Artemis II
Welcome to the trajectory planning terminal, where prepositions matter more than you’d expect when billions of dollars and human lives depend on the difference between going TO something and going ON something. In this examination of Artemis II, we discover that institutional knowledge evaporates faster than you’d think—fifty years is enough time for engineers to retire, facilities to be demolished, and an entire civilization to forget how to do something it supposedly mastered in 1969.
Our quantum-coherent correspondent guides us through the Apollo legacy gap—when twelve astronauts walked on the Moon and then humanity simply stopped for half a century—a Square-Haired Boss learning that “around” and “onto” are different orbital mechanics, and the discovery that sometimes 847 T-shirts need reprinting because someone confused a flyby mission with a landing mission. Meanwhile, the real science reveals why NASA had to rebuild everything from Saturn V manufacturing capabilities to heat shield technology, how Artemis I’s 2022 uncrewed test revealed problems that delayed the crewed mission by two years, and why China’s 2030 landing goal means this is less a scientific endeavour and more a geopolitical sprint to write the rules for lunar resource utilisation.
Mission Parameter Warning: This episode contains concepts such as “free-return trajectories,” “trans-lunar injection burns,” and “the distinction between Commander Reid Wiseman going near the Moon versus landing on it.” Listeners may experience side effects including appreciation for prerequisite missions that prove you can do the thing before actually doing it, understanding why SpaceX developing Starship for Mars whilst NASA needs it for the Moon creates scheduling tension, and the uncomfortable realization that fifty years of institutional memory loss means we’re essentially relearning how to do something we already did six times in the 1970s. Side effects are considered normal and may persist until you question why printed directions from MapQuest seem less absurd than spending billions to fly around the Moon without landing.
The Fifty-Year Gap (Or: How to Lose Institutional Knowledge)
The last humans to venture near the Moon were the crew of Apollo 17 in December 1972: Eugene Cernan and Harrison Schmitt, who walked on the surface, and Ronald Evans, who remained in lunar orbit. Twelve astronauts had walked on the lunar surface across six missions. Then—complete stop. For over fifty years, humanity simply didn’t go back. That gap wasn’t just a scheduling issue—it was institutional amnesia on a civilizational scale.
The engineers who designed the Saturn V retired or passed away. The manufacturing facilities were demolished. The suppliers went out of business. NASA didn’t just lose the rockets—it lost the knowledge of how to build them. The original Apollo blueprints still exist, but they’re insufficient for modern safety standards. Apollo operated under 1960s-era risk tolerance, considerably more cavalier than today’s approach to not killing astronauts. Everything had to be rebuilt from scratch to modern specifications.
The Space Launch System is the most powerful rocket since the Saturn V, but it’s entirely new engineering. Orion spacecraft shares nothing with Apollo beyond the basic concept of “capsule that keeps humans alive in space.” Launch Complex 39B was completely reconstructed. This is why Artemis I mattered so desperately—the November 2022 uncrewed test that travelled 270,000 miles from Earth and revealed the heat shield charred more than predicted, delaying Artemis II from 2024 to February 2026.
The Corporate Parallel: It’s like a company trying to recreate a product from fifty years ago when the original engineers have retired or died, manufacturing facilities were demolished decades ago, suppliers pivoted to different industries, and your documentation consists of incomplete blueprints that don’t meet current safety regulations. But Marketing has already promised clients it’ll work exactly like the original. And unlike typical corporate promises, if this one fails, people don’t just lose money—they die in vacuum whilst the world watches on live television. Sometimes the most expensive lessons are the ones about reading the entire mission brief before announcing landing plans.
Four Astronauts, Ten Days, Zero Landings
Commander Reid Wiseman (165 days on ISS, two spacewalks, systems engineering background), Pilot Victor Glover (first person of colour to the Moon, SpaceX Crew-1 veteran, four spacewalks), Mission Specialist Christina Koch (first woman to the Moon, 328-day ISS record, first all-female spacewalk), and Mission Specialist Jeremy Hansen (first Canadian beyond low Earth orbit—remarkably, his first spaceflight ever) will launch no earlier than February 6th, 2026.
The ten-day mission follows a free-return trajectory: if everything fails, the Moon’s gravity automatically slings them back to Earth. Days 1-2: high Earth orbit checkout. Days 3-4: trans-lunar injection. Days 5-7: lunar flyby, swinging around the far side where there’s no communication with Earth—first humans to see it in person since 1972. Days 8-10: coast back and splashdown in the Pacific. They’re testing everything required for Artemis III: life support in deep space radiation, navigation systems, communications during far-side blackout, crew habitability, heat shield performance, and docking systems.
There is no lunar lander on this mission. That’s Artemis III’s job—targeting mid-2027, though 2028 or 2029 seems more realistic. The Human Landing System is SpaceX’s Starship HLS, a fifty-metre-tall vehicle requiring in-orbit refuelling via multiple tanker flights. SpaceX is developing it whilst simultaneously developing Starship for Mars missions, satellite deployment, and whatever gets tweeted on any given Tuesday. Their objectives don’t always align with NASA’s schedule. Meanwhile, China targets a 2030 crewed landing using Mengzhou crew vehicle, Lanyue lander, and Long March 10 rocket—building on their successful Chang’e missions including the first far-side sample return in 2024.
The Vision vs. Reality: In the multiverse of space exploration, every orbit exists in a superposition of “expensive practice run” and “essential stepping stone” until you actually attempt the landing. Sometimes the greatest achievement is successfully completing the boring prerequisite. Artemis II proves we can safely get there and back before committing to landing. It’s the test drive nobody wants to do but everyone knows is necessary—like test-driving your company car around an empty car park before trusting it for a cross-country client meeting. Except the car park is 240,000 miles away, and if anything fails, four astronauts die whilst the world watches. So perhaps slightly higher stakes than typical product testing.
The New Space Race (Or: Countries That Get There First Write the Rules)
Both the United States and China are targeting the lunar south pole, where permanently shadowed craters contain water ice—a resource for future missions. This isn’t Cold War ideology—it’s geopolitical positioning. A former NASA administrator stated bluntly: “Countries that get there first write the rules.” The stakes include scientific discovery, long-term infrastructure, technology development for Mars missions, international prestige, and establishing norms for space resource utilisation.
The corporate analogy is precise: two companies racing to dominate an emerging market. One has the legacy brand and historical credibility but aging infrastructure and bureaucratic inertia. The other has newer systems and centralised decision-making. Both are spending billions. The winner gets to set industry standards. The loser explains to shareholders why they’re second. Artemis II is the prerequisite—proving systems work before attempting the landing that will determine who writes those rules.
Join us for this exploration of lunar trajectories and mission parameter clarification, where the Square-Haired Boss learns that “to” and “on” are very different prepositions when discussing the Moon, four astronauts prepare to make history by successfully not landing, and the real science reveals why fifty years of institutional memory loss means we’re essentially relearning how to do something we already accomplished six times in the 1970s. Because in the multiverse of strategic space planning, we’re all just trying to understand the critical distinction between going TO the Moon and going ON the Moon—and apparently, billions of dollars in government contracts depend on getting that preposition exactly right.