P is pressure, V is volume, N is the number of gas particles, k is a constant, and T is (absolute) temperature.
So, T = PV/Nk.
N and k don’t change, but when the water rushes in, the pressure of the gas spikes as the volume shrinks. I don’t know the exact rates, but pressure goes up faster than volume goes down, and the result is that the temperature increases. This is the principle that refrigerators work on, and it’s why a bicycle pump gets warm when you use it. Applying force to compress a gas results in a temperature increase.
That doesn’t solve the problem: How do you rescue the ISS, if something goes wrong there? If the point is just to have two independent habitats so one can rescue the other, it’d be much easier to put both of them on the Moon. Preferably right next to each other, with an airlocked tunnel between them, for ease of access. At which point you don’t really even have two habitats any more, just one bigger one.
Because it’s far more unlikely that things will go wrong with two systems at once and the same time. Likewise, I would put a permanent floating platform over the deep sea habitat, with pressure chambers already in place, to avoid delays.
Sure, but why put one of those systems in orbit? It’s not like the floating platform over the deep-sea habitat; that’s an environment that doesn’t need extensive life support systems beyond maybe wool sweaters. But an orbital platform has basically all the same problems as one on the Moon, and then some.
Some brainy prehistoric rocket scientest (AKA: Cecil’s Great[SUP]256[/SUP] Grandfather) invented the Fire Piston while everyone else was still banging rocks together to make sparks. You can buy commercial versions at camping and survival supply stores.
I think you could satisfy the ocean-floor energy needs with geothermal power. Although placing the colony near a vent probably comes with other problems, like a more corrosive environment or the threat of an eruption.
And I don’t think you were suggesting that there are permanent light and dark sides of the moon, although some people might read it that way.
Cool. And I now remember I used to know the basic info that iamthewalrus graciously supplied. It turns out that fire hoses, BTW, have a compression ratio of 25:1. But why is this ratio higher than that of a race car, e.g.?
I’m not sure I understand your question. Are you asking why the compression ratio in a gasoline engine is less than in a fire hose? if so, it’s becuse the gasoline would ignite from the compression rather than the spark - causing knocking. Diesel engines use compression to ignite the fuel injected into the cylinder and some almost get up to 25:1,
While we’re on the subject of pressure have a look at the Byford Dolphin Diving Bell accident for an example of what can happen when things go wrong with a pressure differential of 9 atmospheres:
Granted that was a decompression event; but I won’t be volunteering to be in an undersea habitat subjected to far higher pressure differentials.
Is pressure at the bottom of the ocean only vertical or also horizontal? That is, if your structure is a square (not that it would be), does pressure only come from the top or the sides too?
How would one handle moving things in and out of an ocean floor base? Could you simply flood a compartment with water from the base then open the compartment to the outside, let the shipment in, close the exterior door, drain the compartment and open the interior door?
I remember reading up on water jet cutting. At high enough pressure, water will cut through steel if it’s in a jet. Could this happen if there were a puncture?
I’m not sure what you mean by this, but it brings to mind one question I had: for the ocean floor base, could you avoid some of the pressure problems by burying the living compartments? That is, except for the hatch perhaps, all other parts of the base would be “underground” as Bosda says.
Also for a lunar base, I’ve read somewhere that scientists speculate there may be some sort of empty lava tubes under the surface of the moon that would be almost ready made for habitation, once you seal off the ends and pump the atmosphere in.
Also from the sides. The water on the sides of the station is under tremendous pressure from above, and would move sideways into the station to allow the water above it to move downwards if your side armor fails.
Probably. It’s the same basic airlock principle that we use in both spaceships and submarines today.
More or less. The pressure of the water rushing in would tend to widen punctures quickly.
Pressure is isotropic: It pushes in all directions equally.
And supplies would have to come in and out through an airlock of some sort, but it’d be tricky at best to make moving parts that can stand up to those sorts of pressure differences.
I’m skeptical that there is a pump anywhere in the world right now strong enough to push the water out of an airlock and back into the surrounding ocean at a depth of 12,000 ft.
I don’t know if it can be done in a single stage, but it can be done with multiple stages. It certainly will not do that very quickly unless the pumps themselves greatly exceed the size of the airlock. There isn’t much need for a true airlock though, nobody is going in or out of a habitat at a depth of 12,000 ft. without a pressure vessel.
Holy crap. Plus the autopsy said that most of the guy’s lipids were essentially squshed out from his bloodstream and muscles. I should tell my endocrinologist; it would save me money instead of buying Tricor.
And I thought the decompression of the guy Sean Connery shot in Outland looked bad.
Amazing to think that there are environments we can temporarily visit right here on earth that are so much more hostile to human life than frikkin’ outer space. I mean, a person could survive exposure to the lunar environment for maybe 90 seconds or so, right? But it sounds like even a second at 12,000 feet would have them gathering your remains in a bucket.
Yes, this is why any habitat at great depth will be essentially underground. If not literally, you have to be covered with a massive amount of material to keep the weight of the ocean from flattening you like a cartoon steamroller.