Hot Spots in the Land of Sticks

Eskimos call it "the Land of the Little Sticks" because Arctic winds and bitter cold keep its stunted pines from growing beyond the thickness of a finger. But as Operation Morning Light continued in the Canadian wilderness near Great Slave Lake, the searchers discovered remnants of the nuclear-powered Cosmos 954: man-made sticks of radioactive metal stuck in the frozen tundra and ice-covered lakes. At least five chunks of the fallen Soviet spy satellite were located. One, a mere 10 in. long and 1/2in. thick, was emitting enough radiation to kill anyone foolish enough to hold it for two hours.

The findings confirmed the estimate of U.S. and Canadian scientists that parts of the satellite had survived the searing 17,000-m.p.h. entry into the atmosphere and probably fell in a shotgun-like pattern over at least 200 miles. One of the biggest pieces found was a gray metal tube about the size of an office-building fire extinguisher that was discovered embedded in the ice of the remote Thelon River by two young Americans who happened to be on a research dogsled run through the Thelon Game Sanctuary. Scientists said that it emitted "moderate" radiation, and while they pondered whether and how to break the ray-absorbing river ice to find out whether more lethal parts lay below, armed Canadian paratroopers set up a camp in the --40DEG F. cold.

The security was aimed mainly at preventing wandering Eskimos from being exposed to radiation, but it was also meant to ensure that the pieces would be protected until they could be thoroughly analyzed by Western military experts.

The main U.S. interest is in whether the Russians have yet achieved the ability, after ten years of experimentation, to use satellite-borne radar to track submerged submarines. Intelligence officials have dismissed speculation by some scientists that Cosmos 954's big, cylindrical nuclear power pack, a yard long and a yard thick, with its 110 lbs. of highly enriched uranium 235, was so powerful that it might actually have been part of a nuclear weapon or a hunter-killer satellite.

Instead, U.S. experts believe, the Russians needed a relatively large reactor to power a high-frequency radar carried aboard the satellite. The Soviets are thought to be trying to develop a radar sharp enough to detect changes in the pattern of plankton life near the oceans' surfaces. Such alterations are caused by the wake of deep-running subs, and thus could betray the presence of the previously untrackable U.S. nuclear deterrent.

Although the military interest was paramount, the concern in both Washington and Ottawa over the hazards from runaway space vehicles was also genuine. At his press conference last week, President Carter said he would take up with Moscow his idea that nations using earth-orbiting nuclear-powered satellites should either agree to install "much more advanced safety precautions" or simply stop launching them.

Yet the differences between the American and Soviet approaches to providing electrical power in space make an agreement unlikely. The U.S. has not launched a nuclear-powered vehicle since 1965. Instead, it relies on solar cells for electricity for all purposes except shots to the moon or toward other planets, where the sun's rays are too weak to be converted into sufficient power. In the 18 times in which the U.S. has sent nuclear power packs into space, it has used a much less dangerous method than the Russians.

The Americans use plutonium 238, an isotope whose main radiation consists of alpha particles that cannot go through paper or clothing and would have to be swallowed or inhaled to be harmful to humans.

The U.S., moreover, has placed its power packs in a steel container shielded with ceramic material that absorbs heat and burns off upon re-entry into the atmo sphere. The container itself is designed to survive impact.

The Russians, by contrast, seem less advanced in the use of solar energy and employ nuclear power supplies more frequently in earth orbit. Furthermore, to generate high power (100 kilowatts or more), they use a fission process, which produces radioactive strontium 90, cesium and iodine -- all far more threatening to human life than the alpha particles generated by the U.S.'s plutonium 238 fuel.

Rather than shield their power packs to ensure survival on impact, the Russians gamble that their radioactive materials will disintegrate on any accidental reentry and disperse in high-altitude winds.

In fact, vaporized uranium 235 and other particles from the falling Cosmos 954 formed a radioactive cloud in the upper atmosphere that may be up to 250 miles long and is now drifting eastward.

Both the U.S. and the Soviets normally shoot their satellites' nuclear power packs into high orbit (600 to 900 miles) after their use has ended. At present, there are 16 Soviet and eight American nucle ar power supplies in these "parking" or bits. These highfliers may circle the earth safely for up to 10,000 years, and while their radiation will not have decayed completely when they start to come down, its potency will be sufficiently diminished so that the danger is likely to disappear.

Space scientists are confident, moreover, that before future generations face the fall of these satellites, they will have achieved a means of either sending other vehicles up to retrieve the circling craft or of hurl ing them into even higher orbits.

Meantime, NASA is concerned about another reminder of the varied and un predictable hazards of throwing earthly spheres into space. There has been some slippage in the earth orbit of the space agency's big Skylab space station, which was launched in 1973 and should not have begun declining in its orbit until 1983. It packs no nuclear punch, but no one would want to be near it if it falls: it is 118 ft.

long and weighs in at 85 tons.

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