You might think that by now NASA would have mastered all there is to know about the flight characteristics of a long, pointy tube, but NASA is nothing if not thorough. So it is that Gary Erickson and two other veteran NASA aerodynamics researchers at the agency's Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia, are huddled around a 33-inch-long version of what may be mankind's ticket to the cosmos. "We wouldn't want it to be any longer," explains Erickson, "because shock waves from the model would bounce off the wind-tunnel walls and catch the end of the model."
The teeniness of the test subject and its staid laboratory setting seem almost comical compared with the dramatic plans that hang on the full-scale incarnation of this piece of hardware and its cousins, which are also being wind-tunnel-tested in extreme miniature, here and at two other NASA facilities across the United States. They are nothing less than the future of America's manned space program. These rockets and crew capsules so far exist only as small models, crude foam mock-ups, and computer-graphics files. In many ways, though, their nonreality is a mere technicality. NASA and its allies have already made the big design decisions, started awarding the contracts, and most important, budgeted the money (well, some of it) to build a successor to the star-crossed space shuttle. There's even a name for NASA's new rockets: Ares.
Michael Griffin, NASA's cherubic and relentlessly optimistic administrator, hopes that names are destiny: He is promising that Ares will launch mankind outward to the fourth planet of our solar system, a dream of virtually everyone ever involved in the space program, but one that has been abandoned repeatedly in the past. Griffin may well be the person to see to it that NASA finally pulls it off. "I am an unabashed supporter of space exploration in general and of human spaceflight in particular," Griffin told Congress in 2003, when he called for a human return to the moon and a trip to Mars. "I believe that the human spaceflight program is in the long run possibly the most significant activity in which our nation is engaged." On April 13, 2005, Congress confirmed President George W. Bush's appointment of Griffin to the position to make it happen.
The new space vehicles will carry astronauts back to the moon starting near the end of the next decade. These ramping-up missions will include the building of a lunar base and scientific projects like the construction of a telescope on the moon's south pole. They will also give NASA an opportunity to shake off the missteps that for more than three decades have left us stuck in low Earth orbit with a troubled space shuttle and a largely irrelevant International Space Station—programs that together will have cost roughly $250 billion by the time they are paid for. In other words, NASA is poised to pick up human space exploration where Apollo left off in 1972. It's no coincidence that the designs for the new astronaut-toting vehicle have eschewed the rakish, Tomorrowland look of the shuttle in favor of the workaday blunt-gumdrop-on-top-of-a-paper-towel-tube approach of NASA's 1960s heyday.
Griffin's plan sounds solid enough: Learn to put astronauts on the moon for months at a time, then use the hardware and experience to continue on to Mars. A closer look reveals a scheme fraught with peril and potentially insurmountable obstacles, though not necessarily of the sort you might expect given the vast distances and harsh environments involved in a trip to Mars. "I don't think there's any big problem from a technical point of view in executing this mission," says R. John Hansman, an aeronautics and astronautics professor at MIT. "The problem is whether NASA has the right program for executing it." Specifically, say Hansman and a wide range of other space experts, Griffin has committed most of NASA's expected funding for the next several decades to a program that stands a very good chance of falling far short of the Red Planet, thanks to what may prove to be a trillion-dollar price tag. Meanwhile, NASA's scientific programs are already being choked to free up funds for the manned program.
As a Texas hold 'em poker fan might put it, Griffin has gone all in. He's pushed all the chips toward the center of the table in what may be one of the biggest bets in the history of human endeavor. If the cards break favorably, he'll probably be hailed as the visionary administrator who roused space travel from its somnolent state and laid the groundwork for humans setting foot, for the first time, on another planet. If they don't, he'll have set NASA up to squander hundreds of billions of dollars while consigning some of the most ambitious science projects ever conceived to the trash heap.















