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In May 1961, Alan Shepard became the first American in space, but only after a four-hour hold on the launch pad left him with a full bladder and no collection device, until he finally told the launch team he would have to go inside his sealed pressure suit, briefly short-circuiting his medical sensors

16 June 2026 at 14:50

On the morning of May 5, 1961, Alan Shepard lay strapped on his back inside a capsule the size of a phone booth, breathing pure oxygen through a sealed pressure suit, waiting for a Redstone rocket beneath him to stop misbehaving. The countdown had already slipped past three hours. His bladder was full. The hatch was bolted shut. Mission control kept telling him to hold. Eventually, according to National Geographic’s reconstruction of the morning, Shepard told the engineers he was going to urinate inside the suit, and they let him.

The voltage sensors strapped to his chest and legs went briefly haywire. The cotton long johns beneath the silver pressure layer soaked through. The oxygen flow dried him out before liftoff. Fifteen minutes later he was the first American in space.

The episode is funny in the retelling and it almost always gets told as comedy. The serious part is what it exposed: nobody at NASA in the spring of 1961 had thought seriously about what a human body does over a four-hour hold inside a sealed suit wired to live electronics.

A 15-minute flight, a four-hour wait

Freedom 7’s mission was meant to be brief. Suborbital. Up and down. The capsule reached an altitude of 116.5 miles before splashing into the Atlantic, as Astronomy magazine’s day-in-history account records. Total flight time: about fifteen minutes.

The launch prep was a different story. Shepard had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He ate breakfast, suited up, and was sealed inside Freedom 7 in the pre-dawn dark, with the hatch bolted shut roughly two hours before the scheduled 7:20 a.m. launch. That window opened and closed without a liftoff.

Weather rolled in. A small inverter on the booster started acting up. An IBM 7090 computer at Goddard wanted to be checked. Each issue cost twenty minutes, then forty, then an hour. By the time the candle was finally lit at 9:34 a.m., Shepard had been horizontal in the capsule for more than four hours.

The plan was that he wouldn’t need to

There was no urine collection device inside the Mercury suit because the mission, as designed, did not require one. Fifteen minutes is shorter than most car commutes. The Mercury planners assumed the astronaut would empty his bladder before suit-up and be fine until splashdown.

What they did not plan for was the hold.

Shepard asked over the comm loop if he could get out and use the bathroom. The answer came back from the capsule communicator: no. Unstrapping him, opening the hatch, walking him down the gantry, suiting him back up, and resealing Freedom 7 would have cost hours and risked the whole mission. The Soviets had already put Yuri Gagarin in orbit on April 12, just three and a half weeks earlier. Every hour the U.S. delayed was another hour the rest of the world spent watching the Soviet Union look like the future.

Shepard pressed the question. According to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum’s account of the flight, no provision had been made for him to relieve himself, and the launch team eventually told him to go in the suit. The flight surgeons worried about the medical telemetry shorting out. The electrical engineers worried about the wires.

Alan Shepard Freedom 7 capsule

What the sensors actually did

The Mercury biomedical harness was not subtle. Shepard had electrodes on his chest reading heart rate, a respirometer at his face mask, and thermistors reading skin temperature at several locations including his lower torso and thighs. The wiring ran through the suit and into a connector at his waist that fed the capsule’s telemetry system.

When the urine pooled, the readings spiked. Heart-rate channels jumped. Skin-temperature numbers swung. The biomedical team at the Cape watched the trace and, briefly, lost confidence in what they were looking at.

The pure oxygen environment inside the suit then did what it does in a closed, ventilated space. It evaporated the moisture. By the time the engines lit, Shepard was uncomfortable but dry, and the sensors had settled back into something readable.

Forty-five million Americans watched the launch on live television, as the WDBJ7 anniversary recap notes. None of them knew. Shepard’s now-famous instruction to the launch team was broadcast in the clear. The other parts of that conversation were not.

The plumbing question, redesigned slowly

The popular telling of this story claims NASA redesigned every subsequent flight’s plumbing from scratch the next week. That overstates what actually happened. The fixes came in stages, and they were never as elegant as the rocket they were attached to.

Gus Grissom’s Liberty Bell 7 flight in July 1961 was the next Mercury launch and it, too, was suborbital and short. Grissom flew without a true urine collection device. By the time John Glenn was preparing to orbit the Earth in early 1962 — a flight that would last several hours — the problem could no longer be ignored. NASA engineers fitted Glenn’s suit with a modified condom catheter draining into a rubber collection bag strapped to his thigh. The design was crude. It leaked. Glenn used it anyway.

By the Gemini program, the urine collection assembly had become a standard suit component, with a one-way valve and a dump line that vented overboard. By Apollo, astronauts had dedicated devices for both liquid and solid waste, the latter being a now-infamous adhesive bag system that nobody on the lunar missions remembered fondly.

The through-line is that Shepard’s four-hour hold made the engineers stop assuming the human body would behave for the duration of the mission. Every long-duration assumption that followed — fluid management, electrolyte balance, the cooling garments under Apollo suits, the way modern spacewalk suits handle waste — traces back to the moment somebody at the Cape realized a flight surgeon’s planning chart did not survive contact with a real bladder on a real launch pad.

The pilot they nearly didn’t fly

The other thing the Shepard story exposes is how close the United States came to not flying him at all. NASA had originally planned a crewed Mercury launch in March 1961. A test flight with the chimpanzee Ham had revealed booster problems that Wernher von Braun insisted be fixed before a human was strapped on top.

That decision pushed the first crewed Mercury launch from March to May. In the gap, on April 12, Yuri Gagarin orbited the Earth. The Soviets had won the race to put a human in space, and they would have won it by a wider margin if von Braun had been less cautious.

Shepard was furious about the delay. He had been told privately in January that he was the choice for the first flight, beating out John Glenn and Gus Grissom. He spent the next several months training for a flight that kept slipping, watching Gagarin take the prize he had been promised.

When NASA finally announced his selection publicly days before the launch, Shepard was the most rehearsed astronaut in the program. He had run the fifteen-minute profile in the simulator more than a hundred times. He had not rehearsed the four-hour wait.

Mercury Redstone launch 1961

What carries down through the family

In December 2021, Shepard’s daughter Laura Shepard Churchley flew to the edge of space herself, on a Blue Origin New Shepard mission named for him. The launch experienced weather delays — delays of the same flavor, if not the same scale, as the ones that left her father stranded on the pad in 1961.

Her flight lasted about ten minutes. She wore a flight suit with modern moisture-wicking layers and the kind of plumbing options her father had been denied. She did not need them. The wait on the pad was short.

Why this story survives

There are more important facts about Alan Shepard’s flight. Freedom 7 proved that the Redstone-Mercury stack could put a human into ballistic flight and bring him home alive. It gave President Kennedy the political cover to commit, three weeks later, to a crewed lunar landing before the decade was out. It set the trajectory of American spaceflight for the next eight years and arguably the next sixty.

The plumbing story survives because it is the part of the morning that nobody planned. The trajectory was calculated to the second. The heat shield was tested to specifications. The retro-rockets were timed against tables. The bladder was not on anyone’s checklist.

That is what holds matter for. They are when the assumptions in the planning documents meet the body of the person inside the suit. Every long-duration mission since — Skylab, Mir, the ISS, the planned transit to Mars — is built on the recognition that a human inside a sealed system will, given enough time, do something the system was not designed for.

The archival footage from the launch shows Freedom 7 climbing on a pale exhaust plume against a Florida sky. The capsule looks impossibly small. The crowd on the beach looks impossibly close. The man inside is dry, just barely, and about to spend fifteen minutes earning the rest of the program’s future.

He landed in the Atlantic 302 miles downrange, was hoisted out of Freedom 7 by a helicopter from the carrier USS Lake Champlain, and reportedly asked for a glass of water.

The post In May 1961, Alan Shepard became the first American in space, but only after a four-hour hold on the launch pad left him with a full bladder and no collection device, until he finally told the launch team he would have to go inside his sealed pressure suit, briefly short-circuiting his medical sensors appeared first on Space Daily.

When John McFall lost his right leg at 19, no one could have known the former Paralympic sprinter might one day carry the first amputee body into orbit, where two weeks in microgravity could test what six decades of spaceflight medicine never measured

16 June 2026 at 14:09

John McFall lost his right leg in a motorcycle accident at 19, won a Paralympic bronze medal in Beijing, became an orthopaedic surgeon, and may now become the first person with a physical disability to live and work in orbit.

The proposed flight is not just a symbolic first. If it happens, McFall’s body and prosthesis will become instruments in a medical experiment that six decades of crewed spaceflight have barely begun to design.

The UK Space Agency has signed a memorandum of understanding with the California company Vast that could send McFall to Haven-1, the company’s planned commercial space station. The UK government says the agreement would have the UK Space Agency support Vast in seeking sponsorship to fund McFall’s flight, with Haven-1 scheduled for launch as early as 2027.

McFall could also fly on a private mission to the International Space Station with Vast. Either way, the science is unusually direct: what happens when a body that has already adapted to limb loss enters an environment where every body must relearn fluid balance, movement, heat transfer and load?

McFall was selected for the European Space Agency’s 2022 astronaut reserve and its Fly! feasibility study, which was created to understand and reduce barriers to spaceflight for astronauts with physical disabilities. ESA’s own profile notes that he was selected in November 2022 and took part in the Fly! study after the amputation of his right leg at age 19.

John McFall astronaut

A physiological experiment with a sample size of one

Almost everything known about the human body in microgravity comes from people who passed astronaut medical selection under able-bodied assumptions. McFall’s possible flight puts pressure on that history.

Kirsty Lindsay, a physiotherapist and physiologist who works in spaceflight research, framed the question in an analysis published in The Conversation: what happens to a body that already moves, balances and bears load differently when gravity is removed?

The honest answer is that no one knows yet. That uncertainty is not a weakness in the story. It is the point of the mission.

Writer Arthur C. Clarke imagined an amputee commanding a space station decades before the first human spaceflight. McFall’s mission would turn that old fiction into measurements taken from a real body in orbit.

The fluid-shift problem

On Earth, gravity helps pull fluids toward the legs. In orbit, that vertical gradient disappears, and body fluids shift toward the chest and head.

That headward movement is one of the suspects in spaceflight-associated neuro-ocular syndrome, or SANS, a cluster of eye and vision changes seen in some astronauts after long-duration missions. NASA-linked summaries of SANS describe optic-disc edema, globe flattening, choroidal folds and hyperopic shifts in long-duration astronauts, while noting that the exact cause is still unresolved.

McFall has less lower-limb tissue for fluid to occupy. His fluid shift, and any knock-on effect on vision, may not match the patterns measured in crewmates with two intact lower limbs.

One person cannot settle the science. But one carefully monitored flight can give researchers a first real datapoint where there is now mostly inference.

A spine already under uneven load

Microgravity changes the spine because the usual axial load of standing and walking disappears. Astronauts can experience back pain in flight, and the relationship between spinal unloading, intervertebral discs and postflight reloading remains a live medical concern.

Research on intervertebral-disc damage and spaceflight has described herniated discs after missions and raised the possibility that astronauts may face increased risk when reloaded by re-entry, landing and gravity. The evidence is not simple, because many astronauts also have histories of high-G aviation exposure, but the risk is serious enough to shape medical monitoring.

Lower-limb amputees often move with asymmetry through the pelvis and trunk. Reviews of amputee gait describe spinal, pelvic and hip movement asymmetries, and clinical work has long connected those adaptations with back-pain concerns.

That makes McFall’s spine medically interesting before launch. The key question is not whether his body is fragile. It is how a body already adapted to uneven loading responds when loading disappears, then returns suddenly during landing.

Heat, sockets and the engineering of the body

Temperature regulation is another open question. In microgravity, buoyancy-driven convection is reduced, so warm air does not rise around the body in the ordinary terrestrial way.

That matters because thermoregulation is partly environmental. Airflow, clothing, body shape and equipment all influence how heat moves away from skin.

Then there is the prosthesis itself. A socket is not a generic attachment. It is an intimate piece of engineering, fitted to a residual limb whose volume can change with activity, fluid balance, heat and time.

Prosthetic-socket research has repeatedly treated fit as a central problem, because pressure, shear and small volume changes at the residual-limb interface can determine whether a limb is usable for hours or painful within minutes. McFall’s socket in orbit will be a biomedical instrument as much as a mobility device.

The UK government says the proposed mission would study human physiology, musculoskeletal adaptation, prosthetics in microgravity, and movement and balance in space. Those findings could feed back into lighter, more adaptable prosthetic designs on Earth.

Certification was an engineering problem, not just a medical one

Much of the work to clear McFall has been mechanical rather than philosophical. Engineers and flight surgeons had to ask whether his prosthesis, seat interface, emergency procedures and body mechanics could work during launch, docking, emergency escape and landing.

ESA selected McFall in 2022 for the astronaut reserve and Fly! study. The UK government says he later became the first person with a physical disability to be medically cleared for a long-duration mission.

That clearance does not mean the proposed Haven-1 flight is guaranteed. It means the old assumption that a lower-limb amputation automatically blocks an astronaut from long-duration orbital work has been tested and did not hold.

Space Daily has previously reported on McFall’s medical clearance and on parallel work testing prosthetic mobility in zero gravity.

What a sample of one can actually prove

A two-week flight by one astronaut will not produce statistically powerful conclusions about amputees in microgravity. It will produce something earlier and more basic: a baseline.

The fluid-shift data, spinal imaging, thermal readings, socket-fit logs and movement recordings would become the first entries in a dataset that does not yet exist.

Future missions could build on that baseline. Groups such as AstroAccess have already run parabolic research flights with disabled crews, and commercial stations may give researchers more chances to test bodies that were historically excluded from astronaut selection.

The Vast agreement was formally announced by the UK government as a partnership in which the UK Space Agency would help Vast seek sponsorship for McFall’s mission. Crew would travel aboard SpaceX’s Crew Dragon capsule on a Falcon 9 rocket.

SpaceNews has reported that the UK is treating the Vast partnership as a way to re-establish a sovereign human-spaceflight presence without building a full national human-spaceflight program. The science and the geopolitics are moving together.

McFall has been careful about the way the mission is described. He has said he wants to do the job well, not be treated as a stunt, and that he is happy to be a pioneer only if the work has value for space exploration and for people on Earth.

Tim Peake, the last British ESA astronaut to live aboard the International Space Station, called the agreement a landmark moment for inclusive human spaceflight. That framing is true, but it understates the harder scientific point.

For more than sixty years, space medicine has studied the orbital body through a narrow physiological template. If McFall flies, the next measurement will not begin with that template. It will begin with a residual limb, a socket, a spine under different history, and a body answering questions spaceflight medicine never had to ask.

The post When John McFall lost his right leg at 19, no one could have known the former Paralympic sprinter might one day carry the first amputee body into orbit, where two weeks in microgravity could test what six decades of spaceflight medicine never measured appeared first on Space Daily.

Astronomers discover Sun-like star that likely swallowed one of its planets

16 June 2026 at 11:38

A team of astronomers has found strong evidence that a star similar to our sun may have eaten one of its own planets. The star, known as TOI-5882, is located about 1,300 light-years from Earth. Researchers discovered that it contains an unusually high amount of lithium, a chemical element that may reveal a dramatic event […]

The post Astronomers discover Sun-like star that likely swallowed one of its planets appeared first on Knowridge Science Report.

When SpaceX described a million AI data-center satellites, each first-generation craft stretched wider than a Boeing 747, and astronomers saw the same problem Rubin Observatory was built to hate: bright moving hardware crossing the faintest parts of the sky

16 June 2026 at 08:01

SpaceX’s first-generation AI data-center satellite is not a faint box in orbit. The reported AI1 design stretches about 70 meters across when deployed, carries a compute payload rated around 120 kilowatts on average and 150 kilowatts at peak, and uses up to 110 square meters of radiators to dump heat into space.

That geometry is why astronomers are watching the idea with such unease. A spacecraft that wide, reflective, and thermally exposed is not just a data-center proposal. It is a moving optical object, crossing the same dark sky that the Vera C. Rubin Observatory is about to scan with the largest digital camera ever built for astronomy.

The number attached to the plan is even stranger. SpaceX has been reported to have filed for or discussed a constellation that could eventually reach as many as 1 million orbital data-center satellites, a scale far beyond the roughly tens of thousands of satellites that already worry observatories.

The old version of this article used a stronger claim: that the full constellation would make the sky as bright as a half-moon everywhere on Earth. That claim is not used here because it could not be verified to a primary public source. The verified warning is narrower, but still severe: peer-reviewed and preprint modeling shows that very large or very bright satellite constellations can damage astronomical images through streaks, glints, detector saturation, false alerts, and added sky background.

satellite trails crossing a dark astronomical sky

A data center with wings wider than a jumbo jet

According to Tom’s Hardware’s report on SpaceX’s AI1 design, the first-generation craft would span about 70 meters when deployed, slightly wider than the 68.4-meter wingspan of a Boeing 747-8. The same report describes an average compute load of 120 kilowatts, a 150-kilowatt peak, and operation at roughly 600 kilometers altitude.

Those figures matter because optical astronomy is sensitive to surface area, altitude, attitude, and reflectivity. A satellite does not have to look bright to the unaided eye to be damaging to a long astronomical exposure. It only has to throw enough sunlight into a detector built to capture photons from objects billions of times fainter.

The radiator figure is the detail that turns a computing story into a sky story. On Earth, a rack-scale AI system can shed heat into circulating air and water. In orbit, there is no air and no water sink. Heat has to leave through radiators, which means a spacecraft built to compute at high power also has to carry surfaces designed to face cold space.

That does not automatically mean AI1 would be disastrously bright. Brightness depends on coating, orientation, phase angle, orbital altitude, and whether the spacecraft is in deployment, parking, or operational mode. But it does mean the relevant object is not a small Starlink-like box. It is a large deployed spacecraft with solar arrays, radiators, and thermal surfaces that astronomers would need to model before they could know how much sky it changes.

Why magnitude 7 became the line astronomers keep returning to

The most repeated technical threshold in the astronomy debate is magnitude 7. In the astronomical magnitude system, lower numbers mean brighter objects. Venus can appear around magnitude -4, bright stars sit near magnitude 0 or 1, and the unaided human eye under dark skies generally stops around magnitude 6 or a little fainter.

For modern survey telescopes, naked-eye visibility is the wrong test. A satellite can be invisible to a person and still saturate a scientific detector. In a 2025 Rubin Observatory LSST workshop report, participants reaffirmed the recommendation that tracked low-Earth-orbit satellites should be no brighter than 7th AB magnitude for the protection of Rubin-style optical survey work.

That recommendation came after years of Starlink mitigation work. A 2020 Rubin Observatory study on LEO satellite brightness and trail effects found that the original Starlink satellites were around g magnitude 4.5, while the experimental DarkSat reached about g magnitude 6.1. The authors wrote that future darkening might reach g magnitude 7, a level at which nonlinear image artifacts could be corrected far below background noise, though the trails would still remain.

A later study of Starlink Mini brightness distributions found that the sky area containing satellites brighter than magnitudes 6 and 7 is largest during twilight. That matters for surveys looking near the Sun’s direction, including searches for near-Earth asteroids and other objects that are hardest to observe in full darkness.

SpaceX has been credited by some astronomers for engaging on brightness mitigation more seriously than many operators. That history is real. It is also the reason AI1 is being judged against a known standard rather than a vague complaint about satellites looking ugly in long-exposure photographs.

Rubin Observatory is built to find faint things quickly

The Vera C. Rubin Observatory sits on Cerro Pachón in Chile, where its Legacy Survey of Space and Time is designed to scan the southern sky repeatedly for ten years. Its wide field, fast cadence, and enormous LSST Camera are what make it powerful. They are also what make it exposed.

Rubin is meant to catch things that move, flare, fade, or appear only once: supernovas, asteroids, distant Solar System bodies, variable stars, and optical counterparts to gravitational-wave events. A satellite trail is not just a line through a pretty picture. It can mask pixels, create residual noise, trigger false detections, and contaminate the statistical measurements that depend on clean repeated imaging.

In a 2022 Rubin satellite-avoidance study, researchers simulated Starlink and OneWeb constellations totaling about 40,000 satellites. They found that, with reasonably accurate orbit forecasts, sacrificing about 10 percent of LSST observing time could cut the fraction of visits with streaks by about half.

That is a mitigation, not a cure. The same paper noted that the need for avoidance depends on satellite brightness, glints, low-surface-brightness residuals, and the effect on alert purity and systematic errors. Those are exactly the unknowns that a very large orbital data-center constellation would multiply.

A million satellites would not behave like 40,000 satellites scaled up neatly on a spreadsheet. Launch cadence, parking orbits, orbit raising, failed units, replacements, attitude modes, and end-of-life disposal would all matter. The sky problem is not just the final architecture. It is the moving assembly line required to build and maintain it.

BlueWalker 3 showed what one large reflective spacecraft can do

Astronomers already have a warning case for large deployed satellites. AST SpaceMobile’s BlueWalker 3 unfolded a large phased-array antenna in 2022, and observers quickly found that it became one of the brighter artificial objects in the night sky.

In a 2023 photometric study of BlueWalker 3, Anthony Mallama, Richard E. Cole, Scott Tilley, Cees Bassa, and Scott Harrington reported that the satellite was most frequently between magnitudes 2.0 and 3.0, and about magnitude 1.4 when near zenith. That is bright enough to rival prominent stars.

A follow-up BlueWalker 3 Redux paper found that the spacecraft later faded, with the average maximum luminosity near zenith reduced from magnitude 1.0 to 2.2. Even after that improvement, the authors wrote that it remained usually bright enough to interfere with astronomical research.

The lesson is not that AI1 would necessarily match BlueWalker 3. The spacecraft are different. The lesson is that large deployed areas in low Earth orbit can become astronomy problems immediately, and mitigation may depend on details that are hard to judge from a promotional render: the underside coating, the solar-array angle, the radiator attitude, and the exact shape of the reflectance curve.

Space Daily has also covered the broader expansion of satellite constellations and radio astronomy concerns, a parallel problem in which optical glare is only one part of a larger fight over the usable sky.

Glints are a separate problem from streaks

Satellite streaks are the obvious signature. A spacecraft crosses a long exposure and draws a bright line across a frame. Glints are shorter and more deceptive: a flat surface briefly catches sunlight and flashes, sometimes for milliseconds, sometimes in a way that looks less like a moving satellite and more like a sudden astrophysical event.

A 2023 study of satellite glints in ZTF and LSST-style surveys found that artificial satellites and space debris can create false point-source alerts that hinder the search for rapid transients. Using more than three years of Zwicky Transient Facility data, the authors estimated that at least 20 percent of isolated single-frame events were related to artificial satellites, with an all-sky glint rate up to 80,000 per hour.

That is the kind of noise Rubin was not built to ignore casually. A survey that watches the sky for one-off flashes has to decide whether a bright pixel is a satellite reflection, a detector artifact, a supernova, a gamma-ray burst afterglow, a kilonova, or something nobody has classified before.

If an orbital data-center satellite has large radiators, solar arrays, and changing attitude states, its glint behavior matters as much as its average brightness. The most damaging moment may not be the average pass. It may be the rare angle where a thermal or power surface sends sunlight straight into the telescope.

The most defensible warning is not a half-moon, but a crowding limit

The strongest recent modeling does not need the unverified half-moon line. In a 2026 study of large and bright satellite constellations, European Southern Observatory astronomer Olivier Hainaut modeled direct trail losses, diffuse satellite light, and scattered sky brightness from proposed constellations.

The results separate dim satellites from bright ones. Hainaut found that a constellation of about 60,000 satellites kept fainter than the V 550-kilometer magnitude-7 recommendation would add only about one ten-thousandth of the natural dark-sky brightness. But the same study found that constellations with 1 million satellites make trails pervasive, and that extremely bright reflector-style constellations could raise the scattered sky background by 200 to 300 percent.

The study also recommended keeping the total satellite population below roughly 100,000 if field-of-view losses are to remain comparable to ordinary technical downtime. That figure is not a law of physics or an international regulation. It is a modeled guardrail for astronomy, and SpaceX’s discussed million-satellite scale sits an order of magnitude beyond it.

This is the defensible version of the warning: not that AI1 has already been proven to turn every sky into permanent moonlight, but that a million large spacecraft would push astronomy into a regime where the existing mitigation playbook was never designed to operate. At that scale, even individually managed satellites become a foreground population.

For now, the sky still changes the old way. Twilight lowers, satellites brighten and fade, and the dark between them returns. The question raised by orbital data centers is whether that darkness remains a background condition of astronomy, or becomes something telescopes have to chase between machines.

The post When SpaceX described a million AI data-center satellites, each first-generation craft stretched wider than a Boeing 747, and astronomers saw the same problem Rubin Observatory was built to hate: bright moving hardware crossing the faintest parts of the sky appeared first on Space Daily.

A star’s death throes involves a lot of kicking

When stars like our Sun age, they puff up into red giants. Their bubbling outer mass gradually escapes into space, and their remaining cores contract into white dwarfs. Since most stars end their lives this way, the universe is teeming with white dwarfs. A new study from Caltech’s Jim Fuller, professor of theoretical astrophysics, proposes a […]

The post A star’s death throes involves a lot of kicking appeared first on Knowridge Science Report.

The best place to look for alien megastructures might be moon dust

16 June 2026 at 01:56

Our search for technosignatures – clear signs of advanced civilizations beyond Earth – takes many forms. Many are driven by the famous Drake equation, which attempts to estimate how many technological civilizations there are in the Milky Way. However, there’s a big fat question mark at the end of that equation in the form of […]

The post The best place to look for alien megastructures might be moon dust appeared first on Knowridge Science Report.

Key mission for Europe's commercial space enterprise scrubbed again

16 June 2026 at 00:40

Isar Aerospace still commands top position among a new generation of European rocket startups, but the company's efforts to launch a critical test flight of its Spectrum rocket continue to encounter roadblocks.

The latest delay came Monday, when Isar scrubbed a launch attempt after "detecting off nominal behavior in the vehicle's fluid systems," according to a social media post. "The teams are analyzing the new data to isolate the root cause."

The two-stage, 92-foot-tall (28-meter) Spectrum rocket was awaiting liftoff from Andøya Spaceport in northern Norway. It was the fourth time in five months that Isar Aerospace, headquartered near Munich, Germany, had reached a target launch date for the second test flight of the Spectrum launch vehicle.

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© Isar Aerospace

Key mission for Europe's commercial space enterprise scrubbed again

16 June 2026 at 00:40

Isar Aerospace still commands top position among a new generation of European rocket startups, but the company's efforts to launch a critical test flight of its Spectrum rocket continue to encounter roadblocks.

The latest delay came Monday, when Isar scrubbed a launch attempt after "detecting off nominal behavior in the vehicle's fluid systems," according to a social media post. "The teams are analyzing the new data to isolate the root cause."

The two-stage, 92-foot-tall (28-meter) Spectrum rocket was awaiting liftoff from Andøya Spaceport in northern Norway. It was the fourth time in five months that Isar Aerospace, headquartered near Munich, Germany, had reached a target launch date for the second test flight of the Spectrum launch vehicle.

Read full article

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© Isar Aerospace

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