We did it! We have returned to the moon. After 54 years, setting foot on our moon had become a distant memory. All that was left to remind us we ever visited was a collection of grainy film reels, some iconic photographs and a few hundred kilograms of lunar rock. But on the 1st of April 2026 that changed. We went back. Not boots on the ground yet, but in the vicinity at least. Anatomus 2 wasn't just a repeat of Apollo, it was a total reimagining of how we explore. From high definition laser streams to real-time observations of meteors slamming into the lunar crust, this 10-day voyage has revealed our closest celestial neighbor in ways we've never seen before. But every step into the unknown comes with risk. Between critical engine leaks and our functioning life support, not all was as smooth as it seemed. I'm Alex McColgan and you're watching Astrum. Join me today as we leave Earth and head back to the moon. We'll look at the triumphs, the discoveries and the narrow escapes of the Artemis 2 mission. Having the way for our return to the moon. On the 1st of April 2026 at 6.35pm EDT, the countdown reached zero and humanity was on its way back to the moon for the first time in more than 50 years. The SLS rocket produced a staggering 39.1 million newtons of thrust as it set off from the launch complex 39B at the Kennedy Space Center, pushing the integrity capsule through the sound barrier within seconds. Inside, Commander Reed Wiseman, pilot Victor Glover and mission specialist Christina Koch and Jeremy Hansen were pressed into their seats by forces reaching nearly 4Gs. Artemis 2 was finally on its way. In less than 9 minutes the crew were already in orbit around Earth, but they weren't heading straight for the moon. Instead they spent the first 24 hours in this high elliptical Earth orbit on a trip designated as a shake down cruise. This was a critical testing phase, making sure every system was working as it should before pushing on into deeper space. After all, this was the first time four humans were living and breathing inside the Orion architecture. They needed to make sure it was performing properly before leaving the relative safety of Earth orbit. The crew performed checks on the environmental control and life support system, monitoring the scrubbers designed to pull carbon dioxide and water vapor out of the cabin air. It sounds like a routine check, but in microgravity, carbon dioxide is a silent killer. Without the convection we have on Earth, carbon dioxide doesn't disperse. It pulls in stagnant pockets right in front of your face. If the ventilation fails, you could effectively suffocate while wide awake. A sobering thought when you're thousands of kilometers away from any potential rescue. A little over three hours into the mission, the crew also conducted proximity operations where they used the jettisoned interim cryogenic propulsion stage as a reference target, maneuvering Orion within close range to simulate the docking procedures required for the Artemis III and IV missions. Over the course of 70 minutes, they repeatedly performed controlled approach and retreat maneuvers, collecting precise navigation data. Out here in space, the crew had no GPS to rely on, only the physics of the engine and the steadiness of pilot Victor Glover's hand. However, even this early phase wasn't without its hiccups. Not long after launch, the crew realized that a valve in their water dispenser had closed itself due to the immense G-forces. A faulty valve meant the crew couldn't count on getting water out of the main tanks in the usual way, so they manually extracted 7 litres of it into backup bags using syringes and straws, just to make sure they would have enough to drink for the rest of the mission. Even more concerning was a leak discovered in the Helium manifold, a part of the rocket used to pressurize the propulsion system. The leak rate was noted to be an order of magnitude higher than anything seen during ground testing, but thankfully the mission controllers determined it was still within acceptable safety limits. For all these problems, floating in space must have been a dream come true for the astronauts. I'm certainly jealous of them. I'd love to experience the feeling of weightlessness. If that resonates with you too, it's actually possible to have a 0G experience right in your own office thanks to the sponsor of today's video, Novium. 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For the next 72 hours, my code Astrum gets you a 15% discount on all Novium hover pens, and a 10% discount after that. It'll arrive in a high-end gift box and ships for free to most countries around the world. Go check it out. The next stage of the mission began on the 2nd of April, when the Orion spacecraft's service module engine ignited for the Trans-Luna Injection Burn, a six-minute firing that accelerated Orion to nearly 40,000 km per hour, enough to escape Earth's gravity. As they left the planet behind, Orion transitioned to a new era of deep space communications. Alongside the traditional S-Bahn radio of the deep space network, which has been the backbone of spaceflight since Apollo, Artemis II debuted a game changer, the O2O, or Orion Artemis II, Optical Communications Terminal. The system uses near-infrared laser light at a wavelength of 1,550 nanometers, unlike radio waves which spread out significantly over long distances. These lasers remain tightly focused, allowing for a 30-fold increase in data density. At its peak, O2O downloaded data at 260 megabytes per second, enough to stream high-definition 4K video from around the moon, all the way back to ground stations in New Mexico and California. By day four, the O2O terminal had transmitted more than 100 gigabytes of data. Among these piles was the already infamous Hello World photo, captured by Commander Weisman through Integrity's window. It shows Earth as a dark sphere, it only by a thin, razor-sharp rim of light as it eclipses the sun. To capture the faint details of the Earth's night side, Weisman had to push his Nikon D5 camera to a staggering ISO of 51,200 with a quarter-second shutter speed. The camera is so sensitive that it also saw something the human eye could only dream of, the ethereal green glow of the auroras shimmering at the poles, and the planet Venus as a bright silver glint in the corner of the frame. You can even see our atmosphere, with air glow from excited sodium atoms lighting up its very edge, and the zodiacal light from space dust reflecting sunlight, a phenomenon usually seen only in the darkest skies on Earth. This, to my mind, is one of the most beautiful images ever captured by a human hand, and it was the first of many as the mission progressed. But while the view from the window of integrity was spectacular, it was what the crew couldn't see that posed a great threat. As integrity left the protective magnetic umbrella of Earth, the crew faced the invisible hazard of deep space, radiation. Radiation beyond Earth's orbit is up to 100 times more powerful than what we experience on the ground, consisting of galactic cosmic rays and solar particle events. To track this, Orion was equipped with six hybrid electronic radiation assessors, and four specialized detectors called M42EXTs, which featured six times the resolution of previous models to distinguish between hazardous heavy ions and protons. But why did they want to track it with such precision? Well, radiation can have a huge impact on the human body, and we don't fully understand how, particularly in space. Artemis II gave NASA the opportunity to look at the biological impacts of going to the moon. Riding along in the cabin were tissue chips, part of the Avatar investigation, which stands for a virtual astronaut tissue analogue response. These chips, roughly the size of a USB drive, contained living human cells grown to mimic the structures of the heart, lungs, and bone marrow. By flying these biological proxies, which were derived from the astronauts own stem cells, scientists could observe cellular damage and immune function changes in real time. Later in the mission, the crew was supposed to practice a sheltering maneuver, moving equipment and water bags to create a thick barrier in the storage lockers. While this demo was eventually shortened to make room for other tests, in the event of a severe solar storm, the safe room would be their only protection against acute radiation sickness, which can cause symptoms ranging from nausea and skin burning to long term cancer risks. It's a haunting thought. Four humans huddled behind water bags in a dark locker, millions of kilometers from help. It begs the question, is the moon really worth such a terrifying gamble? Well, on day six, as the darkness gave way to a looming, created horizon, the crew got their answer. When the Artemis II astronauts peered out of the window on the 6th of April, Earth was no longer the largest world in view. Instead, our tiny moon dominated the vista. Integrity was entering the lunar sphere of influence. But this came with another set of risks. As they swung around the far side of the moon, all communication went silent. For 40 long minutes, the crew was completely cut off from Earth as the moon itself blocked our radio signals. The four astronauts were truly alone. Then, a crackle of static broke the silence. As integrity cleared the lunar limb, the O2O laser system locked back onto Earth, and the crew's voices returned to mission control. They had successfully emerged from the shadow of the moon, only to find themselves further from Earth than any human has ever been. 406,771 kilometers from home, shattering the 56-year-old record set by the crew of Apollo 13. This moment birthed the term moonjoy, a profound sense of human connection and awe as the crew relayed descriptions with a human voice, something no robotic cameras could ever replicate. Christina Koch described a lunar landscape becoming real to her, noting how the moon looked like a sponge of light turning from an electric gray to olive brown once the brightness of Earth entered her field of view. The crew utilized the extensive geology training to describe features like the Oriental basin. This nearly 1,000 kilometer-wide impact crater sits on the boundary between the near and far sides of the moon. Wiseman described it as an annual ring that looked like a pair of lips or a kiss on the surface. The crew also noted mysterious squiggles, winding surface features whose origins remain a topic of intense scientific debate. But Artemis was never just about seeing the moon. For the astronauts, at least, it was far more personal than that. Amidst the high-stakes science, the mission paused for a moment of profound personal reflection. While passing over the boundary of the near and far sides, mission specialist Jeremy Hansen requested the naming of two previously unnamed craters. The first was named Integrity, a fitting tribute to the vessel that carried them there. But it was the second name that carried the most weight, Carol, in honor of Carol Taylor Wiseman, the late wife of Commander Reed Wiseman. When Carol was diagnosed with cancer in 2015, Reed had considered walking away from NASA entirely to be by her side. But she wouldn't let him. Instead, she pushed him to stay in the Artemis program. While Carol never got to see Commander Wiseman reach the moon, her name is now a permanent part of it. Inside the cabin, the crew embraced in a group hug that was felt by millions watching on Earth. Carol crater is a small, bright spot roughly 5.6 kilometers across, located on the western limb of the moon. Because of its position, it is occasionally visible from Earth with a powerful telescope, allowing Wiseman's daughters, Katie and Ellie, to look up and see their mother's legacy on its surface. What a wonderful tribute. And there was another poignant moment in this phase of the mission. This is Earthset, a haunting image taken by Commander Wiseman that echoes the iconic Earthrise image taken by Apollo 8 astronaut Bill Anders some 58 years ago, as he too flew around the moon. It truly makes you appreciate how special Earth and our place in the universe is. And there are still more spectacular images on the way. As Orion moved into the moon's shadow, the crew experienced a total solar eclipse from a vantage point never before seen by human eyes. For nearly an hour, the moon, appearing 5 times larger than the sun, blocked out the solar disk. The astronauts used special eclipse glasses to study the sun's corona, the sun's outermost atmospheric layer, which appeared as a glowing halo around the dark lunar disk. In this image from the onboard cameras, you'll notice a faint, ghostly glow clinging to the left edge of the moon. This is Earthshine, sunlight reflecting off our own planet to light up the lunar limb. Even more impressively, with the sun's glare hidden behind the moon, the crew witnessed a rare planetary parade. Saturn, Mars, Mercury and Venus all appeared in images of the eclipse as bright point sources in the dark background. This darkness also allowed for one of the moon's most startling scientific discoveries. While observing the night side of the moon, Weisman and Hansen spotted quick flashes of light. These were impact flashes, millisecond long bursts of bluish white light caused by micrometeorites slamming into the lunar surface at tens of kilometers per second and vaporizing on impact. The crew logged at least six distinct impacts. In Houston's science evaluation room, geologists were jumping up and down with delight. Witnessing these events in real time is exceptionally rare and proves that the moon is under a much more constant bombardment than previous models suggested. The data is critical for the safety of future outposts and it suggests that the daily flux of meteors must be monitored more closely before establishing permanent bases. It turns out, micrometeorite impacts on the moon could be a much bigger hazard than we ever thought. But it was also a test of human patience. The cabin is roughly the size of a small camovan and for 10 days it was home to four people. That's not a lot of space, especially if you have toilet troubles. It might sound silly, but one of the most significant challenges the Artemis II crew suffered was the toilet. The spacecraft's wastewater venting system malfunctioned several times, causing the storage tanks to fill prematurely and rendering the toilet unusable for long periods of time. This forced the crew to resort to backup urine collection bags and messy, and I would imagine mildly disgusting, reality of deep space travel. Mission specialist Christina Koch, drawing on her engineering background, became a space plumber, performing in-flight plumbing repairs to keep the systems running. There were lighter moments too, of course. On Easter Sunday, the crew held a 0G egg hunt, searching for packets of dehydrated scrambled eggs hidden around the spacecraft. They were also joined by RISE, a plush mascot designed by 8-year-old Lucas Yee from Mountain View, California. RISE served as the mission's zero gravity indicator, a small hat-wearing plushie that became a viral sensation, symbolizing the mission's moon joy and carrying more than 5.6 million names of people from Earth on an SD card inside his pocket. It was a beautiful connection to home, but home was still more than a quarter of a million kilometers away, and as the mission turned back towards Earth, the focus of ground teams shifted to a growing concern in the service module's propulsion system. The helium leak detected early in the flight had remained an issue. Helium is used to pressurize the propellant tanks, pushing the fuel into the thrusters, and any loss of pressure could compromise the spacecraft's ability to maneuver. As I mentioned before, NASA's associate administrator Amit Shatria confirmed that the leak rate in flight was an order of magnitude higher than what was observed on the ground. While it didn't threaten the safety of Artemis II, the anomaly has forced a significant change in the program's roadmap. NASA has indicated that the valve system will likely require an extensive redesign before it is certified for the long-duration orbital maneuvers of Artemis IV in 2028. This is the very essence of why Artemis II exists. It is a detailed test objective. This is where we post the limits of the hardware in a controlled environment, if you can ever call space that, so that floors can be fixed before the stakes get even higher on the lunar surface. But space hazards weren't the only thing troubling the astronauts. One part of the mission people were particularly concerned about was getting home, and specifically re-entry into the atmosphere. Getting to the moon is one thing, but getting back is arguably more dangerous, and that's been the case since the times of Apollo 11. Take a look at my videos covering this on Astrum Extra if you want to understand exactly why. And even after nearly 60 years, the method hasn't really changed. For the Artemis II crew, the return to Earth was a four-day journey, with integrity reaching a peak velocity of nearly 40,000 km per hour. This is about 32 times the speed of sound. To protect the heat shield, Orion performed a skip re-entry. You might remember that from my last video about the mission. The spacecraft hit the upper atmosphere at a precise angle, briefly skipped back up into the void to lose kinetic energy and heat, and then made its final plunge. This maneuver kept the temperatures on the heat shield around 2760 degrees Celsius, within the safety margins for the modified Avcoat material. As the capsule slammed into the atmosphere, the friction was so intense that it tore the air molecules apart, turning the surrounding air into superheated plasma. This sheath of ionized plasma acted as a signal barrier, blocking all radio communication with the crew. For six agonizing minutes, they completely cut off from Houston once again, and the world held its breath as a single pinprick of light was tracked by infrared cameras on recovery aircrafts. Through the static, Reed Wiseman's voice finally punched through. The relief across mission control was instant. Moments later, three massive parachutes, each more than 30 meters in diameter, opened against the California sky. Slowing the capsule to a gentle 27 km per hour splashdown. The mission ended at 5.07 Pacific Daylight time on the 10th of April, with a bullseye splashdown in the Pacific Ocean, west of Baja, California. The recovery ship, USS John P. Murther, was positioned within a mile of the landing site. Navy divers approached in inflatable boats, checking for toxic propellant leaks before installing the front porch, a large inflatable raft that wrapped around the floating capsule. The four astronauts exited the side hatch onto the porch, where they were given initial medical assessments before being hoisted into the MH-60SC Hawk helicopters, and flown to the ship's medical bay. Commander Reed Wiseman was last to leave the capsule, but he didn't leave alone. He carried Ryze with him, stuffing the mascot into a dry bag on his pressure suit to ensure no man or plush would be left behind. Within 24 hours, the crew was back at the Johnson Space Center in Houston, reuniting with their families and marking the end of a 1.1 million kilometer journey. Since then, the science work hasn't stopped. The astronauts' experience of microgravity is being used to work on treatments for vertigo, and the Orion capsule was also successfully rescued from beneath the waves, ready for further examination back at base. And the next step, of course, is the Artemis III mission, which, whilst initially was set to be a lunar landing mission, has now been changed to a low-Earth orbit test of the docking procedures with potential landing craft. At the moment, we don't know whether this will be the SpaceX or Blue Origins lander, but we do know it won't happen until late 2027 at the earliest. And unfortunately, that's not the only setback. As we set our sights to Artemis IV and NASA astronauts touching down on the moon once again, we are already seeing issues with the astronauts' space suits. A report of NASA's Office of Inspector General and Independent Federal Watchdog has said that development is behind and risks not being ready in time. The new suits are needed because NASA's current versions used for spacewalks on the International Space Station were designed more than 50 years ago and haven't been changed at all in more than 20. They simply aren't made for the harsh environments of the moon. In 2022, NASA commissioned two companies, Axiom Space and Collins Aerospace, to come up with a new option, but in 2024, Collins dropped out as they couldn't do it in the time required. Whilst Axiom says that they will have demos ready in 2027, the clock is well and truly ticking for a potential 2028 Artemis IV launch. The voyage of integrity has come to an end, but the era of Artemis is only just beginning. We have proven that our rockets can reach the moon, that our lasers can stream the wonders of the cosmos in 4K, and that the human spirit remains as curious as it was in 1969. The anomalies we faced, the leaks and the toilet issues, are not signs of failure, but the very reason we fly these test missions. They are the lessons we learn now with Orion, so that the permanent basis of the future can be safe. As the crew reunites with families, they leave behind a moon that is no longer a distant ghost. It's a world where a crater named Carrol now shines as a permanent monument to human memory. Artemis III is still a way away, but I think it's fair to say we are on our way back to the moon, and this time we're going to stay. I can't wait for the moment we get to see human boots touch down on the surface once more. I'm happy to announce we have a weekly newsletter to keep up with all the discoveries in our cosmos, and our designer Peter has made the most beautiful email you'll ever receive. Sign up with the link down below. It's the best way to stay connected between videos, short, focused updates on what's new and fascinating in space each week. No spam, no filler, just the good stuff. You'll get the latest news, visuals and insights delivered straight into your inbox. If you enjoy Astrum videos, you'll love this. Join the newsletter and stay curious with us.
