal test stand. Disassembled in Sosnovivord.

V(?)-26

2

Serial 9

1-1.5

31

2

Upright

Talinn, CDBMB

n/a

n/a

n/a

n/a

n/a

Refabricated at CDBMB. TFE burnt and damaged during second fadrication. Notch between TISA and emitter

Unit Name

Generation

Series #

Core Life

# of TFEs

TFE Generation

ACS Unit

Launch configuration

Manufacturing location

Test type

Test stand

Testing begin

Testing end

Testing duration

System notes

V-71

3

Serial 10

1.5

37

3

Upright, Inverted

Talinn

Mechanical, Electrical, Spacecraft integration

Baikal, Krasnoyarsk, Cold Temp Testing

01/01/81

01/01/87

1300

Converted from upright to inverted launch configuration, spacecraft integration heavily modified. First to use 37 TFE core configuration. Transport testing (railroad vibration and shock), cold temperature testing. Electrical testing post-mechanical. Zero power testing at Krasnoyarsk.

Ya-81

3

Serial 11

1.5

37

3

Ground control (no ACS)

Inverted

Talinn

Nuclear

Romashka

09/01/80

01/01/83

12500

Nuclear ground test, steady state operation. Leaks observed in two cooling pipes 120 hrs into test; leaks plugged and test continued. Disassembly and inspection.

Ya-82

3

Serial 12

1.5

37

3

Prototype Sukhumi ACS

Inverted

Talinn

Nuclear

Tureavo

09/01/83

11/01/84

8300

Nuclear ground test, startup using ACS, steady state. Initial leak in EM pump led to large leak later in test. Test ended in loss of coolant accident. Reactor disassembled and inspected post-test to determine leak cause.

Eh(?)-37

3

Serial 13

1.5

37

3

Inverted

Talinn

Static

?

?

?

?

Quality not sufficient for flight (despite Eh “flight” designation). Static and torsion tests conducted.

Eh-38

3

Serial 14

1.5

37

3

Factory #1

Inverted

Talinn

Nuclear

Romashka

02/01/86

05/01/86

4700

Nuclear ground test, pre-launch simulation. ACS startup and operation. Steady state test. Post-operation disassembly and examination.

(??)-39

3

Serial 15

1.5

37

3

Inverted

Talinn

special

special

special

special

special

Fabrication begin in Estonia, with some changed components. After changes, system name changed to Eh-41, and serial number changed to 17. Significant reactor changes.

Eh-40

3

Serial 16

1.5

37

3

Inverted

Talinn

Cold temp, coolant flow

?

01/03/88

12/31/88

?

Cold temperature testing. No electrical testing. Filled with NaK during second stage of fabrication.

Eh-41

3

Serial 17

1.5

37

3

Inverted

Talinn

Mechanical, Leak

Baikal, Mechanical

01/01/88

?

?

Began life as Eh(?)-39, post-retrofit designation. Transportation (railroad) dynamic, and impact testing. Leak testing done post-mechanical testing. First use of increased shield mass.

Eh-42

3

Serial 18

1.5

37

3

Inverted

Talinn

n/a

n/a

Critical component welding failure during fabrication. Unit never used.

Unit Name

Generation

Series #

Core Life

# of TFEs

TFE Generation

ACS Unit

Launch configuration

Manufacturing location

Test type

Test stand

Testing begin

Testing end

Testing duration

System notes

Ya-21u

4

Serial 19

3

37

4

Inverted

Talinn

Electrical

Baikal

12/01/87

12/01/89

?

First Gen 4 reactor using modified TFEs. Electrical testing on TFEs conducted. New end-cap insulation on TFEs tested.

Eh-43

4

Serial 20

3

37

4

Inverted

Talinn

n/a

6/30/88 (? Unclear what testing is indicated)

n/a

n/a

n/a

Flight unit. First fabrication phase in Talinn completed, second incomplete as of 1994

Eh-44

4

Serial 21

3

37

4

Inverted

Talinn

n/a

n/a

n/a

n/a

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Flight unit. First fabrication phase in Talinn completed, second incomplete as of 1994

Eh(?)-45

4

Serial 22

3

37

4

Inverted

Talinn

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Partially fabricated unit with missing components.

Not many fine details are known about the testing of these systems, but we do have some information about the tests that led to significant design changes. These changes are best broken down by power plant subsystem, because while there’s significant interplay between these various subsystems their functionality can change in minor ways quite easily without affecting the plant as a whole. Those systems are: the thermionic fuel elements, the moderator, the pressure vessel, the shield, the coolant loop (which includes the radiator piping), the radiator coatings, the launch configuration, the cesium unit, and the automatic control system (including the sensors for the system and the drum drive units). While this seems like a lot of systems to cover, many of them have very little information about their design history to pass on, so it’s less daunting than it initially appears.

Thermionic Fuel Elements

It should come as no surprise that the thermionic fuel elements (TFEs) were extensively modified throughout the testing program. One of the big problems was short circuiting across the inter-electrode gap due to fuel swelling, although other problems occurred to cause short circuits as well.

Perhaps the biggest change was the change from 31 to 37 TFEs in the core, one of the major changes to minimize fuel swelling. The active core length (where the pellets were) was increased by up to 40 mm (from 335 mm to 375 mm), the inter-electrode gap was widened by 0.05 mm (from 0.45 to 0.5 mm). In addition, the hole through the center of the fuel element was increased in diameter to allow for greater internal swelling, reducing the mechanical stress on the emitter.

The method of attaching the bellows for thermal expansion were modified (the temperature was dropped 10 K) to prevent crystalization of the palladium braze and increase bellows thermal cycling capability after failures on the Ya-24 system (1977-1981).

Perhaps the biggest change was to the materials used in the TFE. The emitter started off as a polycrystaline molybdenum in the first two generations of reactors, but the grain boundaries between the Mo crystals caused brittleness over time. Because of this, they developed the capability to use monocrystalline Mo, which improved performance in the early third generation of reactors – just not enough. In the final version seen in later 3rd generation and fourth generation systems, the Mo was doped with 3% niobium, which created the best available material for the emitter.

There were many other changes during the development of the thermionic fuel elements, including the addition of coatings on some materials for corrosion resistance, changes in electrical insulation type, and others, but these were the most significant in terms of functionality of the TFEs, and their impact on the overall systems design.

ZrH Moderator

The zirconium hydride neutron moderator was placed around the outside of the core. Failures were observed several times in testing, including the Ya-23 test, which resulted in loss of hydrogen in the core and the permanent shutdown of that reactor. Overpower issues, combined with a loss of coolant, led to moderator failure in Ya-82 as well, but in this case the improved H barriers used in the stainless steel “cans” holding the ZrH prevented a loss of hydrogen accident despite the ZrH breaking up (the failure was due to the ZrH being spread more thinly across the reactor, not the loss of H due to ZrH damage).

This development process was one of the least well documented areas of the Soviet program.

Reactor Vessel

Again, this subsystem’s development seems poorly documented. The biggest change, though, seems to be changing the way the triple coating (of chrome, then nickel, then enamel) was applied to the stainless steel of the reactor vessel. This was due to the failure of the Ya-23 unit, which failed at the join between the tube and the end of the tube on one of the TFEs. The crack self-sealed, but for future units the coatings didn’t go all the way to the weld, and the hot CO2 used as a cover gas was allowed to carbonize the steel to prevent fatigue cracking.

Radiation Shield

The LiH component of the radiation shield (for neutron shielding) seems to not have changed much throughout the development of the reactor. The LiH was contained in a 1.5 mm thick stainless steel casing, polished on the ends for reflectivity and coated black on the outside face.

However, the design of the stainless steel casing was changed in the early 1980s to meet more stringent payload gamma radiation doses. Rather than add a new material such as tungsten or depleted uranium as is typical, the designers decided to just thicken the reactor and spacecraft sides of the LiH can to 65 mm and 60 mm respectively. While this was definitely less mass-efficient than using W or U, the manufacturing change was fairly trivial to do with stainless steel, and this was considered the most effective way to ensure the required flux rates with the minimum of engineering challenges.

The first unit to use this was the E-41, fabricated in 1985, which was also the first unit to be tested in the inverted flight configuration. The heavier shield, combined with the new position, led to the failure of one of the shield-to-reactor brackets, as well as the attachment clips for the radiator piping. These components were changed, and no further challenges occurred with the shield in the rest of the test program.

Coolant Loop

The NaK coolant loop was the biggest source of headaches dueing the development of the Enisy. A brief list of failures, and actions taken to correct them, is here:

V-11 (July 1971-February 1972): A weld failed at the join between the radiator tubing and collector during thermophysical testing. The double weld was changed to a triple weld to correct the failure mode.

Ya-21 (1971): This reactor seemed to have everything go wrong with it. Another leak at the same tube-to-collector interface led to the welding on of a small sleeve to repair the crack. This fix seemed to solve the problem of failures in that location.

Ya-23 (March 1975-June 1976): Coolant leak between coolant tube and moderator cavity. Both coating changes and power ramp-up limits eliminated issues.

V-71 (January 1981-1994?): NaK leak in radiator tube after 290 hours of testing. Plugged, testing continued. New leak occurred 210 test hours later, radiator examined under x-ray. Two additional poorly-manufactured tubes replaced with structural supports. One of test reactors sent to US under Topaz International.

Ya-81 (September 1980-January 1983): Two radiator pipe leaks 180 hours into nuclear testing (no pre-nuclear thermophysical testing of unit). Piping determined to be of lower quality after switching manufacturers. Post-repair, the unit ran for 12,500 hours in nuclear power operation.

Ya-82 (September 1983 to November 1984): Slow leak led to coolant pump voiding and oscillations, then one of six pump inlet lines being split. There were two additional contributions to this failure: the square surfaces were pressed into shape from square pipes, which can cause stress microfractures at the corners, and second the inlet pump was forced into place, causing stress fracturing at the joint. This failure led to reactor overheating due to a loss-of-coolant condition, and led to the failure of the ZrH moderator blocks. This led to increased manufacturing controls on the pump assembly, and no further major pump failures were noted in the remainder of the testing.

Eh-38 (February 1986-August 1986): This failure is a source of some debate among the Russian specialists. Some believe it was a slow leak that began shortly after startup, while others believe that it was a larger leak that started at some point toward the end of the 4700 hour nuclear test. The exact location of the leak was never located, however it’s known that it was in the upper collector of the radiator assembly.

Ya-21u (December 1987-December 1989): Caustic stress-corrosion cracking occurred about a month and a half into thermophysical testing in the lower collector assembly, likely caused by a coating flaw growing during thermal cycling. This means that subsurface residual stresses existed within the collector itself. Due to the higher-than-typical (by U.S. standards) carbon content in the stainless steel (the specification allowed for 0.08%-0.12% carbon, rather than the less than 0.8% carbon content in the U.S. SS-321), the steel was less ductile than was ideal, which could have been a source of the flaw growing as it did. Additionally, increased oxygen levels in the NaK coolant could have exacerbated the problem more as well. A combination of ensuring that heat treatments had occurred post-forming, as well as ensuring a more oxygen-poor environment, were essential to reducing the chances of this failure happening again.

Radiator

Pen and ink diagram of radiator, image DOD

The only known data poing on the radiator development was during the Ya-23 test, where the radiator coating changed the nuclear properties of the system at elevated temperature (how is unknown). This was changed to something that would be less affected by the radiation environment. The final radiator configuration was a chrome and polymer substrate with an emissivity of 0.85 at beginning of life.

Launch configuration

As we saw, the orientation that the reactor was to be launched in was changed from upright to inverted, with the boom to connect the reactor to the spacecraft being side by side inside the payload fairing. This required the thermal cover used to prevent the NaK from freezing to be redesigned, and modified after the V-13 test, when it was discovered to not be able to prevent freezing of the coolant. The new cover was verified on the V-15 tests, and remained largely unchanged after this.

Some of the load-bearing brackets needed to be changed or reinforced as well, and the clips used to secure the radiator pipes to the structural components of the radiator.

Cesium Supply Unit

For the TFEs to work properly, it was critical that the Cs vapor pressure was within the right pressure range relative tot he temperature of the reactor core. This system was designed from first physical principles, leading to a novel structure that used temperature and pressure gradients to operate. While initially throttleable, but there were issues with this functionality during the Ya-24 nuclear test. This changed when it was discovered that there was an ideal pressure setting for all power levels, so the feed pressure was fixed. Sadly, on the Ya-81 test the throttle was set too high, leading to the need to cool the Cs as it returned to the reservoir.

Additional issues were found in the startup subsystem (a single-use puncture valve) used to vent the inert He gas from the interelectrode gap (this was used during launch and before startup to prevent Cs from liquefying or freezing in the system), as well as to balance the Cs pressure by venting it into space at a rate of about 0.4 g/day. The Ya-23 test saw a sensor not register the release of the He, leading to an upgraded spring for the valve.

Finally, the mission lifetime extension during the 1985/86 timeframe tripled the required lifetime of the system, necessitating a much larger Cs reservoir to account for Cs venting. This went from having 0.455 g to 1 kg. These were tested on Ya-21u and Eh-44, despite one (military) customer objecting due to insufficient testing of the upgraded system. This system would later be tested and found to be acceptable as part of the Topaz International program.

Automatic Control System

The automatic control system, or ACS, was used for automatic startup and autonomous reactor power management, and went through more significant changes than any other system, save perhaps the thermionic fuel elements. The first ACS, called the SAU-35, was used for the Ya-23 ground test, followed by the SAU-105 for the Eh-31 and Ya-24 tests. Problems arose, however, because these systems were manufactured by the Institute for Instrument Building of the Ministry of Aviation Construction, while the Enisy program was under the purview of the Ministry of Atomic Energy, and bureaucratic problems reared their heads.

This led the Enisy program to look to the Sukhumi Institute (who, if you remember, were the institute that started both the Topol and Enisy programs in the 1960s before control was transferred elsewhere) for the next generation of ACS. During this transition, the Ya-81 ground nuclear test occurred, but due to the bureaucratic wrangling, manufacturer change, and ACS certification tests there was no unit available for the test. This led the Ya-81 reactor to be controlled from the ground station. The Ya-82 test was the first to use a prototype Sukhumi-built ACS, with nine startups being successfully performed by this unit.

The loss-of-cooling accident potentially led to the final major change to the ACS for the Eh-38 test: the establishment of an upper temperature limit. After this, the dead-band was increased to allow greater power drift in the reactor (reducing the necessary control drum movement), as well as some minor modifications rerouting the wires to ensure proper thermocouple sensor readings, were the final significant modifications before Topaz International started.

Sensors

The sensors on the Enisy seem to have been regularly problematic, but rather than replace them, they were either removed or left as instrumentation sensors rather than control sensors. These included the volume accumulator sensors on the stainless steel bellows for the thermionic fuel elements (which were removed), and the set of sensors used to monitor the He gas in the TFE gas gap (for fission product buildup), the volume accumulator (which also contained Ar), and the radiation shield. This second set of sensors was kept in place, but was only able to measure absolute changes, not precise measurements, so was not useful for the ACS.

Control Drive Unit

The control drive unit was responsible for the positioning of the control drums, both on startup as well as throughout the life of the reactor to maintain appropriate reactivity and power levels. Like in the SNAP program, these drive systems were a source of engineering headaches.

Perhaps the most recurring problem during the mid-1970s was the failure of the position sensor for the drive system, which was used to monitor the rotational position of the drum relative to the core. This failed in the Ya-20, Ya-21, and Ya-23, after which it was replaced with a sensor of a new design and the problem isn’t reported again. The Ya-81 test saw the loss of the Ar gas used as the initial lubricant in the drive system, and later seizing of the bearing the drive system connected to, leading to its replacement with a graphite-based lubricant.

The news wasn’t all bad, however. The Eh-40 test demonstrated greater control of drum position by reducing the backlash in the kinematic circuit, for instance, and improvements to the materials and coatings used eliminated problems of coating delamination, improving the system’s resistance to thermal cycling and vibrational stresses, and radiator coating issues.

The Eh-44 drive unit was replaced against the advice of one of the Russian customers due to a lack of mandatory testing on the advanced drive system. This system remained installed at the time of Topaz International, and is something that we’ll look at in the next blog post.

A New Customer Enters the Fold

During this testing, an American company (which is not named) was approached about possibly purchasing nearly complete Enisy reactors: the only thing that the Soviets wouldn’t sell was the fissile fuel itself, and that they would help with the manufacturing on. This was in addition to the three Russian customers (at least one of which was military, but again all remain unnamed). This company did not purchase any units, but did go to the US government with this offer.

This led to the Topaz International program, funded by the US Department of Defense’s Ballistic Missile Defense Organization. The majority of the personnel involved were employees of Los Alamos and Sandia National Laboratories, and the testing occurred at Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, NM.

As a personal note, I was just outside the perimeter fence when the aircraft carrying the test stand and reactors landed, and it remains one of the formational events in my childhood, even though I had only the vaguest understanding of what was actually happening, or that some day, more than 20 years, later, I would be writing about this very program, which I saw reach a major inflection point.

The Topaz International program will be the subject of our next blog post. It’s likely to be a longer one (as this was), so it may take me a little longer than a week to get out, but the ability to compare and contrast Soviet and American testing standards on the same system is too golden an opportunity to pass up.

Stay tuned! More is coming soon!

References:

Topaz II Design Evolution, Voss 1994 https://www.researchgate.net/publication/234517721_TOPAZ_II_Design_Evolution

Russian Topaz II Test Program, Voss 1993 http://gnnallc.com/pdfs_r/SD%2006%20LA-UR-93-3398.pdf

Overview of the Nuclear Electric Propulsion Space Test Program, Voss 1994 https://www.osti.gov/servlets/purl/10157573

Thermionic System Evaluation Test: Ya-21U System, Topaz International Program, Schmidt et al 1996 http://www.dtic.mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/b222940.pdf

Categories
Development and Testing Fission Power Systems History Nuclear Electric Propulsion

SNAP-50: The Last of the SNAP Reactors

Hello, and welcome to Beyond NERVA, for our first blog post of the year! Today, we reach the end of the reactor portion of the SNAP program. A combination of the holidays and personal circumstances prevented me from finishing this post as early as I would have liked to, but it’s finally here! Check the end of the blog post for information on an upcoming blog format change. [Author’s note: somehow the references section didn’t attach to the original post, that issue is now corrected, and I apologize, references are everything in as technical a field as this.]

The SNAP-50 was the last, and most powerful, of the SNAP series of reactors, and had a very different start when compared to the other three reactors that we’ve looked at. A fifth reactor, SNAP-4, also underwent some testing, but was meant for undersea applications for the Navy. The SNAP-50 reactor started life in the Aircraft Nuclear Propulsion program for the US Air Force, and ended its life with NASA, as a power plant for the future modular space station that NASA was planning before the budget cuts of the mid to late 1970s took hold.

Because it came from a different program originally, it also uses different technology than the reactors we’ve looked at on the blog so far: uranium nitride fuel, and higher-temperature, lithium coolant made this reactor a very different beast than the other reactors in SNAP. However, these changes also allowed for a more powerful reactor, and a less massive power plant overall, thanks to the advantages of the higher-temperature design. It was also the first major project to move the space reactor development process away from SNAP-2/10A legacy designs.

The SNAP-50 would permanently alter the way that astronuclear reactors were designed, and would change the course of in-space reactor development for over 20 years. By the time of its cancellation in 1973, it had approached flight readiness to the point that funding and time allowed, but changes in launch vehicle configuration rang the death knell of the SNAP-50.

The Birth of the SNAP-50

Mockup of SNAP-50, image DOE

Up until now, the SNAP program had focused on a particular subset of nuclear reactor designs. They were all fueled with uranium-zirconium hydride fuel (within a small range of uranium content, all HEU), cooled with NaK-78, and fed either mercury Rankine generators or thermoelectric power conversion systems. This had a lot of advantages for the program: fuel element development improvements for one reactor could be implemented in all of them, challenges in one reactor system that weren’t present in another allowed for distinct data points to figure out what was going on, and the engineers and reactor developers were able to look at each others’ work for ideas on how to improve reliability, efficiency, and other design questions.

Tory IIA reactor inlet end, image DOE

However, there was another program that was going on at about the same time which had a very different purpose, but similar enough design constraints that it could be very useful for an in-space fission power plant: the Aircraft Nuclear Propulsion program (ANP), which was primarily run out of Oak Ridge National Laboratory. Perhaps the most famous part of the ANP program was the series of direct cycle ramjets for Project PLUTO: the TORY series. These ramjets were nuclear fission engines using the atmosphere itself as the working fluid. There were significant challenges to this approach, because the clad for the fuel elements must not fail, or else the fission products from the fuel elements would be released as what would be virtually identical to nuclear fallout, only different due to the method that it was generated. The fuel elements themselves would be heavily eroded by the hot air moving through the reactor (which turned out to be a much smaller problem than was initially anticipated). The advantage to this system, though, is that it was simple, and could be made to be relatively lightweight.

Another option was what was known as the semi-indirect cycle, where the reactor would heat a working fluid in a closed loop, which would then heat the air through a heat exchanger built into the engine pod. While this was marginally safer from a fission product release point of view, there were a number of issues with the design. The reactor would have to run at a higher temperature than the direct cycle, because there are always losses whenever you transfer heat from one working fluid to another, and the increased mass of the system also required greater thrust to maintain the desired flight characteristics. The primary coolant loop would become irradiated when going through the reactor, leading to potential irradiation of the air as it passed through the heat exchanger. Another concern was that the heat exchanger could fail, leading to the working fluid (usually a liquid metal) being exposed at high temperature to the superheated air, where it could easily explode. Finally, if a clad failure occurred in the fuel elements, fission products could migrate into the working fluid, making the primary loop even more radioactive, increasing the irradiation of the air as it passed through the engine – and releasing fission products into the atmosphere if the heat exchanger failed.

The alternative to these approaches was an indirect cycle, where the reactor heated a working fluid in a closed loop, transferred this to another working fluid, which then heated the air. The main difference between these systems is that, rather than having the possibly radioactive primary coolant come in close proximity with the air and therefore transferring ionizing radiation, there is an additional coolant loop to minimize this concern, at the cost of both mass and thermal efficiency. This setup allowed for far greater assurances that the air passing through the engine would not be irradiated, because the irradiation of the secondary coolant loop would be so low as to be functionally nonexistent. However, if the semi-indirect cycle was more massive, this indirect cycle would be the heaviest of all of the designs, meaning far higher power outputs and temperatures were needed in order to get the necessary thrust-to-weight ratios for the aircraft. Nevertheless, from the point of view of the people responsible for the ANP program, this was the most attractive design for a crewed aircraft.

Both SNAP and ANP needed many of the same things out of a nuclear reactor: it had to be compact, it had to be lightweight, it had to have a VERY high power density and it needed to be able to operate virtually maintenance-free in a variety of high-power conditions. These requirements are in stark contrast to terrestrial, stationary nuclear reactors which can afford heavy weight, voluminous construction and can thus benefit of low power density. As a general rule of thumb, an increase in power density, will also intensify the engineering, materials, and maintenance challenges. The fact that the ANP program needed high outlet temperatures to run a jet engine also bore the potential of having a large thermal gradient across a power conversion system – meaning that high-conversion-efficiency electrical generation was possible. That led SNAP program leaders to see about adapting an aircraft system into a spacecraft system.

Image DOE

The selected design was under development at the Connecticut Advanced Nuclear Engine Laboratory (CANEL) in Middletown, Connecticut. The prime contractor was Pratt and Whitney. Originally part of the indirect-cycle program, the challenges of heat exchanger design, adequate thrust, and a host of other problems continually set back the indirect cycle program, and when the ANP program was canceled in 1961, Pratt and Whitney no longer had a customer for their reactor, despite doing extensive testing and even fabricating novel alloys to deal with certain challenges that their reactor design presented. This led them to look for another customer for the reactor, and they discovered that both NASA and the US Air Force were both interested in high-power-density, high temperature reactors for in-space use. Both were interested in this high powered reactor, and the SNAP-50 was born.

PWAR-20 cross-section and elevation, image DOE

This reactor was an evolution of a series of test reactors, the PWAR series of test reactors. Three reactors (the PWAR-2, -4, and -8, for 2, 4, and 8 MW of thermal power per reactor core) had already been run for initial design of an aircraft reactor, focused on testing not only the critical geometry of the reactor, but the materials needed to contain its unique (at the time) coolant: liquid lithium. This is because lithium has an excellent specific heat capacity, or the amount of energy that can be contained as heat per unit mass at a given temperature: 3.558 J/kg-C, compared to the 1.124 J/kg-C of NaK78, the coolant of the other SNAP reactors. This means that less coolant would be needed to transport the energy away from the reactor and into the engine in the ANP program, and for SNAP this meant that less working fluid mass would be needed transferring from the reactor to the power conversion system. The facts that Li is much less massive than NaK, and that less of it would be needed, makes lithium a highly coveted option for an astronuclear reactor design. However, this design decision also led to needing novel concepts for how to contain liquid lithium. Even compared to NaK, lithium is highly toxic, highly corrosive in most materials and led, during the ANP program, to Pratt and Whitney investigating novel elemental compositions for their containment structures. We’ll look at just what they did later.

SNAP-50: Designing the Reactor Core

This reactor ended up using a form of fuel element that we have yet to look at in this blog: uranium nitride, UN. While both UC (you can read more about carbide fuels here) and UN were considered at the beginning of the program, the reactor designers ended up settling on UN because of a unique capacity that this fuel form offers: it has the highest fissile fuel density of any type of fuel element. This is offset by the fact that UN isn’t the most heat tolerant of fuel elements, requiring a lower core operating temperature. Other options were considered as well, including CERMET fuels using oxides, carbides, and nitrides suspended in a tungsten metal matrix to increase thermal conductivity and reduce the temperature of the fissile fuel itself. The decision between UN, with its higher mass efficiency (due to its higher fissile density), and uranium carbide (UC), with the highest operating temperature of any solid fuel element, was a difficult decision, and a lot of fuel element testing occurred at CANEL before a decision was reached. After a lot of study, it was determined that UN in a tungsten CERMET fuel was the best balance of high fissile fuel density, high thermal conductivity, and the ability to manage low fuel burnup over the course of the reactor’s life.

From SNAP-50/SPUR Design Summary

Perhaps the most important design consideration for the fuel elements after the type of fuel was how dense the fuel would be, and how to increase the density if this was desired in the final design. While higher density fuel is generally speaking a better idea when it comes to specific power, it was discovered that the higher density the fuel was, the lower the amount of burnup would be possible before the fuel would fail due to fission product gas buildup within the fuel itself. Initial calculations showed that there was an effectively unlimited fuel burnup potential of UN at 80% of its theoretical density since a lot of the gasses could diffuse out of the fuel element. However, once the fuel reached 95% density, this was limited to 1% fuel burnup. Additional work was done to determine that this low burnup was in fact not a project killer for a 10,000 hour reactor lifetime, as was specified by NASA, and the program moved ahead.

These fuel pellets needed a cladding material, as most fuel does, and this led to some additional unique materials challenges. With the decision to use lithium coolant, and the need for both elasticity and strength in the fuel element cladding (to deal with both structural loads and fuel swelling), it was necessary to do extensive experimentation on the metal that would be used for the clad. Eventually, a columbium-zirconium alloy with a small amount of carbon (CB-1ZR-0.6C) was decided on as a barrier between the Cb-Zr alloy of the clad (which resisted the high-temperature lithium erosion on the pressure vessel side of the clad) and the UN-W CERMET fuel (which would react strongly without the carburized layer).

This decisions led to an interesting reactor design, but not necessarily one that is unique from a non-materials point of view. The fuel would be formed into high-density pellets, which would then be loaded into a clad, with a spring to keep the fuel to the bottom (spacecraft end) of the reactor. The gap between the top of the fuel elements and the top of the clad was for the release of fission product gasses produced during operation of the reactor. These rods would be loaded in a hexagonal prism pattern into a larger collection of fuel elements, called a can. Seven of these cans, placed side by side (one regular hexagon, surrounded by six slightly truncated hexagons), would form the fueled portion of the reactor core. Shims of beryllium would shape the core into a cylinder, which was surrounded by a pressure vessel and lateral reflectors. Six poison-backed control drums mounted within the reflector would rotate to provide reactor control. Should the reactor need to be scrammed, a spring mechanism would return all the drums to a position with the neutron poison facing the reactor, stopping fission from occurring.

SNAP-50 flow diagram, image DOE

The lithium, after being heated to a temperature of 2000°F (1093°C), would feed into a potassium boiler, before being returned to the core at an inlet temperature of 1900 F (1037°C). From the boiler, the potassium vapor, which is 1850°F (1010°C), would enter a Rankine turbine which would produce electricity. The potassium vapor would cool down to 1118°F (603°C) in the process and return – condensed to its liquid form – to the boiler, thus closing the circulation. Several secondary coolant loops were used in this reactor: the main one was for the neutron reflectors, shield actuators, control drums, and other radiation hardened equipment, and used NaK as a coolant; this coolant was also used as a lubricant for the condensate pump in the potassium system. Another, lower temperature organic coolant was used for other systems that weren’t in as high a radiation flux. The radiators that were used to reject heat also used NaK as a working fluid, and were split into a primary and secondary radiator array. The primary array pulled heat from the condenser, and reduced it from 1246°F (674°C) to 1096°F (591°C), while the secondary array took the lower-temperature coolant from 730°F (388°C) to 490°F (254°C). This design was designed to operate in both single and dual loop situations, with the second (identical) loop used for high powered operation and to increase redundancy in the power plant.

These design decisions led to a flexible reactor core size, and the ability to adapt to changing requirements from either NASA or the USAF, both of which were continuing to show interest in the SNAP-50 for powering the new, larger space stations that were becoming a major focus of both organizations.

The Power Plant: Getting the Juice Flowing

By 1973, the SNAP 2/10A program had ended, and the SNAP-8/ZrHR program was winding down. These systems simply didn’t provide enough power for the new, larger space station designs that were being envisaged by NASA, and the smaller reactor sizes (the 10B advanced designs that we looked at a couple blog posts back, and the 5 kWe Thermoelectric Reactor) didn’t provide capabilities that were needed at the time. This left the SNAP-50 as the sole reactor design that was practical to take on a range of mission types… but there was a need to have different reactor power outputs, so the program ended up developing two reactor sizes. The first was a 35 kWe reactor design, meant for smaller space stations and lunar bases, although this particular part of the 35 kWe design seems to have never been fully fleshed out. A larger, 300 kWe type was designed for NASA’s proposed modular space station, a project which would eventually evolve into the actual ISS.

Unlike in the SNAP-2 and SNAP-8 programs, the SNAP-50 kept its Rankine turbine design, which had potassium vapor as its working fluid. This meant that the power plant was able to meet its electrical power output requirements far more easily than the lower efficiency demanded by thermoelectric conversion systems. The CRU system meant for the SNAP-2 ended up reaching its design requirements for reliability and life by this time, but sadly the overall program had been canceled, so there was no reactor to pair to this ingenious design (sadly, it’s so highly toxic that testing would be nearly impossible on Earth). The boiler, pumps, and radiators for the secondary loop were tested past the 10,000 hour design lifetime of the power plant, and all major complications discovered during the testing process were addressed, proving that the power conversion system was ready for the next stage of testing in a flight configuration.

One concern that was studied in depth was the secondary coolant loop’s tendency to become irradiated in the neutron flux coming off the reactor. Potassium has a propensity for absorbing neutrons, and in particular 41K (6% of unrefined K) can capture a neutron and become 42K. This is a problem, because 42K goes through gamma decay, so anywhere that the secondary coolant goes needs to have gamma radiation shielding to prevent the radiation from reaching the crew. This limited where the power conversion system could be mounted, to keep it inside the gamma shielding of the temporary, reactor-mounted shield, however the compact nature of both the reactor core and the power conversion system meant that this was a reasonably small concern, but one worthy of in-depth examination by the design team.

The power conversion system and auxiliary equipment, including the actuators for the control drums, power conditioning equipment, and other necessary equipment was cooled by a third coolant loop, which used an organic coolant (basically the oil needed for the moving parts to be lubricated), which ran through its own set of pumps and radiators. This tertiary loop was kept isolated from the vast majority of the radiation flux coming off the reactor, and as such wasn’t a major concern for irradiation damage of the coolant/lubricant.

Some Will Stay, Some Will Go: Mounting SNAP-50 To A Space Station

SNAP50 mounted to early NASA modular space station concept, image DOE

Each design used a 4-pi (a fully enclosing) shield with a secondary shadow shield pointing to the space station in order to reduce radiation exposure for crews of spacecraft rendezvousing or undocking from the space station. This primary shield was made out of a layer of beryllium to reflect neutrons back into the core, and boron carbide (B4C, enriched in boron-10) to absorb the neutrons that weren’t reflected back into the core. These structures needed to be cooled to ensure that the shield wouldn’t degrade, so a NaK shield coolant system (using technology adapted from the SNAP-8 program) was used to keep the shield at an acceptable temperature.

The shadow shield was built in two parts: the entire structure would be launched at the same time for the initial reactor installation for the space station, and then when the reactor needed to be replaced only a portion of the shield would be jettisoned with the reactor. The remainder, as well as the radiators for the reactor’s various coolant systems, would be kept mounted to the space station in order to reduce the amount of mass that needed to be launched for the station resupply. The shadow shield was made out of layers of tungsten and LiH, for gamma and neutron shielding respectively.

Image DOE

When it came time to replace the core of the reactor at the end of its 10,000 hour design life (which was a serious constraint on the UN fuels that they were working with due to fuel burnup issues), everything from the separation plane back would be jettisoned. This could theoretically have been dragged to a graveyard orbit by an automated mission, but the more likely scenario at the time would have been to leave it in a slowly degrading orbit to give the majority of the short-lived isotopes time to decay, and then design it to burn up in the atmosphere at a high enough altitude that diffusion would dilute the impact of any radioisotopes from the reactor. This was, of course, before the problems that the USSR ran into with their US-A program [insert link], which eliminated this lower cost decommissioning option.

Image DOE

After the old reactor core was discarded, the new core, together with the small forward shield and power conversion system, could be put in place using a combination of off-the-shelf hardware, which at the time was expected to be common enough: either Titan-III or Saturn 1B rockets, with appropriate upper stages to handle the docking procedure with the space station. The reactor would then be attached to the radiator, the docking would be completed, and within 8 hours the reactor would reach steady-state operations for another 10,000 hours of normal use. The longest that the station would be running on backup power would be four days. Unfortunately, information on the exact docking mechanism used is thin, so the details on how they planned this stage are still somewhat hazy, but there’s nothing preventing this from being done.

A number of secondary systems, including accumulators, pumps, and other equipment are mounted along with the radiator in the permanent section of the power supply installation. Many other systems, especially anything that has been exposed to a large radiation flux or high temperatures during operation (LiH, the primary shielding material, loses hydrogen through outgassing at a known rate depending on temperature, and can almost be said to have a half-life), will be separated with the core, but everything that was practicable to leave in place was kept.

This basic design principle for reloadable (which in astronuclear often just means “replaceable core”) reactors will be revisited time and again for orbital installations. Variations on the concept abound, although surface power units seem to favor “abandon in place” far more. In the case of large future installations, it’s not unreasonable to suspect that refueling of a reactor core would be possible, but at this point in astronuclear mission utilization, even having this level of reusability was an impressive feat.

35 kWe SNAP-50: The Starter Model

In the 1960s, having 35 kWe of power for a space station was considered significant enough to supply the vast majority of mission needs. Because of this, a smaller version of the SNAP-50 was designed to fit this mission design niche. While the initial power plant would require the use of a Saturn 1B to launch it into orbit, the replacement reactors could be launched on either an Atlas-Centaur or Titan IIIA-Centaur launch vehicle. This was billed as a low cost option, as a proof of concept for the far larger – and at this point, far less fully tested – 300 kWe version to come.

NASA was still thinking of very large space stations at this time. The baseline crew requirements alone were incredible: 24-36 crew, with rotations lasting from 3 months to a year, and a station life of five years. While 35 kWe wouldn’t be sufficient for the full station, it would be an attractive option. Other programs had looked at nuclear power plants for space stations as well, like we saw with the Manned Orbiting Laboratory and the Orbital Workshop (later Skylab), and facilities of that size would be good candidates for the 35 kWe system.

The core itself measured 8.3 inches (0.211 m) across, 11.2 inches (0.284 m) long, and used 236 fuel elements arranged into seven fuel element cans within the pressure vessel of the core. Six poison-backed control drums were used for primary reactor control. The core would produce up to 400 kW of thermal power. The pressure vessel, control drums, and all other control and reflective materials together measured just 19.6 inches (4.98 m) by 27.9 inches (7.09 m), and the replaceable portion of the reactor was between four and five feet (1.2 m and 1.5 m) tall, and five and six feet (1.5 m and 1.8 m) across – including shielding.

SNAP-50 powered probe concept, image DOE

This reactor could also have been a good prototype reactor for a nuclear electric probe, a concept that will be revisited later, although there’s little evidence that this path was ever seriously explored. Like many smaller reactor designs, this one did not get the amount of attention that its larger brother offered, but at the time this was considered a good, solid space station power supply.

300 kWe SNAP-50: The Most Powerful Space Reactor to Date

While there were sketches for more powerful reactors than the 300 kWe SNAP-50 variant, they never really developed the reactors to any great extent, and certainly not to the point of experimental verification that SNAP-50 had achieved. This was considered to be a good starting point for possibly a crewed nuclear electric spacecraft, as well as being able to power a truly huge space station.

The 300 kWe variant of the reactor was slightly different in more than size when compared to its smaller brother. Despite using the same fuel, clad, and coolant as the 35 kWe system, the 300 kWe system could achieve over four times the fuel burnup of the smaller reactor (0.32% vs 1.3%), and had a higher maximum fuel power density as well, both of which have a huge impact on core lifetimes and dynamics. This was partially achieved by making the fuel elements almost half as narrow, and increasing the number of fuel elements to 1093, held in 19 cans within the core. This led to a core that was 10.2 inches (0.259 m) wide, and 14.28 inches (0.363 m) long (keeping the same 1:1.4 gore geometry between the reactors), and a pressure vessel that was 12” (0.305 m) in diameter by 43” (1.092 m) in length. It also increased the thermal output of the reactor to 2200 kWt. The number of control drums was increased from six to eight longer control drums to fit the longer core, and some rearrangement of lithium pumps and other equipment for the power conversion system occurred within the larger 4 pi shield structure. The entire reactor assembly that would undergo replacement was five to six feet high, and six to seven feet in diameter (1.5 m; 1.8 m; 2.1 m).

Lander-based SNAP-50 concept, image DOE

Sadly, even the ambitious NASA space station wasn’t big enough to need even the smaller 35 kWe version of the reactor, much less the 300 kWe variants. Plans had been made for a fleet of nuclear electric tugs that would ferry equipment back and forth to a permanent Moon base, but cancellation of that program occurred at the same time as the death of the moon base itself.

Mass Tradeoffs: Why Nuclear Instead of Solar?

By the middle of the 1960s, photovoltaic solar panels had become efficient and reliable enough for use in spacecraft on a regular basis. Because of this, it was a genuine question for the first time ever whether to go with solar panels or a nuclear reactor, whereas in the 1950s and early 60s nuclear was pretty much the only option. However, solar panels have a downside: drag. Even in orbit, there is a very thin atmosphere, and so for lower orbits a satellite has to regularly raise itself up or it will burn up in the atmosphere. Another down side comes from MM/OD: micro meteorites and orbital debris. Since solar panels are large, flat, and all pointing at the sun all the time, there’s a greater chance that something will strike one of those panels, damaging or possibly even destroying it. Managing these two issues is the primary concern of using solar panels as a power supply in terms of orbital behavior, and determines the majority of the refueling mass needed for a solar powered space station.

Image DOE, from SNAP-50 Design Summary

On the nuclear side, by 1965, there were two power plant options on the table: the SNAP-8 (pre-ZrHR redesign) and the SNAP-50, and solar photovoltaics had developed to the point that they could be deployed in space. Because of this, a comparison was done by Pratt and Whitney of the three systems to determine the mass efficiency of each system, not only in initial deployment but also in yearly fueling and tankage requirements. Each of the systems was compared at a 35 kWe power level to the space station in order to allow for a level playing field.

One thing that stands out about the solar system (based on a pair of Lockheed and General Electric studies) is that it’s marginally the lightest of all the systems at launch, but within a year the total system maintenance mass required far outstrips the mass of the nuclear power plants, especially the SNAP-50. This is because the solar panels have a large sail area, which catches the very thin atmosphere at the station’s orbital altitude and drags the station down into the thicker atmosphere, so thrust is needed to re-boost the space station. This is something that has to be done on a regular basis for the ISS. The mass of the fuel, tankage, and structure to allow for this reboost is extensive. Even back in 1965 there were discussions on using electric propulsion for the reboosting of the space station, in order to significantly reduce the mass needed for this procedure. That discussion is still happening casually with the ISS, and Ad Astra still hopes to use VASIMR for this purpose – a concept that’s been floated for the last ten or so years.

Overall, the mass difference between the SNAP-50 and the optimistic Lockheed proposal of the time was significant: the original deployment was only about 70 lbs (31.75 kg) different, but the yearly maintenance mass requirements would be 5,280 lbs (2395 kg) different – quite a large amount of mass.

Because the SNAP-50 and SNAP-8 don’t have these large sail areas, and the radiators needed can be made aerodynamically enough to greatly reduce the drag on the station, the reboost requirements are significantly lower than for the solar panels. The SNAP-50 weighs significantly less than the SNAP-8, and has significantly less surface area, because the reactor operates at a far higher temperature, and therefore needs a smaller radiator. Another difference between the reactors is volume: the SNAP-50 is physically smaller than the SNAP-8 because of that same higher temperature, and also due to the fact that the UN fuel is far more dense than its U-ZrH fueled counterpart.

These reactors were designed to be replaced once a year, with the initial launch being significantly more massive than the follow-up launches, benefitting of the sectioned architecture with a separation plane just at the small of the shadow shield as described above. Only the smaller section of shield remained with the reactor when it was separated. The larger, heavier section, on the other hand, would remain with the space station, as well as the radiators, and serve as the mounting point for the new reactor core and power conversion system, which would be sent via an automated refueling launch to the space station.

Solar panels, on the other hand, require both reboost to compensate for drag as well as equipment to repair or replace the panels, batteries, and associated components as they wear out. This in turn requires a somewhat robust repair capability for ongoing maintenance – a requirement for any large, long term space station, but the more area you have to get hit by space debris, which means more time and mass spent on repairs rather than doing science.

Of course, today solar panels are far lighter, and electric thrusters are also far more mature than they were at that time. This, in addition to widespread radiophobia, make solar the most widespread occurrence in most satellites, and all space stations, to date. However, the savings available in overall lifetime mass and a sail area that is both smaller and more physically robust, remain key advantages for a nuclear powered space station in the future

The End of an Era: Changing Priorities, Changing Funding

The SNAP-50, even the small 35 kWe version, offered more power, more efficiency, and less mass and volume than the most advanced of SNAP-8’s children: the A-ZrHR [Link]. This was the end of the zirconium hydride fueled reactor era for the Atomic Energy Commission, and while this type of fuel continues to be used in reactors all over the world in TRIGA research and training reactors (a common type of small reactor for colleges and research organizations), its time as the preferred fuel for astronuclear designs was over.

In fact, by the end of the study period, the SNAP-50 was extended to 1.5 MWe in some designs, the most powerful design to be proposed until the 1980s, and one of the most powerful ever proposed… but this ended up going nowhere, as did much of the mission planning surrounding the SNAP program.

At the same time as these higher-powered reactor designs were coming to maturity, funding for both civilian and military space programs virtually disappeared. National priorities, and perceptions of nuclear power, were shifting. Technological advances eliminated many future military crewed missions in favor of uncrewed ones with longer lifetimes, less mass, less cost – and far smaller power requirements. NASA funding began falling under the axe even as we were landing on the Moon for the first time, and from then on funding became very scarce on the ground.

The transition from the Atomic Energy Commission to the Department of Energy wasn’t without its hiccups, or reductions in funding, either, and where once every single AEC lab seemed to have its own family of reactor designs, the field narrowed greatly. As we’ll see, even at the start of Star Wars the reactor design was not too different from the SNAP-50.

Finally, the changes in launch system had their impact as well. NASA was heavily investing in the Space Transport System (the Space Shuttle), which was assumed to be the way that most or all payloads would be launched, so the nuclear reactor had to be able to be flown up – and in some cases returned – by the Shuttle. This placed a whole different set of constraints on the reactor, requiring a large rewrite of the basic design. The follow-on design, the SP-100, used the same UN fuel and Li coolant as the SNAP-50, but was designed to be launched and retrieved by the Shuttle. The fact that the STS never lived up to its promise in launch frequency or cost (and that other launchers were available continuously) means that this was ultimately a diversion, but at the time it was a serious consideration.

All of this spelled the death of the SNAP-50 program, as well as the end of dedicated research into a single reactor design until 1983, with the SP-100 nuclear reactor system, a reactor we’ll look at another time.

While I would love to go into many of the reactors that were developed up to this time, including heat pipe cooled reactors (SABRE at Los Alamos), thermionic power conversion systems (5 kWe Thermionic Reactor), and other ideas, there simply isn’t time to go into them here. As we look at different reactor components they’ll come up, and we’ll mention them there. Sadly, while some labs were able to continue funding some limited research with the help of NASA and sometimes the Department of Defense or the Defense Nuclear Safety Agency. The days of big astronuclear programs, though, were fading into a thing of the past. Both space and nuclear power would refocus, and then fade in the rankings of budgetary requirements over the years. We will be looking at these reactors more as time goes on, in our new “Forgotten Reactors” column (more on that below).

The Blog is Changing!

With the new year, I’ve been thinking a lot about the format of both the website and the blog, and where I hope to go in the next year. I’ve had several organizational projects on the back burner, and some of them are going to be started here soon. The biggest part is going to be the relationship between the blog and the website, and what I write more about where.

Expect another blog post shortly (it’s already written, just not edited yet) about our plans for the next year!

I’ve got big plans for Beyond NERVA this year, and there are a LOT of things that are slowly getting started in the background which will greatly improve the quality of the blog and the website, and this is just the start!

References

SNAP-50/SPUR Program Summary, Pratt and Whitney staff, 1964 https://www.osti.gov/servlets/purl/4307107

35 and 300 kWe SNAP-50/SPUR Power Plants for the Manned Orbiting Space Station Application, Pratt and Whitney staff, 1965 https://www.osti.gov/servlets/purl/4307103

Uranium Nitride Fuel Development SNAP-50, Pratt and Whitney staff, 1965
https://www.osti.gov/servlets/purl/4324037

SNAP Program Summary Report, Voss 1984 https://apps.dtic.mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a146831.pdf

Categories
Electric propulsion Fission Power Systems History Nuclear Electric Propulsion

Nuclear Electric Propulsion History Part 1: The Soviet Astronuclear Program

Hello, and welcome back to Beyond NERVA, where we’re getting back into issues directly related to nuclear power in space, rather than how that power is used (as we’ve examined in our last three blog posts on electric propulsion)! However, the new Electric Propulsion page is up on the website, including a summary of all the information that we’ve covered in the last three blog posts, which you can find here [Insert Link]! Also, each type of thruster has its own page as well for easier reference, which are all linked on that summary page! Make sure to check it out!

In this blog series, we’re going to look at nuclear electric power system reactor cores themselves. While we’ve looked at a number of designs for nuclear thermal reactor cores (insert link for NTR-S page), there are a number of differences in those reactor cores compared to ones that are designed purely for electricity production. Perhaps the biggest one is operating temperature, and therefor core lifetime, but because the coolant doesn’t have to be hydrogen, and because the amount of heat produced doesn’t have to be increased as much as possible (there will be a LOT more discussion on this concept in the next series on power conversion systems), the reactor can be run at cooler temperatures, preventing a large amount of thermally related headaches, which makes far more more materials available for the reactor core, and generally simplifying matters.

Nuclear electric power systems are also unique in that they’re the only type of fission powered electrical supply system that’s ever flown. We’ve mentioned those systems briefly before, but we’ll look at some of them more in depth today, and in the next post as well. While there have been many reactor designs proposed over the years, we’re going to focus on the programs developed by the USSR during the Cold War, since they have the longest operational history of any sort of fission-powered heat source in space.

The United States were the first to fly a nuclear reactor in space, the SNAPSHOT mission in 1963; but, sadly, another American reactor was never placed on a spacecraft. The Soviet program was far longer running, flying reactors almost continuously from 1970-1988, often two spacecraft at once. With the fall of the Berlin Wall, and the end of the Cold War, the Soviet astronuclear program ended, and Russia hasn’t flown another nuclear reactor since then. There was a time, though, in the 1990s, that a mission was on the books (but never funded to a sufficient level to have ever flown) to use US-purchased, Russian-built nuclear reactors for an American crewed moon base!

 

History of Soviet In-Space Fission Power Systems

From the beginning, the Soviet in-space nuclear power designers focused on two different design concepts for their power systems: single-cell thermal fuel elements and multi-cell thermal fuel elements. The biggest difference between the two is how many fuel elements are in each thermal fuel element system: the single cell design uses a single fuel element, while the multi-cell option uses multiple fuel elements, separated by passive spacers, moderation blocks, or thermionic power conversion systems. Both designs were extensively researched, and eventually flown, but the initial research focused on the multi-cell approach with the Romashka, (sometimes translated as “Chamomile,” other times as “Daisy”) reactor. This design type led to the BES-5 (Bouk, or “Beech,” flight reactor), whereas the single cell variation led to the TEU-5 TOPOL (TOPAZ-1), which flew twice, and ENISY (TOPAZ-2) reactor, and was later purchased by the US. We won’t be looking in-depth at the ENISY reactor in this post, despite its close relation to the TOPOL, because later in the blog series we’ll be focusing on it far more, the time the Americans bought two of them (and took out an option on another four) and how it could have powered an American lunar base in the 1990s, had the funding been available.

As is our wont here, let’s begin at the beginning, with one of Korolev’s pet projects and the first in-space reactor design of the USSR: Romashka.

 

Romashka: The Reactor that Started it All

 

Romashka 2
Romashka mockup

The Romashka (daisy or chamomile in English) was a Soviet adaptation of an American idea first developed in the US at Los Alamos Labs in the mid 1950s: in-core thermionic energy conversion. We’ll be looking at thermionics much more in-depth in the next post on power conversion systems, but the short version is that it combines a heat pipe (which we looked at in the Kilopower posts) with the tendency for an incandescent light to develop a static charge on its’ bulb. More on the conversion system itself in the next post; but, for now, it’s worth noting that this is a way to actually stick your power conversion system in the core of your reactor; and, as far as I’ve seen, it’s the only one.

Design on this reactor started in 1957, following a trip by Soviet scientists to Los Alamos (where thermionic energy conversion had been proposed, but not yet tested). The design offered the potential to have no moving parts, no pumps, and only needed conductive cooling from the reactor body for thermal management; all very attractive properties for a reactor that would not be able to be maintained for its lifetime. Work was begun at the Institute of Atomic Energy, I.V. Kurchatov in Moscow, but by the end of the program there were many design bureaus involved in the conceptual design, manufacturing, and testing of this reactor.

A series of disc-shaped uranium carbide (UC2) fuel elements were used in this reactor (90% 235U), with holes drilled through the center, and roughly halfway from the central hole of the disc to the edge of the fuel element. Both of these holes were used to thread the thermionic power conversion system through the core of the reactor. Spacing of the fuel elements was provided by a mixture of beryllium oxide and graphite, which was also used to slightly moderate the neutron spectrum – but the neutron spectrum in the reactor remained in the fast spectrum. Surrounding the reactor core itself, both radially and at the ends of the core, were beryllium reflectors. Boron and boron nitride control rods placed in the radial reflector and base axial reflector were used to maintain reactor control through the use of a hydraulic system, however a large negative thermal reactivity coefficient in the reactor core was also meant to largely control the reactor in the case of normal operations. Finally, the reactor was surrounded by a finned steel casing that provided all heat rejection through passive radiation – no pumps required! The nominal operating temperature of the reactor was meant to be between 1200 C and 1800 C at the center of the core, and about 800 C at the edges of the core at the ends of the cylinder.

Romashka 3
Core undergoing assembly, 1966

Construction and warm-critical tests were completed by April, 1966, and testing began in Moscow. There are some indications that materials incompatibilities in the first Romashka built led to the need to rebuild it with different materials, but it’s unclear what would have been changed (the only other reference, besides on a CIA document, to this is that the thermionic fuel element materials were changed in the reactor, so that may be what occurred – more on that in the direct power conversion post). This reactor underwent about 15,000 hours of testing, and in that time period it produced about 6,100 kWh of electricity at a relatively constant rate of 40 kW of thermal and 500-800 W of electrical power (1.5%-2% energy conversion efficiency). Initial testing (about 1200 hours) only rejected heat into a vacuum chamber using the fins’ radiative cooling capability; and testing of other reactor behavior particulars was carried out, including core self-regulation capability. Later tests (about 14,000 hours) were done using natural convection in a helium environment. During these tests, thermal deformation of the core and the reflector led to a reduction in reactivity, which was compensated for with the control system. By the end of the test cycle, electrical power production had dropped by 25%, and overall reactivity had dropped by 30%. Maximum sustained power production was about 450 W, and 88 amps, if all thermionic converters were activated, and pulsed power of up to 800 W was observed at the beginning of the actively controlled tests.

ustanovka-romashka_1
Reactor being installed in test containment vessel, 1966

Korolev planned to pair this reactor with a plasma pulsed power thruster (based on the time period, possibly a pulsed inductive thruster, or PIT, which we looked at briefly in the second blog post on electric propulsion systems). However, two things conspired to end the Romashka system: Korolev’s death in 1966 meant the loss of its’ most powerful proponent; and the development of the more powerful, more efficient Bouk reactor became advanced enough to make that design available for space travel in the same time frame.

While there were plans to adapt Romashka into a small power plant for remote outposts (the core was known as “Gamma”), the testing program ended in 1966, to be supplanted by the BES-5 “Beech”. The legacy of the Romashka reactor lives on, however, as the first successful design of a thermionic energy conversion system for in-core use, a test-bed for the development and testing of thermionic energy conversion materials (more on that in the first power conversion system post); and it remains the father and grandfather of all Russian in-space reactors to ever fly.

 

Bouk: The Most Flown Nuclear Reactor in History

Buk Cutaway
BES-5 Bouk cutaway diagram, image Rosatom

The Bouk (“Beech”) reactor, also known as the “Buk,” or BES-5 reactor, is arguably the most successful astronuclear design in history. Begun in 1960 by the Krasnya Zvesda Scientific and Propulsion Association, this reactor promised greater power output than the Romashka, at the cost of additional complexity, and requiring coolant to operate. From 1963 to 1969, testing of the fuel elements and reactor core was carried out without using the thermoelectric fuel elements (TFE), which were still under development. From 1968 to 1970, three reactor cores with full TFEs were tested at Baikal; and, with successful testing completed, the reactor design was prepared for launch, integrated into the Upravlenniye Sputnik Aktivny (US-A; in the West, RORSAT, for Radar Ocean Reconnaisance SATellite) spacecraft, designed to use radar for naval surveillance.

DOE Sketch based on KOSMOS 954
LLNL sketch of BES-5 based on KOSMOS-954 wreckage, DOE image via Sven Grahn

Rather than having stacked discs of UC2, the BES-5 used 79 fuel rods made out of uranium (90% enriched, total U mass 30 kg) molybdenum alloy metal, encased in high-temperature steel. NaK was used as a coolant for the reactor, pumped using the energy from 19 of the fuel assemblies to run an electromagnetic fuel pump. Producing over 100 kW of thermal energy, after electric conversion using in-core germanium-silicon thermoelectric power conversion elements (which use the difference in charge potential between two different metals along a boundary to create an electrical charge when a temperature gradient is applied across the join; again, more in a later post), a maximum of 5 kW of electrical energy was available for the spacecraft’s instrumentation. The fact that this core used thermoelectric conversion rather than thermionic is a good indicator that the common use of the term, TOPAZ, for this reactor is incorrect. Reactor control was provided by six beryllium reflector drums that would be slowly lowered through holes in the radial reflector over the reactor’s life to increase the local neutron flux to account for the buildup of neutron poisons.

BES-5 Ascent Stage
BES-5 ascent stage cutaway, with core on left and chemical propulsion system on right, Rosatom

One unique aspect to the BES-5 is that the reactor was able to decommission itself at end of life (although this wasn’t always successful) by moving the reactor to a higher orbit and then ejecting the end reflector and fuel assemblies (which were subcritical at time of assembly, and required the Be control rods to be inserted to reach delayed criticality), as well as dumping the NaK coolant overboard. This ensured that the reactor core would not re-enter the atmosphere (although there were two notable exceptions to this, and one late unexpected success). As an additional safety measure following the failure of KOSMOS-954 (more on that below), the reactor was redesigned so that the fuel elements would burn up upon re-entry, diluting the radioactive material to the point that no significant increase in radiation would occur. Over the reactor’s long operational history (31 BES-5 reactors were launched), the lifetime of the reactors was constantly extended, beginning with a lifetime of just 110 minutes (used for radar broadcast testing) to up to 135 days of operational life.

RORSAT_by_Ronald_C._Wittmann,_1982
US-A satellite (with the radiator and ascent stage, but oddly no core), painting by Ronald Wittman 1982

The first BES-5 to be launched was serial number 37 on the KOSMOS-367 satellite on October 3, 1970 (there’s some confusion on this score, with another source claiming it was KOSMOS-469, launched on 25 December 1971). After a very short (110 minute) operational life, the spacecraft was moved into a graveyard orbit and the reactor ejected due to overheating in the reactor core. Three more spacecraft (KOSMOS-402, -469, and 516) were launched over the next two years, with the -469 spacecraft possibly being the first to have the 8.2 GHz side looking radar system that the power plant was selected for. Over time, the US-A spacecraft were launched in parallel, co-planar orbits, usually deployed in pairs with closely attending Russian US-P electronics intelligence satellites (for more on the operational use of the US-A, check out Sven Grahn’s excellent blog on the operational history of the US-A).

Morning Light logo
CNSC/DOE Operation Morning Light logo

The US-A program wasn’t without its failures, sadly, and one led to one of the biggest radiological cleanup missions in the history of nuclear power. On September 18, 1977, a Tsyklon-2 rocket launched from Baikonur Cosmodrome in Khazakhstan carrying the KOSMOS-954 US-A spacecraft on an orbital inclination of 65 degrees. By December, the spacecraft’s orbital maneuvering had become erratic, and Soviet officials contacted US officials that they had lost control of the satellite before they were able to move the reactor core into its’ designated graveyard orbit. On January 24, 1968, the satellite re-entered over Canada, spreading debris over a 600 km long section of the country. Operation Morning Light, the resulting CNES and US DOE program, was able to clear all the debris over several months, in a program that involved hundreds of people from the CNES, DOE, the NEST teams that were then available, and US Military Airlift Command. No fatalities or radiation poisoning cases were reported as a result of KOSMOS-954’s unplanned re-entry, although the remote nature of the re-entry was probably as much of a help as a challenge in this regard. A second KOSMOS spacecraft, KOSMOS-1402, also had its fuel elements re-enter the atmosphere following a failure of the spacecraft to ascend into its graveyard orbit, this time over the North Atlantic. The core re-entered the atmosphere on 23 January 1983, breaking up over the North Atlantic, north of England. No fragments of this reactor were ever recovered, and no significant increase in radioactivity as a result of this unplanned re-entry were detected.

These two incidents caused significant delays in the US-A program, and subsequent redesigns in the reactor as well. However, launches of this system continued until March 14, 1988, with the KOSMOS-1932 mission, which was moved into a graveyard orbit on 20 May, 1988, after a mission time of 66 days. The fate of its’ immediate predecessor, KOSMOS-1900, showed that the additional safety mechanisms for the US-A spacecraft’s reactor were successful: despite an apparent loss of control of the spacecraft, an increasingly eccentric orbit, and the buildup of aerodynamic forces, the reactor core was able to be boosted to a stable graveyard orbit, with the maneuver being completed on 17 October 1988. The main body of the spacecraft re-entered over the Indian Ocean 16 days earlier.

One interesting note on the controversy surrounding these reactor cores’ re-entry into Earth’s atmosphere is that the US planned on doing the exact same thing with the SNAP-10A reactors. The design was supposed to orbit for long enough (on the order of hundreds of year) for the short-lived fission products to decay away, and then the entire reactor would self-disassemble through a combination of mechanical, explosive, and aerodynamic systems; and, as a result, burn up in the upper atmosphere. While the amount of radioactivity that would be added to the atmosphere would be negligible, these accidents showed that this disposal method would not be acceptable; further complicating the American astronuclear program, as well as the one in the USSR. The SNAPSHOT reactor is still in orbit, and is expected to remain there for 2800 years, but considering the fallout of these accidents, retrieval or boosting to a graveyard orbit may be a future mission necessity for this reactor.

The US-A spacecraft demonstrated in-space nuclear fission power, and serial fission power plant production, for over two decades. Despite two major failures resulting in re-entry of the reactor core, the US-A program managed successful operation of the BES-5 reactor for 29 missions, and minimal impact from the two failures. The rest of the BES-5 cores remain parked in graveyard orbits, where they will remain for many hundreds of years until the radioactivity has dropped to natural background radiation.

There is one long-lasting legacy of the BES-5 program on in-orbit space travel, however: the ejected NaK coolant. The coolant remains a cratering hazard for spacecraft in certain orbits, but is not thought to be an object multiplication hazard. It is doubtful that the same core ejection system would be used in a newly designed astronuclear reactor, but this legacy lives on as another example of humanity’s ignorance at the time of a Kessler Syndrome situation.

While this program was not 100% successful, whether from a mission success point of view or from the point of view of it having no ongoing impact from the operations that were carried out, over 25 years of operation of a series of BES-5 reactors remains to this day the most extensive and successful of any astronuclear fission powered design, and it meets or exceeds even the service histories of any RTG design that has been deployed by any country.

 

TOPOL: The Most Powerful Reactor Ever Flown

TOPOL Cutaway
TEU-5 cutaway diagram

The TEU-5 TOPOL (TOPAZ-1) program is the second type of Soviet reactor to fly; and, although it only flew twice, it can be argued to have been even more successful than the BES-5 reactor design. The TEU-5 was the return of the in-core thermionic power conversion system that was first utilized in Romashka; and, just as the Bouk was a step above the Romashka, the Topol was a step beyond that. Thermionic conversion remained more attractive than thermoelectric in terms of wider range of operating capabilities, increased temperature potential, and more forgiving materials requirements, but thermoelectric conversion was able to be readied for flight first. Because of this, and because of the inertia that any flight-tested and more-refined (from a programmatic and serial production sense) program has over one that has yet to fly, the BES-5 flew for over a decade before the TEU-5 would take to orbit.

Despite the different structure, and much higher power, of the TEU-5, the design was able to fulfill the same role of ocean radar reconnaissance; but, initially, it was meant to be a powerful on-orbit TV transmission station. The major advantage of the TEU-5 over the BES-5 is that, due to its higher power level, it wasn’t forced to be in a very low orbit, which increased atmospheric drag, caused the dry mass of the craft to be severely reduced in order to allow for more propellant to be on board, and created a lot of complexity in terms of reactor decommissioning and disposal. Following the KOSMOS-954 and -1402 accidents, the low-flying profile of the US-A satellite was no longer available for astronuclear reactors, and so the orbital altitude increased. TEU-5 offered the capability to get useful image resolution at this higher altitude due to its higher power, and improvements to the (never flown, but ground tested) radar systems.

TOPAZ Core configuration, Bennett
Disgram of multi-cell TFE concept, Bennett 1989

The TOPOL program was begun in the 1960s, under the Russian acronym for Thermionic Experimental Converter in the Active Zone, which translates directly into Topaz in English, but ground testing didn’t begin until 1970. This was a multi-cell thermionic fuel element design similar in basic concept to Romashka, however it was a far more complex design. Instead of a single stack of disc-shaped fuel elements, a “garland” of fuel elements were formed into a thermionic fuel element. The fissile fuel element was surrounded by a thimble of tungsten or molybdenum, which formed the cathode of the thermionic converter, while the anode of the converter was a thin niobium tube; as with most thermionic converters the gap between cathode and anode was filled with cesium vapor. The anode was cooled with pumped NaK, although some sources indicate that lithium was also considered as a coolant for higher-powered versions of the reactor.

BES-5 core cross section
TEU-5 core cross-section, DOE

The differences between the BES-5 and TEU-5 were far more than the power conversion system. Instead of being a fast reactor, the Topaz was designed for the thermal neutron spectrum, and as such used zirconium hydride for in-core moderation (also creating a thermal limitation for the materials in the core; however, hydrogen loss mitigation measures were taken throughout the development process). Rather than using the metal fuels that its predecessor had, or the carbides of the Romashka, the Topol used a far more familiar material to nuclear power plant operators: uranium oxide (UO2), enriched to 90% 235U. This, along with reactor core geometry changes, allowed the amount of uranium needed for the core to drop from 30 kg in the BES-5 to 11.5 kg. NaK remained the coolant, due to its low melting temperature, good thermal conductivity, and neutronic transparency. The cathode temperature in the TEU-5 was in the range of 1500-1800C, which resulted in an electrical power output of up to 10 kW.

Cesium reservoir and regulator
ENISY cesium reservoir, which is very similar to the TEU-5 system, image courtesy DOE

One of the most technically challenging parts of this reactor’s design was in the cesium management system. The metal would only be a gas inside the core, and electromagnetic pumps were used to move the liquid through a series of filters, heaters, and pipes. The purity of the cesium had a large impact on the efficiency of the thermionic elements, so a number of filters were installed, including for gaseous fission waste products, to be evacuated into space.

The first flight of the TEU-5 was on the KOSMOS-1818 satellite, launched on February 1st, 1987, onto a significantly different orbital trajectory than the rest of the US-A series of spacecraft, despite the fact that superficially it appeared to be quite similar. This was because it was the test-bed of a new type of US-A spacecraft, the US-AM, taking advantage of not only the more powerful nuclear reactor but also employing numerous other technologies. The USSR eventually announced that the spacecraft’s name was the Plasma-A, and was a technology demonstrator for a number of new systems. These included six SPT-70 Hall thrusters for maneuvering and reaction control, and a suite of electromagnetic and sun-finding sensors. Some sources indicate that part of the mission for the spacecraft was the development of a magnetospherically-based navigation system for the USSR. An additional advantage to the higher orbit of this spacecraft was that it eliminated the need for the ascent stage for the reactor core and fuel elements, saving spacecraft mass to complete its’ mission. It had an operational life of 187 days, before the reactor was placed in its graveyard orbit, and the remainder of the spacecraft was allowed to re-enter the atmosphere as its orbit decayed.

The second Plasma-A (KOSMOS-1867) launch was on July 10th, 1987. While the initial flight profile was remarkably similar to the original Plasma-A satellite, the later portions of the mission showed a much larger variation in orbital period, possibly indicating more extensive testing of the thrusters. It was operational for just over a year before it, too, was decommissioned.

Neither of the TEU-5 launches carried radar equipment aboard; but, considering the cancellation of the program also coincided with the fall of the Soviet Union, it’s possible that the increased power output of the TEU-5 would have allowed acceptable radar resolution from this higher orbit (the US-A spacecraft’s orbit was determined by the distance and power requirements of its radar system, and due to the higher aerodynamic drag also significantly limited the lifetime of each spacecraft).

After decommissioning, similar problems with NaK coolant from the reactor core were experienced with the TEU-5 reactors. There is one additional complication from the decommissioning of these larger reactor cores, however, which led to some confusion during the Solar Maximum Mission (SMM) to study solar behavior. Due to the higher operational altitude during the time that the reactor was being operated at full power, and the behavior of the materials that the reactor was made out of, what is often a minor curiosity in reactor physics caused some confusion among some astrophysical and heliophysical researchers: when some materials are bombarded by sufficiently high gamma flux, they will eject electron-positron pairs, which were then trapped in the magnetosphere of the Earth. While these radiation fluxes are minuscule, and unable to adversely affect living tissue, for scientists carefully studying solar behavior during the solar maximum the difference in the number of positrons was not only noticeable, but statistically significant. Both the SMM satellite and one other (Ginga, a Japanese X-ray telescope launched in 1987, which reentered in 1991) have been confirmed to have some instrument interference due to either the gamma wave flux or the resulting positron emissions from the two flown TEU-5 reactors. While this is a problem that only affected a very small number of missions, should astronuclear reactors become more commonly used in orbit, these types of emissions will need to be taken into account for future astrophysical missions.

The Topol program as a whole would survive the collapse of the Soviet Union, but just as with the BES-5, the TEU-5 never flew again after the Berlin Wall came down. KOSMOS-1867 was the last TEU-5 reactor, and the last US-AM satellite, to fly.

 

ENISY, The Final Soviet Reactor

The single-element thermionic reactor concept never went away. In fact, it remained in side-by-side development with the TOPOL reactor, and shared many of the basic characteristics, but was not ready in as timely a fashion as TOPOL was. The program was begun in 1967, with a total of 26 units built.

ENISY was seen to Soviet planners to be the logical extension of the TEU-5 program, and in many ways the reactor designs are linked. While the TEU-5 was designed for high-powered radar reconnaissance, the ENISY reactor was designed to be a communications and TV broadcast satellite. The amount of data that’s able to be transmitted is directly proportional to the amount of power available, and remains one of the most attractive advantages that astronuclear power plants offer to deep space probes (along with propulsion).

We’ll look at this design more in a later post, but it’s important to mention here since it is, in many ways, a direct evolution of the TEU-5. One nice thing about this reactor is that, due to the geometry of the reactor, its non-nuclear components were able to be tested as a unit without fissile fuel. Instead, induction heating units of the same size as the fuel elements could be slid into the location that the fuel rods would be for preflight testing without issues of neutron activation and material degradation due to the radiation flux.

ENISY for NEPSTP
ENISY reactor installation for NEP Space Test Program, DOE

This capability was demonstrated at the 8th US Symposium on Nuclear Energy in Albuquerque, NM, and led to the US purchasing two already-tested units from Russia (numbers V-71 and I-21U), with a buy option taken out on an additional four units, if needed. This purchase included technical information in the fuel elements, and offers of assistance from Russia to help in the fabrication of the fuel elements, but no actual fuel was sold. This reactor design would form the core of the American crewed lunar base concept in the 1990s as part of the Constellation program, as well as the core of a proposed technology demonstration mission deep space probe, but those programs never reached fruition.

We’ll look at this design in our usual depth in a couple blog posts. For now, it’s worth noting that this design reached flight-ready status; but, due to the financial situation of Russia after the collapse of the USSR, the increased availability of high-powered photovoltaic communications satellites, and the lack of funding for an American astronuclear flight test program, this reactor never achieved orbit as its predecessors did.

 

The Legacy of the USSR Astronuclear Program

 

The USSR flew more nuclear power plants than the rest of the world combined, 33 times more to be precise. Their program focused on an area of power generation that continues to hold great promise in the future, and in many ways helped define the problem for the rest of the world: in-core direct power conversion (something we’ll talk more about in the power conversion series). Even the failures of the program have taught the world much about the challenges of astronuclear design, and changed the face of what is and isn’t acceptable when it comes to flying a nuclear reactor in Earth orbit. The ENISY reactor went on to be the preferred power plant for American lunar bases for over a decade, and remains the only astronuclear design that’s been flight-certified by multiple countries.

Russia continues to build on the experience and expertise gained during the Romashka, BES-5, TEU-5, and ENISY programs. A recent test of a heat rejection system that offers far higher heat rejection capacity for its mass than any that has flown to date (a liquid droplet radiator, a concept we’ll cover in the thermal management post that will be coming up in a few months), their focus on high-power Hall thrusters, and their design for an on-orbit nuclear electric tug with a far more powerful reactor than any that we looked at today (1 MWe, depending on the power conversion system, likely between 2-5 MWt) shows that this experience has not been shoved into a closet and left to gather dust, but continues to be developed to advance the future of spaceflight.

 

More Coming Soon!

This post focused on the USSR and Russia’s astronuclear power plant expertise and operational history, a subject that very little has been written about in English (outside a number of reports, mostly focusing on the ENISY/TOPAZ-2 reactor), and is a subject that has long fascinated me. However, the USSR wasn’t the only country focusing on the idea, and wasn’t even the first to fly a reactor, just the most successful at making an astronuclear program.

The next post (which might be split into two due to the sheer number of fission power plant designs proposed in the US) is on the American programs from the same time, the Systems for Nuclear Auxiliary Propulsion, or SNAP, series of reactors (if split, the first post will cover SNAP-2, -10A, SNAPSHOT, -8, and the three reactors that evolved from SNAP-8, with SNAP50/SPUR, SABRE, SP-100, and possibly a couple more, as well as the ENISY/TOPAZ II US-USSR TSET/NEP Space Test Program/lunar base program). While the majority of the SNAP designs that were used were radioisotope thermoelectric generators, the ones that we’ll be focusing on are the fission power plants: the SNAP-2, SNAP-8, SNAP-10A (the first reactor to be launched into orbit), and the SNAP-100/SPUR reactor.

Following that, we’ll wrap up our look at the history of astronuclear electric power plants (the reactors themselves, at least) with a look at the designs proposed for the Strategic Defense Initiative (Reagan’s “Star Wars” program), return to a Russian-designed reactor which would have powered an America lunar base, had the funding for the base been available (ENISY), and the designs that rounded out the 20th century’s exploration of this fascinating and promising concept.

 

We’ll do one last post on NEP reactor cores looking at more recent designs from the last twenty years up to the present time, including the JIMO mission and a look at where Kilopower stands today, and then move on to power conversion systems in what’s likely to be another long series. As it stands that one will have a post on direct energy conversion, one on general heat engines and Stirling power conversion systems, one on Rankine cycle power conversion systems, one on Brayton cycle systems (including the ever-popular, never-realized, supercritical CO2 turbines), one on AMTEC and magnetohydrodynamic power conversion systems (possibly with a couple other non-mechanical heat engines as well), and a wrap up of the concepts, looking at which designs work best for which power levels and mission types. After that, it’ll be on to: heat rejection systems, for another multi-part series; a post on NEP ship and mission design; and, finally, one on bimodal NTR/NEP systems, looking at how to get the thrust of an NTR when it’s convenient and the efficiency of an NEP system when it’s most useful.

References

General References

http://www.buran.ru/htm/gud%2026.htm?fbclid=IwAR1jt9fsDZ10fHCSo42KUHjGTux8_uIkg43ClPrE1eg5IdQjXyhS2rSAHGY

http://www.proatom.ru/modules.php?name=News&file=print&sid=2740

https://sdelanounas.ru/blogs/29489/?fbclid=IwAR2zftn2RGOk8aU-3m1zGwNBhYMVY2zYFGUGwiorL6LSEFLNe8y-Pt4w_ag

http://elib.biblioatom.ru/text/atomnaya-energiya_t17-5_1964/go,16/?fbclid=IwAR2QzxdvVT5m3Kc3KPcVUmR5ZFrx_Er5d7RmKNFTzFz4k6-Djw_gPnnV6eA

Romashka

http://fti.neep.wisc.edu/neep602/SPRING00/lecture35.pdf

http://nacep.ru/novosti-energetiki/atomnaya-energetika/vysokotemperaturnyj-reaktor-preobrazovatel-romashka.html?fbclid=IwAR2W-9Exgyd63m6NGbVfNixGUzF9FrU2hsZUAMvdb9b75TBHQ6Ukh-EPMIA

http://nacep.ru/novosti-energetiki/atomnaya-energetika/termobatareya-romashka.html

Bouk

RORSAT page, Sven Grahn http://www.svengrahn.pp.se/trackind/RORSAT/RORSAT.html

Morning Light

The Life and Death of KOSMOS 954, Guy Weiss, courtesy Sven Grahn http://www.svengrahn.pp.se/trackind/RORSAT/cosmos954.pdf

History of the the 1035th Technical Operations Group, 1 January – 31 December 1978, via John Greenwald at The Black Vault http://documents.theblackvault.com/documents/accidents/morninglightusaf.pdf

History of the 437 Military Airlift Wing, Manning 1978, courtest John Greenwald at The Black Vault http://documents.theblackvault.com/documents/accidents/morninglight-histories.pdf

CIA Report C06607579, courtesy John Greenwald at The Black Vault http://documents.theblackvault.com/documents/cia/operationmorninglight-cia1.pdf

Topol-1

Gunther’s Space Page, PLASMA-A https://space.skyrocket.de/doc_sdat/plasma-a.htm

 

Categories
Development and Testing Electric propulsion History Non-nuclear Testing Nuclear Electric Propulsion Spacecraft Concepts

Electric Propulsion: The Oldest “Futuristic” Propulsion Possibility

Hello, and welcome back to Beyond NERVA. Today, we are looking at a very popular topic, but one that doesn’t necessarily require nuclear power: electric propulsion. However, it IS an area that nuclear power plants are often tied to, because the amount of thrust available is highly dependent on the amount of power available for the drive system. We will touch a little bit on the history of electric propulsion, as well as the different types of electric thrusters, their advantages and disadvantages, and how fission power plants can change the paradigm for how electric thrusters can be used. It’s important to realize that most electric propulsion is power-source-agnostic: all they require is electricity; how it’s produced usually doesn’t mean much to the drive system itself. As such, nuclear power plants are not going to be mentioned much in this post, until we look at the optimization of electric propulsion systems.

We also aren’t going to be looking at specific types of thrusters in this post. Instead, we’re going to do a brief overview of the general types of electric propulsion, their history, and how electrically propelled spacecraft differ from thermally or chemically propelled spacecraft. The next few posts will focus more on the specific technology itself, its’ application, and some of the current options for each type of thruster.

Electric Propulsion: What is It?

In its simplest definition, electric propulsion is any means of producing thrust in a spacecraft using electrical energy. There’s a wide range of different concepts that get rolled into this concept, so it’s hard to make generalizations about the capabilities of these systems. As a general rule of thumb, though, most electric propulsion systems are low-thrust, long-burn-time systems. Since they’re not used for launch, and instead for on-orbit maneuvering or interplanetary missions, the fact that these systems generally have very little thrust is a characteristic that can be worked with, although there’s a great deal of variety as far as how much thrust, and how efficient in terms of specific impulse, these systems are.

There are three very important basic concepts to understand when discussing electric propulsion: thrust-to-weight ratio (T/W), specific impulse (isp), and burn time. The first is self-explanatory: how much does the engine weigh, compared to how hard it can push, commonly in relation to Earth’s gravity: a T/W ratio of 1/1 means that the engine can hover, basically, but no more, A T/W ratio of 3/1 means that it can push just less than 3 times its weight off the ground. Specific impulse is a measure of how much thrust you get out of a given unit of propellant, and ignores everything else, including the weight of the propulsion system; it’s directly related to fuel efficiency, and is measured in seconds: if the drive system had a T/W ratio of 1/1, and was entirely made out of fuel, this would be the amount of time it could hover (assuming the engine is completely made out of propellant) for any given mass of fuel at 1 gee. Finally, you have burn time: the T/W ratio and isp give you the amount of thrust imparted per unit time based on the mass of the drive system and of the propellant, then the spacecraft’s mass is factored into the equation to give the total acceleration on the spacecraft for a given unit of time. The longer the engine burns, the more overall acceleration is produced.

Electric propulsion has a very poor thrust-to-weight ratio (as a general rule), but incredible specific impulse and burn times. The T/W ratio of many of the thrusters is very low, due to the fact that they provide very little thrust, often measured in micronewtons – often, the thrust is illustrated in pieces of paper, or pennies, in Earth gravity. However, this doesn’t matter once you’re in space: with no drag, and orbital mechanics not requiring the huge amounts of thrust over a very short period of time, the total amount of thrust is more important for most maneuvers, not how long it takes to build up said thrust. This is where the burn time comes in: most electric thrusters burn continuously, providing minute amounts of thrust over months, sometimes years; they push the spacecraft in the direction of travel until halfway through the mission, then turn around and start decelerating the spacecraft halfway through the trip (in energy budget terms, not necessarily in total mission time). The trump card for electric propulsion is in specific impulse: rather than the few hundred seconds of isp for chemical propulsion, or the thousand or so for a solid core nuclear thermal rocket, electric propulsion gives thousands of seconds of isp. This means less fuel, which in turn makes the spacecraft lighter, and allows for truly astounding total velocities; the downside to this is that it takes months or years to build these velocities, so escaping a gravity well (for instance, if you’re starting in low Earth orbit) can take months, so it’s best suited for long trips, or for very minor changes in orbit – such as for communications satellites, where it’s made these spacecraft smaller, more efficient, and with far longer lifetimes.

Electric propulsion is an old idea, but one that has yet to reach its’ full potential due to a number of challenges. Tsiolkovsy and Goddard both wrote about electric propulsion, but because neither was living in a time that it was possible to get into orbit, their ideas went unrealized in their lifetimes. The reason for this is that electric propulsion isn’t suitable for lifting rockets off the surface of a planet, but for in-space propulsion it’s incredibly promising. They both showed that the only thing that matters for a rocket engine is that, to put it simply, some mass needs to be thrown out the back of the rocket to provide thrust, it doesn’t matter what that something is. Electricity isn’t (directly) limited by thermodynamics (except through entropic losses), only by electric potential differences, and can offer very efficient conversion of electric potential to kinetic energy (the “throwing something out of the back” part of the system).

In chemical propulsion, combustion is used to cause heat to be produced, which causes the byproducts of the chemical reaction to expand and accelerate. This is then directed out of a nozzle to increase the velocity of the exhaust and provide lift. This is the first type of rocket ever developed; however, while advances are always being produced, in many ways the field is chasing after more and more esoteric or exotic ways to produce ever more marginal gains. The reason for this is that there’s only so much chemical potential energy available in a given system. The most efficient chemical engines top out around 500 seconds of specific impulse, and most hover around the 350 mark. The place that chemical engines excel though, is in thrust-to-weight ratio. They remain – arguably – our best, and currently our only, way of actually getting off Earth.

Thermal propulsion doesn’t rely on the chemical potential energy, instead the reaction mass is directly heated from some other source, causing expansion. The lighter the propellant, the more it expands, and therefore the more thrust is produced for a given mass; however, heavier propellants can be used to give more thrust per unit volume, at lower efficiencies. It should be noted that thermal propulsion is not only possible, but also common, with electrothermal thrusters, but we’ll dig more into that later.

Electric propulsion, on the other hand, is kind of a catch-all term when you start to look at it. There are many mechanisms for changing electrical energy into kinetic energy, and looking at most – but not all – of the options is what this blog post is about.

In order to get a better idea of how these systems work, and the fundamental principles behind electric propulsion, it may be best to look into the past. While the potential of electric propulsion is far from realized, it has a far longer history than many realize.

Futuristic Propulsion? … Sort Of, but With A Long Pedigree

The Origins of Electric Propulsion

Goddard drive drawing
First Patented Ion Drive, Robert Goddard 1917

When looking into the history of spaceflight, two great visionaries stand out: Konstantin Tsiolkosky and Robert Goddard. Both worked independently on the basics of rocketry, both provided much in the way of theory, and both were visionaries seeing far beyond their time to the potential of rocketry and spaceflight in general. Both were working on the questions of spaceflight and rocketry at the turn of the 20th century. Both also independently came up with the concept of electric propulsion; although who did it first requires some splitting of hairs: Goddard mentioned it first, but in a private journal, while Tsiolkovsky published the concept first in a scientific paper, even if the reference is fairly vague (considering the era, understandably so). Additionally, due to the fact that electricity was a relatively poorly understood phenomenon at the time (the nature of cathode and anode “rays” was much debated, and positively charged ions had yet to be formally described); and neither of these visionaries had a deep understanding of the concepts involved, their ideas being little more than just that: concepts that could be used as a starting point, not actual designs for systems that would be able to be used to propel a spacecraft.

 

Tsilkovsky small portrait
Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, image via Wikimedia

The first mention of electric propulsion in the formal scientific literature was in 1911, in Russia. Konstantin Tsiolkovsky wrote that “it is possible that in time we may use electricity to produce a large velocity of particles ejected from a rocket device.” He began to focus on the electron, rather than the ion, as the ejected particle. While he never designed a practical device, the promise of electric propulsion was clearly seen: “It is quite possible that electrons and ions can be used, i.e. cathode and especially anode rays. The force of electricity is unlimited and can, therefore, produce a powerful flux of ionized helium to serve a spaceship.” The lack of understanding of electric phenomena hindered him, though, and prevented him from ever designing a practical system, much less building one.

 

220px-Dr._Robert_H._Goddard_-_GPN-2002-000131
Robert Goddard, image viaWikimedia

The first mention of electric propulsion in history is from Goddard, in 1906, in a private notebook, but as noted by Edgar Choueiri, in his excellent historical paper published in 2004 (a major source for this section), these early notes don’t actually describe (or even reference the use of) an electric propulsion drive system. This wasn’t a practical design (that didn’t come until 1917), but the basic principles were laid out for the acceleration of electrons (rather than positively charged ions) to the “speed of light.” For the next few years, the concept fermented in his mind, culminating in patents in 1912 (for an ionization chamber using magnetic fields, similar to modern ionization chambers) and in 1917 (for a “Method and Means for Producing Electrified Jets of Gas”). The third of three variants was for the first recognizable electric thruster, whichwould come to be known as an electrostatic thruster. Shortly after, though, America entered WWI, and Goddard spent the rest of his life focused on the then-far-more-practical field of chemical propulsion.

 

Кондратюк,_Юрий
Yuri Kondratyuk, image wia Wikimedia

Other visionaries of rocketry also came up with concepts for electric propulsion. Yuri Kondratyuk (another, lesser-known, Russian rocket pioneer) wrote “Concerning Other Possible Reactive Drives,” which examined electric propulsion, and pointed out the high power requirements for this type of system. He didn’t just examine electron acceleration, but also ion acceleration, noting that the heavier particles provide greater thrust (in the same paper he may have designed a nascent colloid thruster, another type of electric propulsion).

 

 

 

 

Hermann_Oberth_1950s
Hermann Oberth, image via Wikimedia

Another of the first generation of rocket pioneers to look at the possibilities of electric propulsion was Hermann Oberth. His 1929 opus, “Ways to Spaceflight,” devoted an entire chapter to electric propulsion. Not only did he examine electrostatic thrusters, but he looked at the practicalities of a fully electric-powered spacecraft.

 

 

 

 

 

200px-Glushko_Valentin_Petrovich
Valentin Glushko, image via Wikimedia

Finally, we come to Valentin Glushko, another early Russian rocketry pioneer, and giant of the Soviet rocketry program. In 1929, he actually built an electric thruster (an electrothermal system, which vaporized fine wires to produce superheated particles), although this particular concept never flew.By this time, it was clear that much more work had to be done in many fields for electric propulsion to be used; and so, one by one, these early visionaries turned their attention to chemical rockets, while electric propulsion sat on the dusty shelves of spaceflight concepts that had yet to be realized. It collected dust next to centrifugal artificial gravity, solar sails, and other practical ideas that didn’t have the ability to be realized for decades.

The First Wave of Electric Propulsion

Electric propulsion began to be investigated after WWII, both in the US and in the USSR, but it would be another 19 years of development before a flight system was introduced. The two countries both focused on one general type of electric propulsion, the electrostatic thruster, but they looked at different types of this thruster, reflecting the technical capabilities and priorities of each country. The US focused on what is now known as a gridded ion thruster, most commonly called an ion drive, while the USSR focused on the Hall effect thruster, which uses a magnetic field perpendicular to the current direction to accelerate particles. Both of these concepts will be examined more in the section on electrostatic thrusters; though, for now it’s worth noting that the design differences in these concepts led to two very different systems, and two very different conceptions of how electric propulsion would be used in the early days of spaceflight.

In the US, the most vigorous early proponent of electric propulsion was Ernst Stuhlinger, who was the project manager for many of the earliest electric propulsion experiments. He was inspired by the work of Oberth, and encouraged by von Braun to pursue this area, especially now that being able to get into space to test and utilize this type of propulsion was soon to be at hand. His leadership and designs had a lasting impact on the US electric propulsion program, and can still be seen today.

sert1
SERT-I thruster, image courtesy NASA

The first spacecraft to be propelled using electric propulsion was the SERT-I spacecraft, a follow on to a suborbital test (Program 661A, Test A, first of three suborbital tests for the USAF) of the ion drives that would be used. These drive system used cesium and mercury as a propellant, rather than the inert gasses that are commonly used today. The reason for this is that these metals both have very low ionization energy, and a reasonably favorable mass for providing more significant thrust. Tungsten buttons were used in the place of the grids used in modern ion drives, and a tantalum wire was used to neutralize the ion stream. Unfortunately, the cesium engine short circuited, but the mercury system was tested for 31 minutes and 53 cycles of the engine. This not only demonstrated ion propulsion in principle, but just as importantly demonstrated ion beam neutralization. This is important for most electric propulsion systems, because this prevents the spacecraft from becoming negatively charged, and possibly even attracting the ion stream back to the spacecraft, robbing it of thrust and contaminating sensors on board (which was a common problem in early electric propulsion systems).

The SNAPSHOT program, which launched the SNAP 10A nuclear reactor on April 3, 1965, also had a cesium ion engine as a secondary experimental payload. The failure of the electrical bus prevented this from being operated, but SNAPSHOT could be considered the first nuclear electric spacecraft in history (if unsuccessful).

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ATS (either 4 or 5), image courtesy NASA

The ATS program continued to develop the cesium thrusters from 1968 through 1970. The ATS-4 flight was the first demonstration of an orbital spacecraft with electric propulsion, but sadly there were problems with beam neutralization in the drive systems, indicating more work needed to be done. ATS-5 was a geostationary satellite meant to have electrically powered stationkeeping, but was not able to despin the satellite from launch, meaning that the thruster couldn’t be used for propulsion (the emission chamber was flooded with unionized propellant), although it was used as a neutral plasma source for experimentation. ATS-6 was a similar design, and successfully operated for a total of over 90 hours (one failed early due to a similar emission chamber flooding issue). SERT-II and SCATHA satellites continued to demonstrate improvements as well, using both cesium and mercury ion devices (SCATHA wasn’t optimized as a drive system, but used similar components to test spacecraft charge neutralization techniques).

These tests in the 1960s never developed into an operational satellite that used ion propulsion for another thirty years. Challenges with the aforementioned thrusters becoming saturated, spacecraft contamination issues due to highly reactive cesium and mercury propellants, and relatively low engine lifetimes (due to erosion of the screens used for this type of ion thruster) didn’t offer a large amount of promise for mission planners. The high (2000+ s) specific impulse was very promising for interplanetary spacecraft, but the low reliability, and reasonably short lifetimes, of these early ion drives made them unreliable, or of marginal use, for mission planners. Ground testing of various concepts continued in the US, but additional flight missions were rare until the end of the 1990s. This likely helped feed the idea that electric propulsion is new and futuristic, rather than having its’ conceptual roots reaching all the way back to the dawn of the age of flight.

Early Electric Propulsion in the USSR

Unlike in the US, the USSR started development of electric propulsion early, and continued its development almost continuously to the modern day. Sergei Korolev’s OKB-1 was tasked, from the beginning of the space race, with developing a wide range of technologies, including nuclear powered spacecraft and the development of electric propulsion.

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Early sketch of a Hall effect (TAL) thruster in USSR, image from Kim et al

Part of this may be the different architecture that the Soviet engineers used: rather than having ions be accelerated toward a pair of charged grids, the Soviet designs used a stream of ionized gas, with a perpendicular magnetic field to accelerate the ions. This is the Hall effect thruster, which has several advantages over the gridded ion thruster, including simplicity, fewer problems with erosion, as well as higher thrust (admittedly, at the cost of specific impulse). Other designs, including the PPT, or pulsed plasma thruster, were also experimented with (the ZOND-2 spacecraft carried a PPT system). However, due to the rapidly growing Soviet mastery of plasma physics, the Hall effect thruster became a very attractive system.

There are two main types of Hall thruster that were experimented with: the stationary plasma thruster (SPT) and the thruster with anode layer (TAL), which refer to how the electric charge is produced, the behavior of the plasma, and the path that the current follows through the thruster. The TAL was developed in 1957 by Askold Zharinov, and proven in 1958-1961, but a prototype wasn’t built until 1967 (using cesium, bismuth, cadmium, and xenon propellants, with isp of up to 8000 s), and it wasn’t published in open literature until 1973. This thruster can be characterized by a narrow acceleration zone, meaning it can be more compact.

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E1 SPT-type Hall thruster, image via Kim et al

The SPT, on the other hand, can be larger, and is the most common form of Hall thruster used today. Complications in the plasma dynamics of this system meant that it took longer to develop, but its’ greater electrical efficiency and thrust mean that it’s a more attractive choice for station-keeping thrusters. Research began in 1962, under Alexy Morozov at the Institute of Atomic Energy; and was later moved to the Moscow Aviation institute, and then again to what became known as FDB Fakel (now Fakel Industries, still a major producer of Hall thrusters). The first breadboard thruster was built in 1968, and flew in 1970. It was then used for the Meteor series of weather satellites for attitude control. Development continued on the design until today, but these types of thrusters weren’t widely used, despite their higher thrust and lack of spacecraft contamination (unlike similar vintage American designs).

It would be a mistake to think that only the US and the USSR were working on these concepts, though. Germany also had a diversity of programs. Arcjet thrusters, as well as magnetoplasmadynamic thrusters, were researched by the predecessors of the DLR. This work was inherited by the University of Stuttgart Institute for Space Systems, which remains a major research institution for electric propulsion in many forms. France, on the other hand, focused on the Hall effect thruster, which provides lower specific impulse, but more thrust. The Japanese program tended to focus on microwave frequency ion thrusters, which later provided the main means of propulsion for the Hayabusa sample return mission (more on that below).

The Birth of Modern Electric Propulsion

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DS1 Mission Patch, Image courtesy JPL

For many people, electric propulsion was an unknown until 1998, when NASA launched the Deep Space 1 mission. DS1 was a technology demonstration mission, part of the New Millennium program of advanced technology testing and experimentation. A wide array of technologies were to be tested in space, after extensive ground testing; but, for the purposes of Beyond NERVA, the most important of these new concepts was the first operational ion drive, the NASA Solar Technology Applications Readiness thruster (NSTAR). As is typical of many modern NASA programs, DS1 far exceeded the minimum requirements. Originally meant to do a flyby of the asteroid 9969 Braille, the mission was extended twice: first for a transit to the comet 19/P Borrelly, and later to extend engineering testing of the spacecraft.

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NSTAR thruster, image courtesy NASA

In many ways, NSTAR was a departure from most of the flight-tested American electric propulsion designs. The biggest difference was with the propellant used: cesium and mercury were easy to ionize, but a combination of problems with neutralizing the propellant stream, and the resultant contamination of the spacecraft and its’ sensors (as well as minimizing chemical reaction complications and growing conservatism concerning toxic component minimization in spacecraft), led to the decision to use noble gasses, in this case xenon. This, though, doesn’t mean that it was a great overall departure from the gridded ion drives of US development; it was an evolution, not a revolution, in propulsion technology. Despite an early (4.5 hour) failure of the NSTAR thruster, it was able to be restarted, and the overall thruster life was 8,200 hours, and the backup achieved more than 500 hours beyond that.

Not only that, but this was not the only use of this thruster. The Dawn mission to the minor planet Ceres uses an NSTAR thruster, and is still in operation around that body, sending back incredibly detailed and fascinating information about hydrocarbon content in the asteroid belt, water content, and many other exciting discoveries for when humanity begins to mine the asteroid belt.

Many satellites, especially geostationary satellites, use electric propulsion today, for stationkeeping and even for final orbital insertion. The low thrust of these systems is not a major detriment, since they can be used over long periods of time to ensure a stable orbital path; and the small amount of propellant required allows for larger payloads or longer mission lifetimes with the same mass of propellant.

After decades of being considered impractical, immature, or unreliable, electric propulsion has come out of the cold. Many designs for interplanetary spacecraft use electric propulsion, due to their high specific impulse and ability to maximize the benefits of the high-isp, low-thrust propulsion regime that these thruster systems excel at.

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Electrothermal arcjet, image courtest Georgia Tech

Another type of electric thruster is also becoming popular for small-sat users: electrothermal thrusters, which offer higher thrust from chemically inert propellants in compact forms, at the cost of specific impulse. These thrusters offer the benefits of high-thrust chemical propulsion in a more compact and chemically inert form – a major requirement for most smallsats which are secondary payloads that have to demonstrate that they won’t threaten the primary payload.

So, now that we’ve looked into how we’ve gotten to this point, let’s see what the different possibilities are, and what is used today.

What are the Options?

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Ion drive schematic, image courtesy NASA

The most well-known and popularized version of electric propulsion is electrostatic propulsion, which uses an ionization chamber (or ionic fluid) to develop a positively charged stream of ions, which are then accelerated out the “nozzle” of the thruster. A stream of electrons is added to the propellant as it leaves the spacecraft, to prevent the buildup of a negative charge. There are many different variations of this concept, including the best known types of thrusters (the Hall effect and gridded ion thrusters), as well as field effect thrusters and electrospray thrusters.

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MPD Thruster concept, image courtesy NASA

The next most common version – and one with a large amount of popular mentions these days – is the electromagnetic thruster. Here, the propellant is converted to a relatively dense plasma, and usually (but not always) magnets are used to accelerate this plasma at high speed out of a magnetic nozzle using the electromagnetic and thermal properties of plasma physics. In the cases that the plasma isn’t accelerated using magnetic fields directly, magnetic nozzles and other plasma shaping functions are used to constrict or expand the plasma flow. There are many different versions, from magnetohydrodynamic thrusters (MHD, where a charge isn’t transferred into the plasma from the magnetic field), to the less-well-known magnetoplasmadynamic (MPD, where the Lorentz force is used to at least partially accelerate the plasma), electrodeless plasma, and pulsed inductive thruster (PIT).

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Electrothermal arcjet, image courtesy Georgia Tech

Thirdly, we have electrothermal drive systems, basically highly advanced electric heaters used to heat a propellant. These tend to be the less energy efficient, but high thrust, systems (although, theoretically, some versions of electromagnetic thrusters can achieve high thrust as well). The most common types of electrothermal systems proposed have been arcjet, resistojet, and inductive heating drives; the first two actually being popular choices for reaction control systems for large, nuclear-powered space stations. Inductive heating has already made a number of appearances on this page, both in testing apparatus (CFEET and NTREES are both inductively heated), and as part of a bimodal NTR (the nuclear thermal electric rocket, or NTER, covered on our NTR page).

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VASIMR operating principles diagram, image courtesy Ad Astra

The last two systems, MHD and electrothermal, often use similar mechanisms of operation when you look at the details, and the line between the two isn’t necessarily clear. For instance, some authors describe the pulsed plasma thruster (PPT), which most commonly uses a solid propellant such as PTFE (Teflon) as a propellant, which is vaporized and occasionally ionized electrically before it’s accelerated out of the spacecraft, as an MHD, while others describe it as an arcjet, and which term best applies depends on the particulars of the system in question. A more famous example of this gray area would be the VASIMR thruster, (VAriable Specific Impulse through Magnetic Resonance). This system uses dense plasma, contained in a magnetic field, but the plasma is inductively heated using RF energy, and then accelerated due to the thermal behavior of the plasma while being contained magnetically. Because of this, the system can be seen as an MHD thruster, or as an electrothermal thruster (that debate, and the way these terms are used, was one of the more enjoyable parts of the editing process of this blog post, and I’m sure one that will continue as we continue to examine EP).

Finally, we come to the photon drives. These use photons as the reaction mass – and as such, are sometimes somewhat jokingly called flashlight drives. They have the lowest thrust of any of these systems, but the exhaust velocity is literally the speed of light, so they have insanely high specific impulse. Just… don’t expect any sort of significant acceleration, getting up to speed with these systems could take decades, if not centuries; making them popular choices for interstellar systems, rather than interplanetary ones. Photonic drives have another option, as well, though: the power source for the photons doesn’t need to be on board the spacecraft at all! This is the principle behind the lightsail (the best-known version being the solar sail): a fixed installation can produce a laser, or other stream of photons (such as a maser, out of microwaves, in the Starwisp concept), which then impact a reflective surface to provide thrust. This type of system follows a different set of rules and limitations, however, from systems where the power supply (and associated equipment), drive system, and any propellant needed are on-board the spacecraft, so we won’t go too much into depth on that concept initially, instead focusing on designs that have everything on-board the spacecraft.

Each of these systems has its’ advantages and disadvantages. Electrostatic thrusters are very simple to build: ionization chambers are easy, and creating a charged field is easy as well; but to get it to work there has to be something generating that charge, and whatever that something is will be hit by the ionized particles used for propellant, causing erosion. Plasmadynamic thrusters can provide incredible flexibility, but generally require large power plants; and reducing the power requirements requires superconducting magnets and other materials challenges. In addition, plasma physics, while becoming increasingly well known, provides a unique set of challenges. Thermoelectric thrusters are simple, but generally provide poor specific impulse, and thermal cycling of the components causes wear. Finally, photon drives are incredibly efficient but very, very low thrust systems, requiring exceedingly long burn times to produce any noticeable thrust. Let’s look at each of these options in a bit more detail, and look at the practical limitations that each system has.

Optimizing the System: The Fiddly Bits

As we’ve seen, there’s a huge array of technologies that fall under the umbrella of “electric propulsion,” each with their advantages and disadvantages. The mission that is going to be performed is going to determine which types of thrusters are feasible or not, depending on a number of factors. If the mission is stationkeeping for a geosynchronous communications satellite, then the Hall thruster has a wonderful balance between thrust and specific impulse. If the mission is a sample return mission to an asteroid, then the lower thrust, higher specific impulse gridded ion thruster is better, because the longer mission time (and greater overall delta-v needed for the mission) make this low-thrust, high-efficiency thruster a far more ideal option. If the mission is stationkeeping on a small satellite that is a piggyback load, the arcjet may be the best option, due to its’ compactness, the chemically inert nature of the fuel, and relatively high thrust. If higher thrust is needed over a longer period for a larger spacecraft, MPD may be the best bet. Very few systems are designed to deal with a wide range of capabilities in spaceflight, and electric propulsion is no different.

There are other key concepts to consider in the selection of an electric propulsion system as well. The first is the efficiency of this system: how much electricity is required for the thruster, compared to how much energy is imparted onto the spacecraft in the form of the propellant. This efficiency will vary within each different specific design, and its’ improvement is a major goal in every thruster’s development process. The quality of electrical power needed is also an important consideration: some require direct, current, some require alternating current, some require RF or microwave power inputs, and matching the electricity produced to the thruster itself is a necessary step, which on occasion can make one thruster more attractive than another by reducing the overall mass of the system. Another key question is the total amount of change in velocity needed for the mission, and the timeframe over which this delta-v can be applied; in this case, the longer timeframe you have, the more efficient your thruster can be at lower thrust (trading thrust for specific impulse).

However, looking past just the drive itself, there are quite a few things about the spacecraft itself, and the power supply, that also have to be considered. The first consideration is the power supply available to the drive system. If you’ve got an incredibly efficient drive system that requires a MW to run, then you’re going to be severely limited in your power supply options (there are very few, if any, drive systems that require this high a charge). For more realistic systems, the mass of the power supply, and therefore of the spacecraft, is going to have a direct impact on the amount of delta-v that is able to be applied over a given time: if you want your spacecraft to be able to, say maneuver out of the way of a piece of space debris, or a mission to another planet needs to arrive within a given timeframe, the less mass for a given unit of power, the better. This is an area where nuclear power can offer real benefits: while it’s debatable whether solar or nuclear power is better for low-powered applications in terms of power per unit mass, which is known in engineering as specific power. Once higher power levels are needed, however, nuclear shines: it can be difficult (but is far from impossible) to scale nuclear down in size and power output, but it scales up very easily and efficiently, and this scaling is non-linear. A smaller output reactor and one that has 3 times the output could be very similar in terms of core size, and the power conversion systems used also often have similar scaling advantages. There are additional advantages, as well: radiators are generally speaking smaller in sail area, and harder to damage, than photovoltaic cells, and can often be repaired more easily (once a PV cell get hit with space debris, it needs to be replaced, but a radiator tube designed to be repaired can in many cases just be patched or welded and continue functioning). This concept is known as power density, or power-per-unit-volume, and also has a significant impact on the capabilities of many (especially large) spacecraft. The specific volume of the power supply is going to be a limiting factor when it comes to launching the vehicle itself, since it has to fit into the payload fairing of the launch vehicle (or the satellite bus of the satellite that will use it).

The specific power, on the other hand, has quite a few different implications, most importantly in the available payload mass fraction of the spacecraft itself. Without a payload, of whatever type is needed, either scientific missions or crew life support and habitation modules, then there’s no point to the mission, and the specific power of the entire power and propulsion unit has a large impact on the amount of mass that is able to be brought on the mission.

Another factor to consider when designing an electrically propelled spacecraft is how the capabilities and limitations of the entire power and propulsion unit interact with the spacecraft itself. Just as in chemical and thermal rockets, the ratio of wet (or fueled) to dry (unfueled) mass has a direct impact on the vehicle’s capabilities: Tsiolkovsky’s rocket equation still applies, and in long missions there can be a significant mass of propellant on-board, despite the high isp of most of these thrusters. The specific mass of the power and propulsion system will have a huge impact on this, so the more power-dense, and more mass-efficient you are when converting your electricity into useful power for your thruster, the more capable the spacecraft will be.

Finally, the overall energy budget for the mission needs to be accounted for: how much change in velocity, or delta-v, is needed for the mission, and over what time period this change in velocity can be applied, are perhaps the biggest factors in selecting one type of thruster over another. We’ve already discussed the relative advantages and disadvantages of many of the different types of thrusters earlier, so we won’t examine it in detail again, but this consideration needs to be taken into account for any designed spacecraft.

With each of these factors applied appropriately, it’s possible to create a mathematical description of the spacecraft’s capabilities, and match it to a given mission profile, or (as is more common) to go the other way and design a spacecraft’s basic design parameters for a specific mission. After all, a spacecraft designed to deliver 100 kg of science payload to Jupiter in two years is going to have a very different design than one that’s designed to carry 100 kg to the Moon in two weeks, due to the huge differences in mission profile. The math itself isn’t that difficult, but for now we’ll stick with the general concepts, rather than going into the numbers (there are a number of dimensionless variables in the equations, and for a lot of people that becomes confusing to understand).

Let’s look instead at some of the more important parts of the power and propulsion unit that are tied more directly to the drives themselves.

Just as in any electrical system, you can’t just hook wires up to a battery, solar panel, or power conversion system and feed it into the thruster, the electricity needs to be conditioned first. This ensures the correct type of current (alternating or direct), the correct amount of current, the correct amperage… all the things that are done on Earth multiple times in our power grid have to be done on-board the spacecraft as well, and this is one of the biggest factors when it comes to what specific drive is placed on a particular satellite.

After the electricity is generated, it goes through a number of control systems to first ensure protection for the spacecraft from things like power surges and inappropriate routing, and then goes to a system to actually distribute the power, not just to the thruster, but to the rest of the on-board electrical systems. Each of these requires different levels of power, and as such there’s a complex series of systems to distribute and manage this power. If electric storage is used, for instance for a solar powered satellite, this is also where that energy is tapped off and used to charge the batteries (with the appropriate voltage and battery charge management capability).

After the electricity needed for other systems has been rerouted, it is directed into a system to ensure that the correct amount and type (AC, DC, necessary voltage, etc) of electricity is delivered to the thruster. These power conditioning units, or PCUs, are some of the most complex systems in an electric propulsion systems, and have to be highly reliable. Power fluctuations will affect the functioning of a thruster (possibly even forcing it to shut down in the case of too low a current), and in extreme cases can even damage a thruster, so this is a key function that must be provided by these systems. Due to this, some designers of electrical drive systems don’t design those systems in-house, instead selling the thruster alone, and the customer must contract or design the PCU independently of the supplier (although obviously with the supplier’s support).

Finally, the thermal load on the thruster itself needs to be managed. In many cases, small enough thermal loads on the thruster mean that radiation, or thermal convection through the propellant stream, is sufficient for managing this, but for high-powered systems, an additional waste heat removal system may be necessary. If this is the case, then it’s an additional system that needs to be designed and integrated into the system, and the amount of heat generated will play a major factor in the types of heat rejection used.

There’s a lot more than just these factors to consider when integrating an electric propulsion system into a spacecraft, but it tends to get fairly esoteric fairly quickly, and the best way to understand it is to look at the relevant mathematical functions for a better understanding. Up until this point, I’ve managed to avoid using the equations behind these concepts, because for many people it’s easier to grasp the concepts without the numbers. This will change in the future (as part of the web pages associated with these blog posts), but for now I’m going to continue to try and leave the math out of the posts themselves.

Conclusions, and Upcoming Posts

As we’ve seen, electric propulsion is a huge area of research and design, and one that extends all the way back to the dawn of rocketry. Despite a slow start, research has continued more or less continuously across the world in a wide range of different types of electric propulsion.

We also saw that the term “electric propulsion” is very vague, with a huge range of capabilities and limitations for each system. I was hoping to do a brief look at each type of electric propulsion in this post (but longer than a paragraph or two each), but sadly I discovered that just covering the general concepts, history, and integration of electric propulsion was already a longer-than-average blog post. So, instead, we got a brief glimpse into the most general basics of electrothermal, electrostatic, magnetoplasmadynamic, and photonic thrusters, with a lot more to come in the coming posts.

Finally, we looked at the challenges of integrating an electric propulsion system into a spacecraft, and some of the implications for the very wide range of capabilities and limitations that this drive concept offers. This is an area that will be expanded a lot as well, since we barely scratched the surface. We also briefly looked at the other electrical systems that a spacecraft has in between the power conversion system and the thruster itself, and some of the challenges associated with using electricity as your main propulsion system.

Our next post will look at two similar in concept, but different in mechanics, designs for electric propulsion: electrothermal and magnetoplasmadynamic thrusters. I’ve already written most of the electrothermal side, and have a good friend who’s far better than I at MPD, so hopefully that one will be coming soon.

The post after that will focus on electrostatic thrusters. Due to the fact that these are some of the most widely used, and also some of the most diverse in the mechanisms used, this may end up being its’ own post, but at this point I’m planning on also covering photon drive systems (mostly on-board but also lightsail-based concepts) in that post as well to wrap up our discussion on the particulars of electric propulsion.

Once we’ve finished our look at the different drive systems, we’ll look at how these systems don’t have to be standalone concepts. Many designs for crewed spacecraft integrate both thermal and electric nuclear propulsion into a single propulsion stage, bimodal nuclear thermal rockets. We’ll examine two different design concepts, one American (the Copernicus-B), and one Russian (the TEM stage), in that post, and look at the relative advantages and disadvantages of each concept.

I would like to acknowledge the huge amount of help that Roland Antonius Gabrielli of the University of Stuttgart Institute for Space Studies has been in this post, and the ones to follow. His knowledge of these topics has made this a far better post than it would have been without his invaluable input.

As ever, I hope you’ve enjoyed the post. Feel free to leave a comment below, and join our Facebook group to join in the discussion!

References:

History

A Critical History of Electric Propulsion: The First Fifty Years, Choueiri Princeton 2004 http://mae.princeton.edu/sites/default/files/ChoueiriHistJPC04.pdf

A Method and Means of Producing Jets of Electrified Gas, US Patent 1363037A, Goddard 1917 https://patents.google.com/patent/US1363037A/en

A Synopsis of Ion Propulsion Development Projects in the United States: SERT I to Deep Space 1, Sovey et al, NASA Glenn Research Center 1999 https://ntrs.nasa.gov/archive/nasa/casi.ntrs.nasa.gov/19990116725.pdf

History of the Hall Thruster’s Development in the USSR, Kim et al 2007 http://erps.spacegrant.org/uploads/images/images/iepc_articledownload_1988-2007/2007index/IEPC-2007-142.pdf

NSTAR Technology Validation, Brophy et al 2000 https://trs.jpl.nasa.gov/handle/2014/13884

Review Papers for Electric Propulsion

Electric Propulsion: Which One for my Spacecraft? Jordan 2000 http://www.stsci.edu/~jordan/other/electric_propulsion_3.pdf

Electric Propulsion, Jahn and Choueiri, Princeton University 2002 https://alfven.princeton.edu/publications/ep-encyclopedia-2001

Spacecraft Optimization

Joint Optimization of the Trajectory and the Main Parameters of an Electric Propulsion Spacecraft, Petukhov et al 2017 https://reader.elsevier.com/reader/sd/D49CFC08B1988AA61C8107737D614C89A86DB8DAE56D09D3E8E60C552C9566ABCBB8497CF9D0CDCFB9773815820C7678

Power Sources and Systems of Satellites and Deep Space Probes (slideshow), Farkas ESA http://www.ujfi.fei.stuba.sk/esa/slidy_prezentacie/power_sources_and_systems_of_satellites_and_deep_space_probes_mk_2.pdf