I was elated when I saw hardware I built go to space for the first time in January. I had worked for my current employer for a bit over a month and had never imagined it would happen so quickly. However, in that mix of emotions was a deep-seated discomfort: this was a rocket headed to orbit — it could have very easily been headed to a war zone. Nearly everything in aerospace is considered “dual-use,” meaning it has direct applications for civilian and military use. It’s the reason — aside from math being hard and me hating school — that I dropped out of my aerospace engineering degree two and a half years ago. I couldn’t stomach the fact that the technology I would be developing could be used both to land on the Moon and take the life of another person.

And yet, here I am — in the industry anyway. Crawling back not as an engineer, but as a technician. Not building missiles, but orbital rockets. The distinction matters to me, even if it’s a blurry one. I didn’t return to aerospace because I made peace with the dual-use problem. I came back because I want to further our reach into the cosmos, and because this job lets me put my hands on the machines that leave Earth. That’s magic. It still feels like magic.

But magic doesn’t erase morality.

The rockets I build are peaceful, at least that’s what I tell myself. They launch satellites that improve life on Earth, Moon landers, and probes studying the cosmos. That distinction matters to me, but it comes with a single, very large, caveat: the Department of Defense is probably our largest customer. Lol, perhaps lmao. Whether it be an early-warning missile defense satellite for the Space Force or a [REDACTED] for the National Reconnaissance Office, these are all tools for war that my beloved “peaceful” rocket launches.

With the same rocket — just a different payload, a different customer — a technology of wonder becomes a technology of war. The lines between NASA, commercial space, and the DoD aren’t lines at all — they’re gradients. And if I’m being honest, there are days I’m not sure where my values fall along that gradient.

This isn’t an abstract problem for me. We have contracts with the DoD, I have friends and coworkers that work on things they can’t talk about, and we launch our rockets from a Space Force base. Hell, when someone asks me what I do for work and I want to keep it vague I tell them I work in defense. It’s the truth, but sometimes the truth isn’t what we want it to be. I’m all for strengthening the might of the U.S. military when it’s resources are helping Ukraine target Russian assets on occupied land, but when kids in Gaza are being turned to pink mist by airstrikes, it’s hard not to feel complicit in something monstrous.

There’s no easy resolution here. I don’t have a tidy moral calculus that tells me it’s okay to keep doing what I do. I just know that this industry, this work, still calls to me. I believe in space — not in some capitalist, “space economy” kind of way, but in the old-school dreamer sense. I want us to explore. To learn. To connect people and maybe one day stand on another planet not as conquerors, but as caretakers, explorers, and innovators.

But wanting that future means wrestling with the present. It means acknowledging that space isn’t neutral — it is political, strategic, violent. The same boosters that launch telescopes launch targeting systems. The same companies bidding for NASA science missions are bidding for Pentagon contracts. I’m part of that ecosystem, whether I like it or not.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this. Not to absolve myself, and definitely not to condemn others in the industry — many of whom are just as conflicted as I am. But to name the discomfort out loud. To refuse the luxury of ignorance and to remind myself that even if the lines are blurry, my values still matter in how I show up to this work.

Below is an edited version of a blog post I wrote for work. Only proprietary and/or export controlled information has been omitted.

In the [Big Blue building], down the way past mountains of crates, inside the CWA,¹ and inside a storage cabinet lives a handful of tubes of Krytox 240AC.² Now, Krytox is one of those materials you didn’t know you always needed until you first use it. We use it liberally here at [Certain Blue Aerospace Company] for everything from o-ring lubrication to preventing fitting galling. You can find more than a few tubes in just about any work center. However, a startling trend has struck the Krytox supply in my local CWA: not a single tube has its cap.

I can already hear you saying “What the fuck is this rando yapping about?” I get it, this seems like a stupid thing to not only be upset about but also write a blog post about. My issue lies in the fact that this shows a blatant disregard for 5S³ procedures, lack of work ethic, and a dangerous level of complacency.

First of all, let us go over why tubes of Krytox — or anything else for that matter — have caps. Caps serve two purposes: to keep the stuff in the tube inside and keep stuff out of the tube outside. Believe it or not, we work on hardware inside of CWAs for a hopefully very obvious reason: keeping components clean. Sure, we use Krytox like it’s aerospace-grade mayonnaise on an aluminium sandwich, but PFPE contamination is a genuine concern for many of the components we work on within the confines of the big bubble cube.

It isn’t uncommon for tubes of consumables to be covered in small amounts of Mystery Goo — often the material they’re holding. But what about the times the Mystery Goo isn’t what you think?

That smear on the outside of your Cor-Ban? It might be Krytox from a capless tube. It might also be DOW 730, Loctite, Molykote, or one of the many other word-salad chemicals all jumbled in a cabinet with varying levels of sealing and cleanliness. Without a cap — and without caring — you’ve got no way of knowing. You may not even think twice when you grab a particularly slimy container. In an environment where small amounts of residues can result in bond-compromising contamination or broken down seals that “whatever” mentality suddenly becomes a work work stoppage, a nonconformance, or worse: an anomaly report.

A missing cap is a symptom. It’s what happens when people treat their tools and workspaces like everybody else’s problem. In a high-stakes environment like aerospace, your discipline bleeds into everything: torques, inspections, even how you log your work. If you can’t take five seconds to replace a cap, wipe off a container, or swap your gloves, what else are you letting slide?

5S isn’t just a buzzword filled “lean thing” managers like to slap on laminated posters. It’s the foundation of creating a consistent, reliable workflow not mired in chaos. “Sort, Set, Shine” starts with small stuff: replace a cap, wipe a container, swap your gloves. “Standardize, Sustain” is about building a culture where that becomes second nature. If that can’t be done, what are we even doing here?

Just two weeks ago I removed four tubes from the CWA with no caps, cleaned up the pool of Krytox oil⁴ that was contaminating everything in the cabinet, and replaced them with fresh materiel. Tonight there was no oil puddle, but there were six capless Krytox tubes. I’ve taped a note on the bench top above the storage cabinet that reminds those using the supplies inside to remember 5S principles.

I’m not here to be a Krytox cop. In fact, I hate getting needlessly pissed off over problems that shouldn’t exist. But I am here to give a damn about the work we do. We should all take pride in the work we do every step of the way. We’re building hardware that’s going to space for [fuck’s] sake! if something as tiny as a cap can tell you if someone cared — or didn’t — then it’s not just a tube of grease anymore. It’s a marker of pride, ownership, and embracing Team Blue.

1. A controlled work area. In this case, a clean room. ↩︎
2. Krytox 240AC is a perfluoropolyether (PFPE) lubricant grease commonly used in aerospace due to its stability in extreme environments. ↩︎
3. 5S is a workplace organization method that stands for Sort, Set in order, Shine, Standardize, and Sustain, aimed at improving efficiency, safety, and cleanliness. It helps eliminate waste, streamline processes, and maintain a productive, organized work environment. ↩︎
4. Krytox also available in oil form. ↩︎