On August 26, 2025, SpaceX finally pushed its Starship system through a full, ambitious test flight that many in the space-community had long awaited. After a series of earlier mishaps and scrapped attempts, the tenth integrated flight test marked a turning point: the vehicle performed a full-duration ascent burn, reached its planned velocity, deployed test payloads, and survived a fiery reentry before splashing down as intended.
The flight began from Starbase, Texas, with the Super Heavy booster igniting all 33 Raptor engines for launch. After climbing to altitude, Starship’s upper stage (Ship 37) separated and ignited its six engines, continuing on a suborbital trajectory.
During its coast phase, it deployed eight Starlink simulator payloads—marking the first time Starship successfully released a mock satellite mass during a test flight.
The upper stage also accomplished a Raptor engine relight in space, a key demonstration for future deorbit or orbit-raising maneuvers.
As the vehicle reentered Earth’s atmosphere, Starship faced some stress and damage—particularly in the aft skirt and in sections of its heat-shield and flaps.
Despite these challenges, the spacecraft managed a controlled “flip” maneuver, guiding itself nose-first toward the splashdown zone in the Indian Ocean.
Meanwhile, the booster executed a series of burns to reverse course, though it intentionally disabled one of its center engines during the landing burn as part of testing engine-out capability. It hovered briefly over the water before cutting engines and splashing in the Gulf of Mexico, where it broke up on impact.
While not perfect, Flight 10 delivered on many of its critical test objectives. The mission pushed Starship closer to full reusability, validated maneuvers needed for future missions, and restored confidence in the system after earlier failures.
The success of payload deployment and engine relighting in space stand out as especially important steps for upcoming missions to orbit and beyond. Challenges remain—especially refining heat-shield durability, improving structural margins during reentry, and achieving consistent booster recoveries. But the trajectory is now clearer: if the lessons from Flight 10 are applied well, Starship may well be on its way to realizing SpaceX’s goals for lunar, Martian, and deep-space missions.
Axiom Mission 4 (Ax-4) is currently unfolding as a landmark mission in the ongoing expansion of commercial spaceflight. Organized by Axiom Space, in partnership with NASA and SpaceX, Ax-4 is the fourth private astronaut mission to the International Space Station (ISS) and is part of NASA’s Commercial Low Earth Orbit Development program. As the line between government and private spaceflight continues to blur, Ax-4 is demonstrating what multinational, commercially driven space exploration looks like in practice.
Ax-4 launched aboard a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket from Launch Complex 39A at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Florida, carrying the Crew Dragon Freedom spacecraft. After a successful launch and orbital insertion, the spacecraft docked with the ISS, beginning an approximately two-week mission in low Earth orbit.
The Ax-4 crew is led by Peggy Whitson, a former NASA astronaut and Axiom’s Director of Human Spaceflight. Whitson, who holds the U.S. record for cumulative days in space, brings unmatched experience and leadership to the mission. She is joined by three private astronauts representing the emerging generation of global space explorers:
Shubhanshu Shukla (India), a payload specialist and biomedical researcher.
Sławosz Uznański-Wiśniewski (Poland), a European Space Agency (ESA) reserve astronaut and nuclear physicist.
Tibor Kapu (Hungary), a flight and aerospace engineer.
Together, the crew represents a powerful combination of scientific, medical, and operational expertise, with participation from multiple national space programs and agencies.
Ax-4 plays a vital role in the commercialization of low Earth orbit. It serves as a live test case for integrating international and non-agency astronauts into the ISS framework—something that NASA sees as essential to its future LEO strategy. The mission supports NASA’s plan to transition routine orbital operations to commercial providers by the end of the decade, freeing government resources for Artemis missions and Mars exploration.
Furthermore, Ax-4 directly contributes to Axiom Space’s long-term vision of building Axiom Station, a free-flying commercial space station currently under development. Lessons from Ax-4—ranging from crew logistics to science payload management—inform Axiom’s engineering and operational planning for launching its first module, which will initially attach to the ISS before eventually separating into an independent platform.
This mission also sets a precedent for international inclusion in crewed spaceflight. Shubhanshu Shukla’s participation highlights India’s growing role in the commercial space sector, while Sławosz Uznański-Wiśniewski represents a step forward for ESA’s reserve astronaut program. Tibor Kapu’s presence underscores Hungary’s commitment to reentering human spaceflight after decades of absence.
The international nature of Ax-4 reinforces Axiom Space’s role as a facilitator of access to orbit for nations that lack launch capabilities or domestic astronaut corps. By enabling sovereign astronauts to fly as mission specialists, Axiom broadens the scope of participation in space exploration and science.
As Ax-4 continues, the mission is collecting critical data—not just from its scientific payloads, but from the structure and coordination of commercial spaceflight itself. The success of this mission will help define best practices for future mixed-nationality crews, commercial research operations, and astronaut training.
Looking forward, Axiom Mission 5 (Ax-5) is already in planning for 2025, expected to feature even more ambitious goals in terms of duration, research, and international collaboration. As commercial spaceflight moves from novelty to infrastructure, missions like Ax-4 will be remembered as formative efforts that redefined how, and by whom, space is explored.
Recent planetary geology research has brought significant attention to peculiar surface features on Mars known as boxwork formations. These geological structures, first identified in terrestrial caves like those of Wind Cave National Park in South Dakota, are intricate networks of intersecting ridges that form angular, often polygonal patterns on rock surfaces. On Mars, these formations provide intriguing evidence of the planet’s aqueous and diagenetic history, and they continue to fuel ongoing debates about Mars’ past habitability and climate.
Boxwork formations on Mars refer to polygonal or lattice-like patterns of raised ridges that commonly appear to crisscross the surface of sedimentary rocks. They are most often observed in eroded areas where the surrounding, less-resistant matrix has been stripped away, leaving behind the more resilient mineralized veins. These features resemble fossilized skeletons of a once-buried fracture network, now exposed by aeolian (wind-driven) erosion. The ridges are typically centimeters to meters in height and can span several meters in length, forming grid- or honeycomb-like patterns.
Boxwork-like features were first clearly documented on Mars by high-resolution imaging instruments aboard NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter (MRO), particularly by the High Resolution Imaging Science Experiment (HiRISE) and the Context Camera (CTX). Notable observations include:
Gale Crater, explored by the Curiosity rover, where polygonal fracture patterns in sedimentary rocks were observed and interpreted as evidence of past fluid movement through rock.
Nilosyrtis region and Northeast Syrtis, both imaged by HiRISE, show spectacular examples of boxwork-like ridges.
Murray Buttes, inside Gale Crater, features boxwork textures that suggest extensive fracture-filling and mineral precipitation processes.
More recently, the Perseverance rover, exploring Jezero Crater since 2021, has detected similar linear ridges within ancient deltaic deposits, although their exact classification as boxwork is still under study.
These features are often associated with hydrated minerals, especially sulfates and clays, suggesting an interaction between water and rock over extended periods.
The most widely accepted model for the formation of boxwork on Mars involves mineral-filled fractures, a process consistent with what is observed in analogous terrestrial environments. The prevailing theory includes several key stages:
Fracturing of Host Rock: Martian bedrock, likely composed of volcanic or sedimentary materials, develops a network of fractures due to tectonic stress, desiccation (drying), or thermal contraction.
Fluid Infiltration and Mineral Precipitation: Subsurface fluids, likely brines or groundwater, percolate through the fractures, depositing minerals such as hematite, silica, sulfates, or carbonates along the walls of the fractures.
Cementation: Over time, these mineral deposits harden and cement the fracture walls.
Erosion of Host Matrix: Wind erosion or chemical weathering preferentially removes the surrounding, softer rock, leaving behind the more resistant mineral veins as raised ridges—creating the boxwork pattern.
In some cases, researchers hypothesize that the mineralization may have occurred during early diagenesis (sediment-to-rock transformation), potentially linked to hydrothermal systems or long-standing subsurface aquifers. The distribution and composition of these ridges support the idea that groundwater was once active and persistent in Martian history.
Boxwork structures are crucial for reconstructing Mars’ environmental history. They serve as indirect evidence for past water activity and reveal subsurface fluid pathways, potentially pointing to habitats that could have supported microbial life. Their mineralogical composition, especially when hydrated phases are present, offers insights into the chemical conditions that prevailed during their formation.
Moreover, the preservation of such delicate structures indicates limited subsequent geological disturbance, suggesting that some regions on Mars have remained relatively unchanged for billions of years. As such, they are prime targets for future in-situ analysis and sample return missions, especially those seeking biosignatures or geochemical proxies of past life.
When Firefly Aerospace and Northrop Grumman joined forces, they sparked the creation of Eclipse—a medium-lift rocket that stands at the cutting edge of launch innovation. Announced in 2022 under the working name “Beta” or “MLV,” Eclipse was envisioned not just as a successor to Northrop’s Antares and Firefly’s Alpha rockets, but as a leap forward in reusability, performance, and production efficiency.
From its inception, Eclipse has been designed to bring a powerful payload capacity to low Earth orbit—an impressive 16,300 kilograms—as well as the ability to loft 3,200 kilograms to geosynchronous transfer orbits and 2,300 kilograms on lunar trajectories. The rocket’s 59-meter-tall frame, built from lightweight carbon-fiber composites, carries a sprawling 5.4-meter-diameter fairing—giving it both muscle and versatility.
The magic inside Eclipse lies in its propulsion system. The first stage supports seven Miranda engines—descendants of Firefly’s Alpha-series Reaver and Lightning family—each running on RP‑1 and liquid oxygen through a refined tap-off combustion cycle. Together, they push out over 7,160 kN of thrust with a vacuum specific impulse of 305 seconds.
Beyond raw power, Eclipse is engineered for reusability. Its first stage is built to return to the launch site after deployment—a configuration that aligns Eclipse with the reusable strategies pioneered by rockets like SpaceX’s Falcon 9 and Blue Origin’s New Glenn . Testing is already well underway, with more than sixty hot-fire tests of Miranda engines and a full 206-second mission duty cycle burn completed, matching projected flight conditions.
The blend of technologies aboard Eclipse is a deliberate fusion of legacy and innovation. The avionics system draws directly from Northrop’s flight-proven Antares platform, while the carbon-composite airframe and tap-off engine cycle are honed from Firefly’s work on Alpha. This synergy has already attracted a major vote of confidence in the form of a $50 million investment from Northrop Grumman, aimed at accelerating hardware production and qualification campaigns.
Eclipse’s versatility extends beyond the engineering lab to the launchpad. Wallops Island, Virginia’s Mid-Atlantic Regional Spaceport (LP‑0A) has been designated as its primary launch site, with alternate configurations ready at Vandenberg’s SLC‑2W and Cape Canaveral’s SLC‑20. What makes Eclipse particularly compelling is the market niche it fills. With a payload capacity of some 16 metric tons to LEO, it strikes a balance between heft and cost that suits emerging satellite constellations, space station supply missions, national security payloads, and science platforms alike.
For U.S. national security, the timing is right: Eclipse is lined up for consideration under the Space Force’s NSSL Phase 3 Lane 1, which prioritizes newer medium-class rockets. Behind the scenes, the factories in central Texas are humming. Firefly has doubled its production space in Briggs, Texas, to support both Antares 330 and Eclipse vehicle assembly. Mirrored in Wallops and Vandenberg, these facilities are designed for speed and scalability, with testing, machining, and composite fabrications all co-located.
From the silent distance of Earth, the Moon appears as a smooth, silvery sphere. But for those who’ve studied its surface up close, either through telescopes or from the historic Apollo missions, one thing becomes clear: the Moon is blanketed in a fine, powdery material known as lunar regolith. This layer of fragmented debris has formed over billions of years and tells the story of a world shaped by ceaseless impacts, solar radiation, and a complete lack of atmosphere. Though it may look like simple dust, lunar regolith holds profound significance for planetary scientists—and increasingly, for engineers preparing for a return to the Moon.
The composition of this mysterious gray covering is more complex than its appearance might suggest. It’s formed from the relentless barrage of micrometeorites pulverizing the surface, the violent birth of impact craters, and the subtle chemical alterations caused by solar wind. The result is a chaotic mix of crushed rock fragments, jagged mineral grains, and tiny glass beads born from high-temperature impacts. Common minerals like plagioclase feldspar, pyroxene, and olivine are scattered throughout, along with ilmenite, which contains valuable titanium and oxygen. One particularly intriguing component is the presence of nanophase iron—ultra-small iron particles that form on the surface of grains through a process called space weathering. These particles affect how the regolith reflects sunlight, giving the Moon its distinctively dull, gray tone when seen from afar.
Scientists first gained direct access to lunar regolith during the Apollo missions between 1969 and 1972. Astronauts collected samples from multiple landing sites, eventually bringing back a treasure trove of 382 kilograms of Moon rocks and soil. These samples became the foundation of modern lunar science. Laboratories around the world analyzed them, revealing not only their mineral makeup but also their mechanical properties, such as how they compact, crumble, or cling. In the decades since, robotic missions—like the Soviet Luna series and, more recently, China’s Chang’e landers—have supplemented this knowledge, some even returning new samples from previously unexplored regions.
While bringing the regolith back to Earth has been invaluable, researchers have also developed techniques for studying it remotely. Orbiters equipped with spectrometers and radar instruments, such as NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter, have helped map the Moon’s surface in great detail. These tools measure reflected light or radio waves to determine mineral composition and estimate the depth and distribution of regolith across the Moon. Additionally, scientists have created regolith simulants on Earth using volcanic ash and crushed basalt to replicate the Moon’s soil. These substitutes allow researchers to test new technologies for excavation, construction, and life support systems without needing to access the real thing.
As we look ahead to renewed lunar exploration, the presence of regolith is both a scientific resource and a serious engineering concern. During the Apollo era, astronauts quickly discovered just how tenacious and troublesome lunar dust could be. It clung to everything—spacesuits, tools, visors—and wore down seals and joints with its abrasiveness. Inhaled accidentally, it caused respiratory irritation. Dust worked its way into every crevice of the lunar module, leading to worries about long-term equipment degradation.
Today, mission planners must solve these problems with more permanent outposts in mind. Any lander or rover operating on the Moon must be built to withstand the grinding effect of fine regolith particles. Rovers need sealed joints, dust-repelling surfaces, and self-cleaning mechanisms. Launch and landing also present a challenge. The powerful engine exhaust of a landing spacecraft can blast regolith at high speeds in all directions, potentially damaging nearby infrastructure or fouling instruments. Ideas such as pre-built landing pads or robotic regolith-clearing systems are now under consideration to protect future lunar bases.
Despite these concerns, regolith might also be part of the solution. Engineers and scientists are exploring ways to turn this ubiquitous material into a resource. Some are working on extracting oxygen from minerals like ilmenite, which could support life-support systems or fuel production. Others are developing 3D-printing techniques that use regolith as the raw material to build structures—walls, roads, or even radiation shields. One of the most promising ideas is to bury habitats beneath regolith to protect astronauts from harmful space radiation, using the Moon’s own soil as a natural barrier.
In many ways, the regolith is a record keeper, preserving the ancient history of the Moon in its layered dust. Every speck of this gray soil has been shaped by cosmic forces: impacts, solar particles, and the slow evolution of a dead world. But as NASA, international partners, and private companies move closer to establishing a human presence on the Moon, this dusty blanket becomes more than a scientific curiosity. It is both a challenge to overcome and a resource to harness—a reminder that even on a lifeless surface, the smallest grains can hold the biggest implications for the future of space exploration.
Launched on April 15, 1999, from Vandenberg Air Force Base in California aboard a Delta II rocket, Landsat 7 marked a new chapter in Earth observation. This satellite, a collaborative endeavor between NASA, the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS), and NOAA, was the seventh in the long-running Landsat program that began in 1972. With a sun-synchronous, near-polar orbit at an altitude of approximately 705 kilometers, Landsat 7 was designed to pass over the same part of the Earth every 16 days, capturing high-resolution imagery under consistent lighting conditions at around 10:00 a.m. local solar time.
The spacecraft itself was engineered by Lockheed Martin and featured a three-axis stabilized platform, which allowed precise orientation in space. It drew power from solar arrays supported by nickel-cadmium batteries and used a hydrazine monopropellant system for orbital maintenance. One of its significant upgrades over previous Landsat missions was the inclusion of a solid-state data recorder capable of storing roughly 378 gigabits of data. This feature allowed the satellite to store imagery until it could downlink it to a ground station, enabling more flexible operations and broader global coverage.
At the heart of Landsat 7’s success was its sole scientific instrument: the Enhanced Thematic Mapper Plus (ETM+). This powerful sensor was a “whisk-broom” scanner, capturing data across eight spectral bands. Six of these bands covered the visible, near-infrared, and shortwave infrared portions of the electromagnetic spectrum with a resolution of 30 meters. A thermal infrared band operated at 60 meters resolution, while a high-resolution panchromatic band offered detail at 15 meters. Each scene covered an area of roughly 183 by 170 kilometers.
One of ETM+’s distinguishing features was its rigorous calibration. Equipped with a full-aperture solar calibrator and internal lamps, ETM+ maintained its radiometric accuracy to within five percent. This exceptional calibration made it the gold standard for satellite remote sensing, enabling cross-calibration with other Earth-observing missions such as NASA’s Terra and EO-1 satellites.
However, Landsat 7’s mission was not without challenges. On May 31, 2003, the satellite’s scan line corrector (SLC)—a mechanism that compensated for the motion of the satellite to ensure complete image coverage—failed. This hardware malfunction introduced zigzag-shaped data gaps that affected roughly 22 to 30 percent of each image. Despite the setback, Landsat 7 continued to operate, and the data it captured remained valuable. Scientists developed methods to fill in the gaps using data from adjacent passes, allowing continued scientific use and analysis.
Originally designed for a five-year mission, Landsat 7 exceeded expectations by remaining active for over two decades. In 2017, the final station-keeping maneuvers were performed to maintain the satellite’s orbital parameters. As fuel levels dropped, the satellite’s orbit began to drift slightly, but its imaging capabilities remained intact. In April 2022, the satellite was placed in a lower orbit to support calibration of other Earth-observing systems, and it continued to acquire data intermittently until January 2024. On June 4, 2025, the mission officially came to an end.
Throughout its operational life, Landsat 7 played a vital role in Earth sciences. It provided consistent, high-resolution imagery that supported a wide range of applications, including environmental monitoring, land use planning, disaster response, water resource management, agriculture, and climate change research. The data collected were used in studies that tracked deforestation in the Amazon, urban sprawl in North America, and agricultural patterns in sub-Saharan Africa, among countless other projects.
One of Landsat 7’s most transformative impacts came in 2008, when USGS made its entire Landsat archive—including Landsat 7 data—available to the public at no cost. This decision revolutionized the field of remote sensing, opening the doors to researchers, educators, governments, and businesses worldwide. The number of Landsat scene downloads skyrocketed, leading to an explosion in published scientific studies and practical applications.
Beyond its imagery, Landsat 7 served as a radiometric benchmark. Its ETM+ sensor was so well-calibrated that it became a reference instrument, helping to ensure consistency and accuracy across other satellite missions. This legacy continued with Landsat 8, launched in 2013, and Landsat 9, which entered service in 2021. Even in its final years, Landsat 7 contributed to efforts to standardize Earth observation through proposed servicing missions and calibration support.
Landsat 7’s mission may have ended, but its legacy endures. For over 20 years, it provided humanity with a clearer picture of our changing planet, setting new standards in satellite imaging and democratizing access to Earth observation data. As scientists and decision-makers confront the challenges of climate change, food security, and sustainable development, the insights first captured by Landsat 7 continue to inform policy and shape our understanding of the world.
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