So you give someone an inch and they want a yard. Given them a rocket ship and suddenly they want a star ship. SF writers want to use exotic settings on alien planets, but the real estate in our solar system mostly looks like a bunch of rocks. "That's OK," the writer thinks, "There are a million-jillion other solar systems in the galaxy, surely they are not all a bunch of rocks (I know they are there, I've got a map). I know that those spoil-sports at NASA have ruined our solar system for SF writers since their nosy space probes failed to find dinosaur-infested jungles of Venus and scantily-clad Martian princesses. But they haven't sent probes to other stars yet! Why not turn my rocket ship into a star ship?"
Unfortunately it isn't that easy. The basic problem is that interstellar distances are freaking huge.
Let's make a mental model. Say the scale is such that one astronomical unit is equal to one millimeter (1/25th inch). There is a glowing dot for the Sun, and one millimeter away is a microscopic speck representing the Earth. The edge of the solar system is about at Pluto's orbit, which varies from 30 mm to 50 mm from the Sun (about 1 and 3/16 inch to almost 2 inches). Imagine this ten-centimeter model floating above your palm.
This would put Proxima Centauri, the closest star to the Sun, at about 272 meters away. That's 892 feet, the length of about two and a half football fields or four and a half New York city blocks! Glance at the ten-centimeter solar system in your hand, then contemplate the nearest solar system four and a half city blocks away.
And the center of the galaxy would be about 1600 kilometers away (about 990 miles), which is a bit more than the distance from Chicago, Illinois to Houston, Texas.
"All right, all right!" the SF author grumbles, "So the distance is outrageous. What of it?"
This of it. How long do you think it is going to take to travel such distances? As an example, the Voyager 1 space probe is currently the fastest human made object with a rest mass, zipping along at a blazing 17.46 km/s. This means that in the space of an eyeblink the little speed demon travels a whopping eleven miles! That's smokin'. What if it was aimed at Proxima Centauri (it isn't), how long would it take to reach it?
About 74,000 years! Which means that if Neanderthal men had launched something as fast as Voyager 1 to Proxima, it would just barely be arriving right now. And the joke's on them. Neanderthals are extinct so not even their descendants would reap the benefit of any scientific broadcasts from the Proxima probe. A similar argument could be used against any interstellar probes we could launch.
This leaves us with two alternatives: deal with the fact that average human lifespan is 74 years, not 74,000; or make the starship go faster.
Well, three, if you count "faster than light", but that will be covered later.
For arbitrary reasons I am defining an Apocee starship as one which cruises at a speed below 14% of the speed of light (0.14c). This is because that is the speed where the relativistic gamma factor reaches 101% (γ = 1.01). I warned you it was arbitrary.
Overview
INTERSTELLAR METHODS AND MOTIVES
One must carefully understand the ground rules when speculating about
interstellar travel. Compared to most discussions of vehicles, systems or
capabilities, the ground rules are totally different. In the latter half of this
talk, I'm going to pay a great deal of attention to confining myself to such
things as radiator temperatures which are reasonable, and various other
practicalities. When one sits back and discusses interstellar travel, however,
one talks of not just now or the next century, but of cosmic time
scales. Vast advances in technology throughout the centuries are assumed,
and all engineering problems are assumed solvable. One worries only about
violating physical fundamentals. The more intelligent people worry about
whether we even know what fundamentals to violate, but that makes the story
even more complicated. In general, one talks about grand things. Are there
other civilizations out there? If there are, are the fundamental barriers
due to Einstein's limitations on velocity of travel so great that no. civilization
imaginable could ever hope to travel such distances? Should we listen,
as the radio astronomers say, and hope to learn something from these supercivilizations?
The discussion is always in the context of an overall deep
philosophical sort of thing. That's the context of the first part of this talk.
I will tell you when I shift gears and get rational. Unfortunately, you may
have to be told this.
Figure 1
We can delineate these two regions by means of Figure 1, which is a
plot of specific impulse versus dilution ratio for perfect containment. Fission
rockets are on the lower curve and fusion rockets on the higher. A perfect
mass annihilation system is shown at the top. I've defined several regions
on Figure 1. If we were to operate a rocket with nothing but nuclear fuel
(very low dilution ratio), a very high specific impulse, over a million seconds,
would result. The temperatures are just tremendous, however, and no
one knows how. to begin to handle them. A lot of hydrogen, or some other
propellant, can be put through the reactor to decrease the temperature. The
solid core region down at the bottom, which we're all familiar with, is
limited to a low value of specific impulse because of the temperature limitations
on the solid-core materials. We can get higher performance by going
to gaseous-core rockets or Orion which at least do not run headlong into the
materials temperature barrier. This higher region I have labeled the Solar
System Transport Region, and is the region I'm going to cover in the second
half of the talk. The top region, labeled Early Interstellar Travel, is the
region of the first part of my talk. I'm going to cover only undiluted fusion
rockets. I will not bother with mass annihilation rockets, although people
who discuss interstellar travel are not at all adverse to describing rocket
ships operating with 100 percent efficiency on the complete annihilation of
matter. It's bad enough to talk about undiluted fusion rockets, which I'm
sure you'll recognize we do not know how to build.
Figure 2
Under interstellar ground rules, some very interesting things materialize.
I find that I disagree with a number of basic points which some people seem
to think are great. Figure 2 contains most of my complaints all in one
place. It shows a, curve of initial weight of rocket over final weight as a
function of rocket maximum velocity divided by the velocity of light. This
curve is for what I call a perfect fusion rocket. This means that not only
is the fusion reaction running like mad with perfect efficiency while throwing
only fusion fuel out the back, but in addition the rocket has a reasonable
thrust/weight ratio like one or two. I haven't the remotest idea of how to
build anything like that. still, at least it is something that I am using a
fairly legitimate fusion reaction rather than talking matter annihilation.
The weight variation of Figure 2 was calculated including relativistic
effects. The interesting thing, as we all know, is due to a curve ball thrown
by Einstein. In the region of one-third the speed of light, the rocket initial
weight is about 100 times the final weight. In actuality, we build probes today
with weight ratios in the thousands, so that fusion rockets of up to 0.4
the speed of light are imaginable. From there on, however, they start getting
very, very large. To get very close to the speed of light, the weight
of the rocket becomes ridiculous. Now almost everyone who studies interstellar
travel assumes that it does not make sense until 99 percent of the
speed of light has been attained. You can guess the kind of rocket required
at that speed. I didn't even bother to plot it, and I am almost fearless as
far as plotting rocket weights is concerned.
I, myself, do not understand why people seem to have this compulsion
to examine casually low velocity rockets, then immediately jump to 99 percent
of the speed of light. As a so-called engineer, I've made many mistakes
in my life by taking only one point at each end of a curve and thinking
I understood what went on in between. At one-third the speed of light, the
travel duration in earth time is only three times that at the speed of light.
Of course, we might decide to approach the speed of light in order to reduce
ship time by means of the time dilation effect. This relativistic time dilation
is also shown on Figure 2.
Approaching the speed of light closely is the only way open to physicists
for dilating time. Presumably, there are no narrow-minded physicists
here, however, and we all recognize that there are other disciplines in the
world. One of them is biology. Although I am never quite sure of what is
going on in the field of biology, some pretty weird things have been happening
in the last few years. I get the impression that we are getting closer
and closer, by deep freeze and other techniques, to learning about hibernation.
Hibernation is biological time dilation. With biological time dilation,
it is conceivable not only that one could come clear down to zero time, but
also that this could be both for ship and for some earth time. If your wife
loves you enough, she, too, can step into a deep freeze until you get back.
This brings up a small question as to who has the key to the deep freeze.
Regardless of such practical problems, the point is you can't dilate earth
time by ship velocity, no matter how fast you drive the ship.
The question of whether one is at all interested in ships which travel
at one-third the speed of light, or feel that almost the speed of light is required,
therefore, has a great deal to do with a totally different discipline
from physics. If the biologists do something about hibernation, they will
exert a much greater leverage, both on earth and in the ability to build
reasonable starships, than any possible attempt to drive ships out to the
speed of light. So far as I am concerned, the people that make analyses
with speeds only 1 percent lower than the speed of light, then conclude,
"This is preposterous; we could never go there," are really performing a
pretty naive systems analysis of interstellar travel.
Even at only one-third the speed of light, these are pretty cute ships.
Other than bombs, I'm not sure that this Laboratory has done a very good
job of controlling fusion reactions yet; and this rocket must be light weight,
have perfect efficiency, and be safe. Furthermore, this ship, compared to
one utilizing a gaseous fission engine, must control about three orders of
magnitude higher thermal fluxes in order to keep from vaporizing. In addition,
there is another factor of about four orders of magnitude on total power
generated to obtain these speeds. Because the resulting shielding penalties
are pretty horrendous, the actual payload carried will be a small fraction of
the final weight.
Figure 3
Figure 3 is a plot of the initial power of a perfect rocket with final
weight of 10,000 pounds as a function of maximum design velocity. The
right-hand scale gives the power which would have to be rejected by a radiator
system, assuming 10 percent of the energy soaked into the structure.
Also shown is a typical number for a gaseous fission engine of about 2,500
seconds specific impulse and one million pounds of thrust, the sort of engines
we'll talk about later. For a ship to generate 0.3 the velocity of light, it
must improve three orders. of magnitude or so in its energy handling capability
for the same thrust level. If you did get these reactions running, if
you could understand how to do this at a reasonable weight, we still have
three orders of magnitude of energy which somehow has to be taken in and
out of the structure, or we're going to vaporize the ship right on the spot.
So, even if you could turn around tomorrow and say, "Here' s the engine,"
it's not clear at all that we could use it on these missions.
On the other hand, this is only 3 orders of magnitude, not 30 orders
of magnitude. In any given year, 3 orders of magnitude sounds pretty grim
to us, but that kind of number has been known to be run over in development
programs in a relatively few decades. There are ways in which it
might be possible to cut this number down. Ten percent of energy soaked
into the structure is typical of a gaseous fission engine. An Orion system
does not put as high a percentage of its energy into the structure. Any
case where a fusion reaction would be different from a fission, reaction and
put less energy into the structure lowers the number. When the reaction is
not moderated, then we might have the reaction running in a relatively transparent
engine shell, so that a lot of the energy would go straight through.
If the opaqueness were only 1 percent, that would be an order of magnitude.
I'm not saying that I know even remotely how to begin this. I'm simply
throwing out some suggestions to indicate that from here to there just may
not be centuries, it may be something like decades. Many people throw up
their hands and say, "Forevermore, there will never be any interstellar
travel. It doesn't make any sense." They are saying that forevermore
we're not going to improve our energy control by three orders of magnitude.
I' m not sure that is a suitably cosmic viewpoint.
I couldn't resist spotting the power of the sun on Figure 3. In the
region beyond 96 percent of the velocity of light, the rocket is putting out
more power than 'the whole sun. Once again, it's easy to decide that it's
a pretty preposterous idea — and it is. Although, I don't know; I don't trust
you people. I think maybe a design that would do that might be appealing
to some here.
Figure 4
Now that we have settled the fact that we can have such ships, it
seemed appropriate to present a picture of the whole galaxy as seen by a
star ship designer. Figure 4 shows the number of stars in our galaxy versus
the distance in light years away from the star we're located near now. I
would prefer not to put much of my reputation behind the accuracy of these
curves. The top curve shows the total number of stars. Presumably, a
good astrophysicist, at least for a while, would be interested in a close look
at most any of them. Furthermore, we have reason to suspect that F, G,
and K type stars, considering their rates of rotation, have planetary systems.
They constitute about 5 percent of the stars. They are likely to be
of more lasting interest than stars without planets. This was the basis for
drawing the curve labeled planetary astrophysical interest.
This still leaves the question of contact with an alien race. Since the
radio-astronomers say we should do nothing but listen for the rest of our
lives, the question of the probability of an alien transmission arises. It is,
to say the least, a difficult estimate to make. We have a pretty good reason
to believe that there are an awful lot of stellar systems with planets. We
also have a lot of reason to believe, due to the researches on chemical
evolution, that life would arise spontaneously on most of these. There still
remains the question of the rise of intelligence and the rise of culture.
Furthermore, if a culture reaches the point where it wants to communicate,
how long will it have the urge? Our culture has not been communicating
very long. Over any distance, it's only a few decades and in terms of
written records, only a few millenia. It could be that after another 5,000
years, the human race won't have a scientific culture. We may be living
at the height of the scientific society. Maybe in another hundred years, it'll
all be philosophical and no one will develop anything — a hundred years, that
is! Perhaps our descendants will not care about communicating with anyone.
Even today, there are a lot of people on this planet that I couldn't care less
about communicating with. I might add that this is healthily returned with
respect to me by a lot of people on the same planet.
The bottom curve labeled social interest assumed that life would develop
at each F, G, and K type star, that after 5 billion years it would produce
a society, and that the average society would only be actively interested
in communicating with other civilizations for about 50,000 years. The 5 billion
years is based on precisely one data point; namely, the time required
by our star to produce a society. I've often wondered what will happen if
we get two data points on that subject. The 50,000 years is based on even
less data. If those assumptions are correct, however, the bottom curve results.
It is not surprising that there is a tendency for the radio-astronomers
to say that we should never try to go to the stars. The galaxy is a big
place and there should be plenty of communicating societies, but the nearest
one is a very long ways off. If only currently communicating societies interest
us, perhaps all we should do is listen from here, and hope to learn
something.
I think the astronomers are missing a point, not even counting the fact
that I don't think they know very much about rockets. There is another
class of stellar system which should interest us. This interest is created
because a ship that goes there is, in a way, a time machine. We only possess
deliberate communication records of a society on this planet for a few
thousand years. We have looked hundreds of millions of years into the past,
however, learning things of biological interest such as the patterns of the
development of life. Therefore, if one goes to a place and explores, one
can look both back and ahead in time as compared with the limited real
time contact with any currently communicating society. I don't think anyone
in this room has ever talked to a dinosaur, but we've learned quite a
bit about the age of the dinosaurs over a hundred million years ago. You
may not know whether to bring micro-biolbgists or archeologists, but you
are able to look both back and forward in time. If you assume 500 million
years as the time during which a planet has biological interest based on our
own use of data from a comparable time on this planet, then the remaining
curve on Figure 4 results.
Figure 5
The probable time of data return from the stars is shown on Figure 5.
For travel, it was assumed that the ships would travel at one-third the speed
of light, then transmit data back at the speed of light after arrival. For
communicating, the assumption was that a signal was received from the most
probable distance tomorrow which we immediately returned to this advanced
civilization which then, in turn, sent it back to earth. The travel curves
show data return if you start sending ships tomorrow and the communication
curve is the time for data return if you receive a signal tomorrow.
The receipt of any signal tomorrow from an alien race would be extremely
stimulating, and it is obviously well worth listening. It would seem
that if you stick only to listening, however, it would take 1,000 years for a
reply if we heard tomorrow from the most probable distance. If one travels
for purely stellar physics interests, one can get results much earlier. Even
for planetary interests as well as stellar, the results are earlier. In fact,
within 100 years, information should have been picked up from 15 or so
stars with planets, one or two of which should have data of biological interest.
If one sticks to only listening, another 900 years must pass before
anything happens.
It is apparently fashionable today to say, "Only communicating is the
thing to do. Travel is nonsense, and belongs back on the cereal boxes."
But only the bottom curve of Figure 5 is available to the listeners and
thinkers, while the other curves are available to the 'goers and doers.' I
wish to make a historical point which is true, regardless of what you may
think today in our current intellectual framework. All of the history of this
race is squarely on the side of the 'goers and doers.'