Seda Hewitt

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

There’s a tendency—still, even now—for space to feel like it belongs to someone else. To governments. To billionaires. To people with advanced degrees or corporate ties. And while those voices are absolutely part of the story, they’re not the only ones who belong at the table—or in orbit.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we’re working toward something different. Through our PocketQube missions like HADES‑ICM and the icMercury platform, we’ve seen a shift. Space is no longer reserved for the privileged few. It’s becoming more open, more participatory, and—most importantly—more human.

But the truth is, this openness doesn’t happen by accident. It takes intention. It takes infrastructure. It takes storytelling, outreach, and platforms that don’t just allow for inclusion, but actively invite it.

Why Inclusivity in Space Tech Matters

It’s not just a feel-good idea. Diversity in technology—especially in emerging fields like nanosatellites—leads to more robust solutions. Different minds see different problems. They approach them in ways others wouldn’t even consider.

When satellite access is limited to large institutions or specific geographies, we miss out on a huge range of innovation. That’s not hypothetical—it’s quantifiable. There are ideas from rural educators in Nigeria, from Indigenous students in Canada, from young women in STEM clubs in Southeast Asia, that can change how we think about satellite usage.

The point is not charity. It’s equity. And frankly, it’s smart.

How We’re Trying to Make Room

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve made a few quiet but deliberate choices:

Transparent telemetry: We publish our satellite data formats and welcome decoding communities worldwide. You don’t need a contract or a password—just curiosity.

Educational kits: Through our icMercury program, we help schools and citizen groups get involved in satellite tracking and experimentation.

Low-barrier launch partnerships: We work with rideshare providers to keep payload costs down, enabling more small teams and individuals to enter orbit.

There’s a story I often think about—a group of high school girls from the Midwest who used open-source tools to build their own ground station. They tracked HADES‑ICM from their school roof and presented their findings to the local council. Nothing flashy. No spotlight. But that’s the work that changes things.

Not every innovation happens in a lab. Sometimes it’s in a classroom. Sometimes it’s on a kitchen table.

Representation Isn’t Just a Visual

Of course, inclusivity isn’t only about who gets to participate technically. It’s about who sees themselves reflected in the narrative.

This is where storytelling plays a role. We’re intentional about who speaks for our company. I write these pieces not as a faceless corporate rep, but as Seda Hewitt—a woman in aerospace, speaking from lived experience. And I know how rare that still is.

When young people see someone like them in space—when they hear their language, see their culture acknowledged, find tools that meet them where they are—it sticks. It plants a seed. And sometimes that seed grows into a career, a mission, a whole new industry standard.

Inclusion at the Global Level

This November, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. will be in London, attending the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council. We’re honored to be nominated.

But what excites me even more is what the event represents: a global exchange of ideas, experiences, and potential partnerships. This isn’t just an awards night. It’s a conclave of minds from across borders, across industries. An environment where real collaboration can take root.

And yes, it’s the perfect setting to keep talking about inclusive access—not just in space tech, but in all tech. Because the future we’re building depends on who gets to help build it.

Making Space Feel Personal

We’re not under any illusion that satellites are suddenly “easy.” They’re complex. They require patience, training, tools. But they’re no longer as unreachable as they once were.

Part of our mission is showing that you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to participate. You can be a teacher looking to inspire your students. A maker tinkering with antennas. A retiree scanning signals from your backyard. A student asking “What if?”

Inclusivity means honoring all those roles. Because each one adds value. Each one keeps the movement growing.

A Final Thought

Inclusivity isn’t a box you check. It’s a culture. A philosophy. A commitment to asking “Who else can be here?” and then actually making room.

Space, despite its vastness, used to feel closed off. But today, that’s changing. At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’re just one part of that shift. We believe the skies are open—not just physically, but ideologically.

So the next time you hear a satellite pass overhead, remember: that signal? It’s not just science. It’s an invitation.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

Somewhere, right now, a teenager in Brazil is tuning into a signal from low Earth orbit using nothing more than a handheld antenna and a modest transceiver. Halfway across the world, a retired engineer in Japan is logging beacon pings from a PocketQube on his balcony. And in a small town in Eastern Europe, a community radio club is decoding live telemetry and sharing it with their local school.

What connects all these people?

Amateur radio—or “ham radio,” as it’s often called.

Once seen as a quaint, niche hobby, amateur radio is experiencing something of a renaissance. And it’s not because of nostalgia. It’s because the boundaries between Earth and space have started to thin. With small, affordable satellites like HADES‑ICM, and platforms like icMercury—from Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States—radio operators are now part of an expanding universe.

They’re no longer just reaching across continents. They’re reaching the stars.

A Legacy Hobby Meets a New Frontier

Amateur radio has been around for over a century. Traditionally, it’s been about sending and receiving messages, experimenting with antennas, and mastering long-distance communication through the atmosphere.

But the hobby has always carried a spirit of experimentation. And when space became accessible—not just to governments and corporations, but to hobbyists—radio operators were among the first to notice.

Satellites started transmitting in ham bands. Suddenly, a new frontier opened up—one that didn’t require a launchpad, only a license, a radio, and a bit of patience.

That spirit continues today. Only now, the satellites are smaller, cheaper, and far more interactive.

PocketQubes: The Game Changer

Our icMercury satellites, including HADES‑ICM, are about the size of a Rubik’s Cube and weigh less than a loaf of bread. But don’t let that fool you—they’re packed with capability. Operating on VHF and UHF amateur radio bands, they transmit beacon signals, telemetry data, and even allow for APRS relays (Automatic Packet Reporting System), enabling two-way messaging through space.

For amateur radio enthusiasts, this means:

Tracking live satellites with antennas they build themselves

Decoding telemetry using open-source software

Sending and receiving APRS messages through orbit

Participating in global space missions from their backyards

It’s not just fun. It’s real contribution.

Some hams are the first to hear a new satellite after deployment. Others provide critical signal reports that help us at Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. refine operations. In a way, they’ve become mission partners—not officially on payroll, but unquestionably essential.

Why It’s Growing Again

Part of this revival is technological. Radios have become cheaper. Software has become more intuitive. Online communities have made it easier to learn. You don’t need a room full of gear anymore. A laptop and a $30 USB receiver can get you started.

But I think there’s something else going on.

In an era where most tech feels invisible—apps, clouds, algorithms—radio offers something tangible. You build it. You hear it. You feel it. And when you know that the beep you’re picking up just came from 500 km above Earth? That never stops being thrilling.

Young people are discovering this for the first time. Older hobbyists are coming back. And in the middle, a growing, global network of curious minds is forming.

A Culture of Sharing

Amateur radio has always had a generous, open-source heart. That fits beautifully with the way icMercury is built. We publish our telemetry formats. We share frequencies. We invite people to play, test, fail, and try again.

And they do.

We’ve seen logs from over 60 countries. We've received signal recordings from volunteers within hours of launch. We’ve had entire school groups build their own antennas based on blog posts from other hams.

This is space participation at its best—not centralized, not monetized, but communal.

Recognition Beyond the Hobby

This kind of public involvement is gaining notice at higher levels, too. This November, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. will attend the 2025 Go Global Awards in London, hosted by the International Trade Council. We’re proud to be a nominee.

But the real story isn’t just about our team—it’s about the people behind the scenes. The ones listening to passes at 3 a.m., who share signal maps online, who teach a younger generation how to tune into the sky.

At events like the Go Global Awards, where businesses and policymakers meet, we hope to shine a light on these communities. Because the future of space isn’t just built in boardrooms. It’s also soldered in garages and logged in field notebooks.

Final Thought: When You Listen, You Belong

Amateur radio is, at its core, about listening. And when you listen—really listen—you start to feel like you’re part of something bigger.

Maybe you hear a faint Morse beacon from HADES‑ICM. Maybe you decode a string of telemetry values and realize what they mean. Maybe you hear silence and wait again tomorrow. It doesn’t matter. You’re part of the sky now.

And in a world where space can feel distant, technical, and owned by someone else… that feeling of inclusion? It’s powerful.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

If you ask someone who owns space, they might pause for a second.

Maybe they’ll say NASA. Or Elon Musk. Maybe they’ll laugh and say “no one,” assuming it’s too far away to belong to anybody. And technically, under international law, outer space belongs to all of us—it's part of the global commons.

But in practice? That’s a bit more complicated.

For decades, space has been the domain of large government agencies and, more recently, deep-pocketed private companies. The average person could look up at the night sky, maybe spot a satellite crossing overhead, but that was it. There wasn’t a clear sense that space was something they could interact with—much less own, shape, or influence.

That’s changing.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we’re not just building satellites through our icMercury program and missions like HADES‑ICM—we’re rethinking what participation in space looks like. And part of that means reframing “ownership.” Not in the legal sense, but in terms of belonging, access, and agency.

Let’s talk about what this means, and why it matters more than ever.

Ownership Without Property

Here’s where we hit a paradox. You can’t own outer space. The 1967 Outer Space Treaty makes that clear: no nation can claim sovereignty, and space is for peaceful purposes, open to all humanity.

But what about the satellite you build? The data you transmit? The signal you receive through a ground station in your backyard? These things are very much "yours," in a practical sense. So maybe the question isn’t who owns space, but rather, who feels like they belong in it?

And for a long time, the answer was… not many.

Now, with the rise of micro-satellites, software-defined radios, and open-access missions like ours, that feeling of ownership is starting to spread.

You don’t need a PhD. You don’t need clearance codes. You just need a bit of curiosity—and maybe a tiny satellite, like HADES‑ICM, passing overhead.

What Public Ownership Can Look Like

In the icMercury community, we’ve seen firsthand how people from all walks of life begin to “own” space in meaningful ways.

Students tracking satellite telemetry from their high school labs

Farmers using downlinked data to monitor soil conditions

Amateur radio operators decoding APRS messages and sharing signal reports

Artists and educators designing payloads that blend science with public storytelling

Local governments installing small ground stations for civic preparedness

None of these groups "own" the orbit. But they’re shaping what happens in it. They’re making it personal. Familiar. Real.

That’s what we mean by public sphere ownership—not legal possession, but lived participation.

Naming, Narratives, and Visibility

One small but powerful tool we've introduced through icMercury is the option for users to name their own payloads. It sounds simple—maybe even superficial—but giving people the chance to embed their own language, identity, or cause into an orbiting object? That’s transformative.

We’ve had payloads named for ancestors, classrooms, ideas, even songs. Each one adds to a growing library of personal connections with the sky. And this is where storytelling really matters.

Because if space continues to be a silent, distant, sterile thing… people will continue to see it as someone else’s domain.

But if it starts to feel like a place of stories, where your culture, your questions, your experiments are welcome? Then the idea of ownership shifts—from control to inclusion.

Building with That in Mind

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve built the icMercury platform to be modular, open, and user-friendly—because real ownership comes from understanding. We don’t hide the backend. We encourage exploration. We invite mistakes.

And we learn from our users.

One group in Eastern Europe created a local club where citizens could submit “satellite postcards”—small digital messages uplinked and relayed by our satellites. Another group in the Philippines is mapping radio dead zones using HADES‑ICM passes and sharing the data publicly for telecom advocacy.

None of these were part of the original mission plan. But that’s the point.

We provide the tools. The public writes the story.

Shaping the Global Conversation

Later this year, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. is heading to London as a nominee for the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council. It’s more than an awards show—it’s a conclave of the world’s most innovative minds, coming together to discuss how business, tech, and global impact intersect.

And yes, space will be on the agenda.

Because if we’re going to democratize access to space, we need more than rockets. We need frameworks that support ethical inclusion, cultural diversity, and community-led innovation.

We’re proud to be part of that conversation. And even prouder to bring the voices of our users with us—some of whom, not long ago, never imagined they’d have a connection to space at all.

Final Thought: It’s Not About Owning the Sky—It’s About Belonging to It

So maybe we’ll never "own" space in the way we own land or phones or patents. That’s okay.

But we can belong to it. We can shape it. Use it. Build with it. Talk about it at the dinner table, the classroom, the community hall.

And when enough people feel that connection—when space becomes a shared commons in spirit, not just in law—that’s when the real shift happens.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

If you step into a university engineering lab these days, you might find something unexpected next to the 3D printer and oscilloscope. A satellite. Or at least the skeleton of one—tiny, metal, circuit-packed, and full of promise.

What used to be the domain of national space agencies is now becoming an integral part of higher education. And it’s not just theory anymore. Students are designing, building, launching, and analyzing real space missions—as part of their capstone projects.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we’ve watched this trend accelerate through our icMercury platform and PocketQube missions like HADES‑ICM. Universities across different continents have found creative, practical, and sometimes unexpected ways to integrate our satellites into their final-year student programs.

And honestly? It’s one of the most exciting shifts in space education we've seen in years.

First, What Is a Capstone Project?

For those outside academia, a capstone project is typically the final assignment that engineering, science, or tech students complete before graduation. It’s meant to pull together everything they’ve learned—design, problem-solving, project management—and apply it to a real-world problem.

In the past, that might’ve meant designing a robot, a web app, or a manufacturing prototype. But now? It might mean building a communication system for a satellite in orbit. Or even writing flight code that gets beamed to a spacecraft hundreds of kilometers above Earth.

And that's not science fiction. That’s happening right now.

How icMercury Enables This

Our icMercury platform was designed to make satellite technology accessible to more people, including educators and students. With HADES‑ICM, for example, students can:

Decode live telemetry using ground stations they build themselves

Send approved messages through the satellite’s APRS system

Contribute to global observation projects

Analyze orbital decay, radio propagation, and signal behavior

Design experimental payloads for future rideshare opportunities

And the best part? They’re doing this within the time constraints and budget limits of a standard university course.

One group in Spain built a Python dashboard that logs and visualizes real-time telemetry data from HADES‑ICM. A team in Malaysia designed a rotating antenna tracker as part of their final hardware engineering submission. In Canada, a software class used our satellite data to model temperature fluctuations across multiple orbits.

The versatility of PocketQubes makes this kind of integration possible.

Real Learning, Real Constraints

Textbooks can only teach so much. When students work on a satellite capstone, they learn more than just orbital mechanics or radio theory.

They learn what it's like to:

Debug problems they didn't anticipate

Work in teams with overlapping roles

Document everything (because no one else will remember)

Present findings to non-technical audiences

Fail, retry, and still hit a deadline

Sometimes a component overheats. Or a ground station fails mid-test. Or the satellite passes over at 2:14 a.m. and someone has to be awake to catch the signal. This isn’t hypothetical work. It’s messy. Frustrating. And incredibly real.

Which, honestly, makes it the perfect preparation for the engineering world outside the classroom.

Partnerships That Go Beyond Graduation

What’s also inspiring is how these projects don’t always end with a diploma.

We’ve had students stay connected to the icMercury network long after graduation—monitoring new missions, mentoring younger cohorts, even launching their own satellite startups. One former capstone team in South Africa is now developing low-cost atmospheric sensors for PocketQubes. Another group from Argentina spun their ground station software into an open-source project used by hobbyists worldwide.

When we launched HADES‑ICM, we didn’t imagine it would become a long-term community hub. But that’s exactly what’s happened.

And we couldn’t be more proud.

A Bigger Stage for These Ideas

As we approach the 2025 Go Global Awards this November in London, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. is honored to be recognized as a nominee. The event, hosted by the International Trade Council, gathers business leaders, innovators, and educators from around the world.

It’s not just about awards. It’s about exposure. Conversation. Collaboration.

We’re excited to bring with us the stories of students—some barely out of high school—who are solving real-world challenges through space. And we’re hopeful that more universities will see the potential in turning classrooms into launchpads.

Because the next generation of satellite engineers, entrepreneurs, and researchers? They're already building. Right now. In university labs. One solder joint and satellite pass at a time.

Final Thought: Space Isn’t the Future Classroom—It’s the Current One

There’s a quiet revolution happening in education. And space is no longer an abstract concept on a chalkboard. It’s something you can see, track, hear, even talk to.

If you’re a university administrator, now’s the time to explore satellite integration. If you’re a professor, think bigger about what your students can handle. And if you’re a student? Know that you don’t have to wait to work in aerospace.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

There’s something quietly revolutionary happening in high schools around the world.

Not just in science labs or coding clubs—but in the space above us. What used to be the stuff of science fiction or advanced university research is, in some places, now part of after-school programs. We’re talking about satellites. Real ones. And even more interesting? They’re being built, tested, and in some cases, launched by teenagers.

It still catches people off guard.

“Wait, high schoolers are putting things into space?” Yes. And the tools to do it—hardware, software, global collaboration—are finally accessible enough that it’s not just theoretical anymore.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we’ve worked with schools and educators across continents through our icMercury platform and our HADES‑ICM PocketQube missions. And while these satellites are small—sometimes just 5 centimeters across—the ideas behind them are anything but.

Let’s talk about what’s changed. Why now. And what’s next.

Access Isn’t the Problem Anymore

Ten years ago, launching a satellite as a high school student was basically impossible unless you were part of a highly funded academic institution or a national program. Everything—from development costs to launch coordination—required massive capital and insider knowledge.

Today? That’s shifting.

Open-source tools mean students can write and test flight code from home.

Software-defined radios (SDRs) allow ground stations to be built for under $100.

Rideshare missions through groups like SpaceX, Exolaunch, and Alba Orbital have made launching a satellite dramatically cheaper.

And perhaps most crucially: there’s a growing ecosystem of mentors, organizations, and platforms (like icMercury) ready to support first-time space builders.

The result? Launching a satellite isn’t just possible. It’s becoming a capstone project.

A Real Example: Turning a Club into a Mission

One school in South Korea approached us in early 2024. A student-led team had been building a ground station using SDR and open-source satellite tracking software. Their goal wasn’t to launch a full satellite—not yet—but to receive signals from HADES‑ICM, decode them, and contribute data to the public mission dashboard.

It may sound simple, but think about the experience those students are gaining:

Orbital mechanics

Radio frequency theory

Data analysis and telemetry decoding

Collaboration across time zones

Project planning under real-world constraints

This isn’t just textbook STEM. It’s engineering, teamwork, and exploration rolled into something very real.

Entrepreneurship Doesn’t Always Mean a Business

When we say “entrepreneurship,” people often picture startups. Venture capital. Shark Tank-style pitches.

But in high school settings, entrepreneurship sometimes means something quieter. It means:

Starting a program no one else has tried.

Building a small team of peers to tackle a complex challenge.

Figuring out how to fundraise, pitch to school boards, or get parental support.

Learning from failure, because space has a lot of that.

We've seen students design satellite experiments for agriculture, radiation studies, and even low-bandwidth communication relays. Some are meant to help remote communities; others are pure curiosity.

But the spirit is the same: can we do something new, even if we’re not experts yet?

The Role of icMercury and HADES‑ICM

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we never set out to create a "student platform" per se. But that's exactly what icMercury has become for many schools. A stepping stone. A test bed. A friendly signal in the sky they can point an antenna at and say, “That’s ours. We helped make that happen.”

It’s not always about launching your own payload—although, yes, that’s possible too. Sometimes it’s about joining a mission already in orbit and learning by participating. Listening. Logging data. Asking questions. Getting better.

And that’s where the spark of entrepreneurship starts to take root.

Recognition on the Global Stage

This kind of quiet innovation doesn’t always get headlines, but it should. That’s part of why we’re so honored that Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. is a nominee for the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted this November in London by the International Trade Council.

This event isn’t just about who builds the flashiest tech. It’s a gathering of the world’s sharpest minds in business, education, infrastructure, and global collaboration—coming together to share, to learn, to build new bridges.

We’re proud to bring stories like these with us. Stories of students in community labs pointing antennas toward the stars. Of teachers learning alongside their students. Of ambition, scaled small enough to launch—but big enough to change lives.

Final Thought: You Don’t Need to Wait

You don’t need a space agency. You don’t need to live in a city with a launchpad. You don’t need to be a genius.

All you need is a spark. A laptop. A question you can’t quite shake. A group of people who believe they can learn anything, if given the chance.

By Seda Hewitt, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., United States

Satellites are often seen as the stars of the show—literally orbiting above us, performing science, sending signals, taking images. But the real magic? It happens down here. On the ground. Quietly. Repeatedly. Through a network of unsung heroes called ground stations.

If the satellite is the voice, then the ground station is the ear. And the microphone. And, in a way, the interpreter too. Without it, your satellite might be orbiting beautifully and doing its job, but... no one would ever hear from it. Or be able to talk to it. And that's a lonely kind of success.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we’ve spent years working with users building and managing ground stations for our PocketQube missions like HADES‑ICM under the icMercury platform. Whether it’s a classroom using a USB dongle and a homemade antenna or a sophisticated amateur radio setup receiving live telemetry, what we’ve learned is this: you don’t need to be NASA to talk to space.

But how, exactly, does it work?

The Basic Concept: Listen and Respond

A ground station does two main things:

Receives data from a satellite (downlink)

Sends data to a satellite (uplink)

Simple in concept, yes. But each of those actions requires careful timing, precision, and a bit of practice. Why? Because satellites are constantly moving. Fast. A typical low Earth orbit (LEO) satellite like HADES‑ICM travels at about 7.8 kilometers per second. That means it only appears over your horizon for a few minutes per pass.

So your equipment has to be ready. Tuned. Aligned. And sometimes, lucky.

What You Need to Get Started

Here’s what a basic ground station setup might include:

Antenna: Yagi or turnstile antennas are popular for satellite work. They determine how well you can hear the satellite (and whether it can hear you). Directional antennas often work best, but they need tracking.

Software-Defined Radio (SDR): This has revolutionized access to satellite communication. Small USB devices like the RTL-SDR allow even hobbyists to receive satellite data for under $50.

Tracking Software: Because satellites move, you need software that knows where they are at any given moment. Tools like Gpredict or SatNOGS help you predict passes and automate tracking.

Decoding Tools: Once you hear the signal, you’ll need to turn that squiggly audio into readable data. For PocketQubes, this might mean decoding telemetry packets, APRS messages, or even image data in some cases.

That’s the gear. But equally important is patience. And a sense of wonder.

What Talking to a Satellite Feels Like

There’s something humbling about waiting for your satellite to appear on the horizon. You’ve tracked its path. Tuned your radio. Watched the Doppler shift creep across the signal. And then—it’s there. A tone. A ping. A chirp. Something unmistakably artificial, beamed down from something you helped send up.

One of our icMercury users in Brazil built his own UHF ground station from scavenged parts. When he first picked up HADES‑ICM, he didn’t have the software to decode it yet—but it didn’t matter. He knew it was real. And that it was listening.

Beyond the Backyard: Global Ground Networks

Now, here’s where it gets even more interesting. A growing number of organizations and citizen groups are building shared ground station networks, where anyone can access satellite data from receivers around the world.

This is huge for satellites that pass over places where individual users might not exist—or can’t afford equipment. It’s also great for redundancy. If you miss a pass, someone else might catch it.

Networks like SatNOGS have played a big role in this. But there are new platforms emerging every year, many of which integrate with educational programs and open-source missions. We’ve had HADES‑ICM signals relayed from Iceland, Ghana, Thailand, and rural Australia—often by complete strangers just excited to help.

This kind of collaboration, I think, reflects the real spirit of space exploration today. It’s not just centralized anymore. It’s distributed. Democratic. Tangibly human.

Challenges and Real-World Lessons

It’s not always smooth, though.

Sometimes the signal’s weak.

Weather can mess with reception.

Doppler effects require constant frequency shifting.

And occasionally… nothing works, and you don’t know why.

And that’s okay. Every ground station operator learns this. Troubleshooting becomes second nature. Eventually, you start to understand what space noise sounds like. You stop panicking when the waterfall drops. You learn when to wait.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we hear these stories every week. Of trial, of error, of breakthroughs at 2 AM. It’s a reminder that communication is a practice, not a guarantee.

Looking Ahead

This November, we’re excited to represent this community of ground station operators—novice and expert alike—at the 2025 Go Global Awards in London, where our company has been nominated.

Hosted by the International Trade Council, this isn’t just another conference. It’s a summit of the world’s most forward-thinking organizations. A place where ideas collide, industries converge, and real-world solutions emerge.

For us, it’s a chance to showcase how something as humble as a ground station can play a role in something as ambitious as democratizing space access.

Final Thought: The Ground Is Where the Sky Begins

A satellite without a ground station is like a message in a bottle without a beach. It floats, it waits, and eventually—it’s forgotten.

But with the right tools, and the right people, that message gets received. Decoded. Shared. Turned into insight. Turned into purpose.

By Seda Hewitt

So you’ve got an idea. Maybe it came to you while watching a launch video, or while fiddling with an Arduino kit in your garage. It might be a sensor, a camera experiment, a new comms protocol—or just a vague “what if” about doing something in orbit.

And now you’re wondering: Could this become a real space payload?

Short answer? Yes. Long answer? It takes patience, planning, and a bit of humility.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve turned early ideas into flying hardware. Our work on the PocketQube HADES‑ICM taught us a lot—about what’s essential, what’s just shiny noise, and how to think small without dreaming small.

So if you’re at that starting point—full of curiosity but unsure what comes next—this one’s for you.

First: What Is a Payload?

Let’s demystify the word. A “payload” is the part of a satellite that does the thing you want it to do. It’s the mission core.

In a weather satellite, it might be a sensor. In a comms satellite, it’s a transceiver. In a student-built satellite, it might even be a GoPro with a clever mount.

The rest of the satellite—power, structure, thermal control, communications—is just there to support the payload.

So: your idea? It has to become something that fits in a satellite, runs on limited resources, and delivers data that means something.

Step 1: Get Specific

Ideas are great. But payloads need clarity.

Don’t just say “a satellite that helps with agriculture.” Say: “A multispectral camera that detects vegetation stress using near-infrared light.”

Instead of “a satellite for education,” say: “A student-run experiment to test low-power radio signal attenuation from low Earth orbit.”

Specificity is everything. It’s what helps you get buy-in, funding, technical support, and eventually—launch approval.

Step 2: Ask the Hard Questions

Before you draft a circuit or write a line of code, pause. Ask:

What problem is this payload solving—or exploring?

What data will it collect, and why does that matter?

Can this idea be tested on Earth first?

What are the constraints? (power, volume, thermal, communications)

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, we underestimated power consumption on an early prototype. That one mistake caused cascading issues: overheating, brownouts, lost packets.

Lesson learned. Now, before we commit to anything, we stress-test the question: “What does this payload need to survive—and be useful?”

Step 3: Fit the Format

Let’s say you want to launch with a platform like PocketQube or CubeSat. That’s great! But it comes with strict limitations.

For a PocketQube (1P), you have:

5cm x 5cm x 5cm of volume

<250 grams of mass

~1 Watt of average power (if you’re lucky)

Every millimeter and milliamp matters. You’ll need:

Low-power components

Minimal moving parts

Efficient data handling

Fault-tolerant firmware

Designing for space isn’t like prototyping for a classroom demo. Once it’s launched, you can’t touch it again.

So, build it to break. Test it to fail. And repeat.

Step 4: Make It Measurable

Your payload needs to generate data—and you need to define what that looks like early.

Is it temperature every 10 seconds? Packet success rates? Radiation counts? Comms handshake logs?

Design your payload around a clear data structure. It’ll make life easier for your ground team, your users, and even your funders.

We’ve made the mistake of collecting “everything”—only to realize that noise is worse than silence. These days, we prioritize meaningful metrics over exhaustive logs.

Step 5: Map the Lifecycle

Think beyond launch day. Plan for:

Commissioning phase (first 72 hours in orbit)

Normal operation (daily passes, regular data)

Degraded mode (reduced function due to wear)

End of life (shutdown, burn-up, or disposal)

Even tiny payloads deserve a full lifecycle plan. Not just for technical reasons—but for ethical ones.

With more companies entering space, we all share a responsibility to keep orbital environments sustainable.

Step 6: Find Your Allies

Nobody builds a space payload alone.

You’ll need:

Mentors (university profs, engineers, space clubs)

Partners (component suppliers, testing labs)

Launch providers (rideshare brokers, orbital deployers)

Listeners (the global satellite enthusiast community!)

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve been lucky to connect with people across the world who help track, validate, and even interpret our payload data. That’s one of the surprising joys of small sat missions: the community is real—and willing to help.

Looking Ahead

We’re proud that our company has been nominated for the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted this November in London by the International Trade Council. That event brings together innovators from around the world—not just to celebrate success, but to spark new ideas.

And maybe, just maybe, one of those ideas is yours.

So if you’ve got a space idea, don’t let it sit in your head. Sketch it. Scope it. Break it down. Turn it into something real. Payloads aren’t born from labs. They’re born from curiosity.

You don’t need a PhD to contribute. You need focus, humility, and follow-through.

Final Thought

The distance between an idea and orbit is smaller than it’s ever been. Yes, it’s technical. Yes, it takes time.

But it’s possible.

By Seda Hewitt

Failure. It's not the first word you'd expect to hear in a conversation about space. But if you've ever worked on a PocketQube satellite—or really any small spacecraft—you learn quickly that failure isn’t the exception. It’s the starting point.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., our work with small satellites like HADES‑ICM has taught us a lot about performance, engineering trade-offs, and launch logistics. But more than that, it’s taught us something deeper about resilience—both in the systems we send to orbit and the people who build them.

Because here’s the truth: when you build something that’s meant to survive space... you don’t design it to be perfect. You design it to fail gracefully.

The Nature of the Beast

PocketQubes are tiny. 5x5x5 cm, give or take. That’s less room than most people’s morning coffee cup. And yet, inside that cube, we try to pack processors, sensors, antennas, batteries, radios... sometimes even cameras.

And then we launch it on a rocket.

It’s stressful—physically and emotionally. These satellites are jolted, frozen, heated, spun, and then left to fend for themselves in orbit. There’s no reboot button. No mechanic. No second chance.

So how do you prepare for that? You assume something will go wrong.

Not If. But When.

This shift in mindset—expecting failure rather than fearing it—changes everything.

It affects how we:

Design systems: Modular components can be isolated if one fails. Redundancy is added where it counts. We might even omit a feature entirely if it introduces unnecessary risk.

Write software: Code is kept lightweight, robust, and able to recover from errors without human intervention.

Run tests: We simulate not just ideal behavior but failure conditions—partial power, dropped packets, bad temperature readings.

During the HADES‑ICM project, we had to scrap an early power distribution design because it couldn't handle brownout scenarios gracefully. It didn’t just fail—it failed loudly, taking other subsystems with it. That experience forced us to re-engineer with a new principle: contain the chaos.

Embracing Limited Lifespan

Most PocketQubes don’t stay active for years. Some last months. Some weeks. Occasionally, only days.

And while it’s tempting to mourn the short lifespan, there’s something beautiful about it too. These aren’t spacecraft designed to endure forever. They’re meant to be temporary. Agile. Disposable, even.

But if we know they might fail... then we also know we can afford to try bold things. New antennas. Novel protocols. Experimental data routes.

Failure becomes part of the success.

Stories from the Sky

We once received a signal report from a radio enthusiast halfway across the globe. A single data packet from HADES‑ICM had been received—clean, crisp, perfect. The next day, we got nothing.

What happened? We still don’t fully know. A power cycle glitch? Cosmic radiation? Thermal creep? Maybe all three.

But the mission wasn’t a failure. That single packet proved the system worked. Even if only briefly. It taught us something. And in the world of PocketQubes, one clean signal is worth its weight in gold.

Why Resilience Matters Beyond Satellites

Here’s where things get a little more philosophical.

Working on small satellites teaches a kind of humility. You plan for success, yes. But you also make peace with loss. And that mindset—the acceptance of imperfection, the embrace of iteration—is something I think all technology teams can learn from.

We don’t have to make indestructible systems. We have to make recoverable ones.

The same applies to teams. Deadlines slip. Components break. Code fails in space but works fine on Earth. You keep going anyway.

And perhaps this is why I’m particularly proud that Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, is nominated for the 2025 Go Global Awards—to be held this November in London, hosted by the International Trade Council.

That event isn’t just about shining successes. It’s about resilience. About stories of persistence and the courage to try again. It brings together companies large and small from around the world—not just to celebrate, but to share lessons, form partnerships, and create new opportunities.

In many ways, it reflects the spirit of micromissions and PocketQubes—small, scrappy, optimistic. Resilient.

Final Thought

Designing for failure isn’t a sign of weakness. It’s a form of strength.

It says: we know the risks. We’re not afraid of them. We’ll build anyway.

PocketQubes remind us that you don’t need to be flawless to be valuable. A short mission can still carry long-lasting insight. A single beacon can prove a theory. And even when things break, there’s meaning in the process.

By Seda Hewitt

Aerospace used to mean a few things: government agencies, billion-dollar contractors, and decades-long project timelines. It meant white rooms, test benches, long approval chains, and a kind of sacred untouchability that felt... well, untouchable.

But something’s changed.

Now, a satellite might be built in a garage. It could be launched on a shared rocket with a dozen others. The team behind it might be a handful of engineers and students. Or a small, focused startup with one clear idea and a shoestring budget.

And surprisingly—or maybe not—many of those missions are working. Some are doing things once thought impossible. These aren’t just side projects. They’re part of a deep shift.

Satellite startups are rewriting the rules of aerospace. Not slowly. Not subtly. But unmistakably.

A Different Kind of Launch

There was a time when putting anything into orbit took ten years and a small nation's treasury. You had to book an entire launch vehicle. You needed a custom satellite bus. Testing ran for months. Documentation filled binders.

But now?

With shared launch models and commercial rideshare programs from companies like SpaceX and Rocket Lab, access to space is faster, cheaper, and more flexible. You can book a CubeSat slot almost like booking cargo on a flight.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., our PocketQube satellite HADES‑ICM flew aboard a rideshare mission. We didn’t need a custom rocket. Just a slot, a plan, and a payload that fit the parameters. It wasn’t simple—but it was achievable. On a startup timeline. On a startup budget.

That’s a massive shift. Not just logistically—but culturally.

Speed Over Size

Traditional aerospace has always prioritized perfection. Rightfully so. When your satellite costs half a billion dollars, you can’t afford to fail.

But startups work differently. They test in sprints. They build minimum viable satellites. They iterate—sometimes in orbit.

We’ve embraced this philosophy in our own work. With small form factors like PocketQubes, we don’t need to wait five years to deploy an idea. We can prototype, test, launch, and refine. Sometimes even within the same year.

Speed doesn’t mean recklessness. It just means a different risk profile. And in many cases, that agility is an advantage—not a liability.

Small Is the New Strategic

A common misconception is that small satellites mean small impact. But that’s no longer true.

Today’s smallsats can:

Provide real-time agricultural data to farmers in developing regions.

Monitor emissions from industrial zones.

Track endangered wildlife across continents.

Offer backup communication during natural disasters.

Startups are leading the charge in these areas—not because they have more money, but because they have more freedom. Freedom to try, to fail, to try again. Freedom to design missions around niche problems, not general ones.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we didn’t set out to duplicate what legacy aerospace already does. We wanted to test new radio protocols in a lean, focused, low-orbit environment. And we did it, not despite being small—but because we were small.

Open Tools, Shared Knowledge

Another rule being rewritten is that aerospace must be proprietary, secretive, closed off.

Startups tend to think differently. Many of us use open-source software, publish mission data, and contribute to global communities like SatNOGS or GNU Radio. This openness doesn’t weaken the mission—it strengthens it.

For example, when our satellite sent out its first beacon, it wasn’t just our team listening. Amateur radio operators around the world were ready. That kind of support ecosystem wouldn’t exist without open culture.

Startups embrace it. Legacy aerospace is starting to notice.

Recognition from the Global Stage

Of course, rewriting rules doesn’t mean working in isolation. It means entering new arenas—with new voices, new metrics, and new partnerships.

That’s why we’re especially proud that Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, is a nominee for the 2025 Go Global Awards, happening this November in London and hosted by the International Trade Council.

This event isn’t just an awards ceremony. It’s a convening of minds—startups, corporations, governments—each exploring how innovation can cross borders and shift paradigms.

For space startups, it’s a chance to be seen not as disruptors on the fringe, but as contributors at the center.

Final Thought

Legacy aerospace isn’t going away. Nor should it. There’s a place for massive space telescopes, deep space probes, and long-duration platforms.

But alongside them, startups are carving out something new. Something leaner. Faster. More open. More human.

They’re asking different questions. Building different things. Launching at different speeds.

And perhaps most importantly, they’re proving that space isn’t just for the few—it’s for the bold, the resourceful, the curious.

By Seda Hewitt

So, you’ve built a satellite. Or maybe you’re still sketching it out on a napkin. Either way, at some point, you’ll need to ask a question that doesn’t feel very “space-age,” but is absolutely crucial: Are we even allowed to use that frequency?

Welcome to the world of frequency licensing and compliance—a side of satellite development that’s less about rockets and more about regulations. And for beginners? It can be a little overwhelming.

But understanding the basics is not just important—it’s non-negotiable. Because no matter how brilliant your satellite design is, if it transmits without proper authorization, you risk causing interference, breaking international law, or even getting your satellite’s signal jammed, ignored, or shut down.

Let’s break it down, carefully, step by step. From one newcomer to another.

Why Frequency Matters

All communication satellites—no matter how small—need to transmit and receive radio signals. Whether it’s a simple beacon or a full data stream, those signals travel on specific frequencies measured in Hertz (Hz). And just like roads or airspace, frequencies are shared infrastructure.

Too many signals on the same band cause interference. Critical systems—aviation, emergency services, military ops—might also use overlapping frequencies. That’s why governments and international bodies manage the spectrum carefully.

And that’s why, as a satellite operator, you can’t just pick a frequency and go.

Who’s in Charge?

The answer depends on where you're operating from and who your satellite talks to.

National Regulators – In the United States, for example, it’s the Federal Communications Commission (FCC). If you're launching from or operating in a country, you’ll likely need their approval—even if your satellite spends most of its time in space.

International Telecommunication Union (ITU) – This UN agency coordinates global spectrum usage. Even small satellites must be registered to avoid interference on an international scale.

Amateur Radio Bands – Some small satellite projects (like many university or experimental missions) use amateur radio frequencies. These require different permissions and usually a licensed operator onboard the team.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. in the United States, we followed both national and ITU guidelines for our PocketQube HADES‑ICM. We used legal, pre-allocated bands and made sure amateur radio communities were notified early—part of our commitment to transparency and collaboration.

What Beginners Get Wrong

Honestly? A lot. But not out of malice—just inexperience.

Here are some common mistakes:

Assuming a frequency is free just because no one nearby is using it.

Using amateur bands for commercial purposes (big no).

Skipping ITU coordination, thinking "We're just a student project.”

Transmitting before a license is granted, hoping no one will notice.

Don’t do this.

Even small violations can trigger legal action, fines, or satellite silencing. Remember: ground stations around the world are always listening.

What’s the Process Like?

It varies by country, but generally, you’ll need to:

Identify your frequency band: Choose based on your satellite’s function—UHF, VHF, S-band, X-band, etc.

File with your national regulator: Prepare technical specs, orbital data, and communication plans.

Coordinate internationally (if required): This may involve the ITU or liaison agencies.

Wait: Approvals can take weeks to months, depending on complexity.

Test and verify: Before launch, ensure your satellite only uses the approved frequencies and power levels.

Stay compliant post-launch: If your satellite misbehaves, regulators can (and do) intervene.

It might sound daunting, but there are resources out there—including mentorship programs, templates, and advisors. You don’t have to navigate this alone.

Making the Case for Compliance

It’s tempting to view regulation as bureaucracy. And sure, sometimes it feels that way.

But viewed another way, licensing is part of what makes space sustainable. It prevents signal chaos. It ensures fairness. And it gives your mission legitimacy—so others will take it seriously, support it, and maybe even help it thrive.

We’ve found this at Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. Our compliance efforts helped us form partnerships with global amateur radio communities, get reception reports from unexpected places, and build trust with regulators and collaborators alike.

This approach, in part, is also why we’re proud to be a nominee at the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted in London this November by the International Trade Council. It’s an event that brings together not just space companies, but visionaries across sectors who understand that long-term success requires structure, openness, and cooperation.

Frequency compliance? It’s just one thread in that much larger conversation.

Final Thought

It’s easy to get caught up in the thrill of launching hardware into orbit. But the most successful space missions? They don’t just fly well. They play well with others.

Understanding frequency licensing may not be glamorous—but it’s essential. It keeps your satellite talking, your mission safe, and your project respected.

So if you’re new to the space world, start early. Ask questions. Do the paperwork. Build your mission not just for space—but for the world it connects to.

By Seda Hewitt

It wasn’t long ago that space tech felt locked behind sealed doors—governments, contractors, and corporations working in high-security labs, often in total isolation. But if you look closely today, something quite different is happening.

Open-source has quietly—and now increasingly—become a foundational piece in how modern space technologies are built.

At first glance, that sounds risky. Space is high-stakes. It’s expensive. It’s complex. Why would anyone trust shared, openly developed code or hardware designs to run in such an unforgiving environment?

But, as I’ve seen in our work at Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. in the United States, the question isn’t really why anymore. It’s how far can it go?

Open-Source: A Quick Reintroduction

To be clear, “open-source” doesn’t just mean free software. It means anyone can access, use, study, modify, and distribute it. It’s about transparency and collaboration—values that feel surprisingly at home in space, where no single entity can solve everything alone.

And it’s not limited to code. In space tech, open-source includes:

Flight software

Ground station software

Antenna designs

Satellite bus schematics

Tracking databases

RF protocol libraries

All of it developed, iterated, and often deployed by a distributed community of engineers, students, scientists, and just… curious minds.

Building on Shared Foundations

Let me be honest: no small satellite team builds from scratch. Not anymore.

In our PocketQube work with the HADES‑ICM mission, for instance, open-source played a role in how we prototyped signal processing, how we tested antenna tuning, and even how we logged beacon telemetry.

Libraries like GNU Radio, ground station tools like SatNOGS, and even parts of our onboard software owe their roots to open repositories. These aren’t untested hacks. They’re robust, widely used, and often stress-tested by thousands of people worldwide.

Instead of reinventing the wheel, we spent more time fine-tuning what matters most to us.

A Case Study: SatNOGS

SatNOGS is a community-built, open-source global network of satellite ground stations. It allows anyone—from university students to national agencies—to track, receive, and share satellite data.

Why does that matter?

Because small satellite operators, like us, often can’t afford a global ground station network. But with SatNOGS, we’ve received signal reports from Indonesia, Poland, Brazil—all using hardware built by volunteers and connected by open-source software.

It’s a win-win. We get telemetry. The community gets involved. Everyone learns.

Reducing Cost, Not Quality

There’s a myth that open-source means “cheap and cheerful.” But in space, that doesn’t hold up. Open-source projects are often maintained by incredibly skilled engineers. Some are volunteers. Others work at companies that support open development.

And because the code is visible, bugs get caught. Design flaws are discussed. There's accountability in the open.

We’ve used open-source PCB layouts, communication protocols, and thermal modeling tools. Not because we had no choice—but because they were good. Really good.

Innovation Through Collaboration

Open-source doesn’t just save time. It accelerates innovation.

Let’s say someone in Argentina develops a better way to manage low-power sleep cycles in a CubeSat. If they publish that method, someone in South Korea can adopt it. Then a team in Ghana builds on it to support their own Earth-observation satellite. That’s not a theory. It’s already happening.

At Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., we’ve learned that the best ideas often come from unexpected places. That’s why we contribute back when we can—code patches, feedback, bug reports. It’s not a favor. It’s how the whole system gets stronger.

A Place at the Global Table

This November, Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. will participate as a nominee at the 2025 Go Global Awards, hosted by the International Trade Council in London. It’s an event that draws together people from all over the world, in all kinds of sectors—not just to celebrate, but to connect.

And that’s exactly what open-source is about: connection. A distributed network of minds, solving problems together, across boundaries.

In some ways, it’s the same spirit, just applied differently. Whether you're sharing launchpads or Git repositories, the goal is the same—do more, together, than we could alone.

We’re proud to be part of that movement, and part of that global conversation.

It’s Not Perfect, But It’s Real

Open-source doesn’t eliminate all problems. There can be licensing confusion, maintenance gaps, fragmented forks. And sometimes, things just… break.

But in space, failure is expected. What matters is how you recover, how you learn, how you iterate.

Open-source offers a faster loop for that. A more transparent one. And maybe—just maybe—a more resilient one too.

Final Thoughts

Space used to be closed off. Secretive. Elitist, even.

Now, with open-source, it’s becoming participatory.

Anyone with a laptop, an idea, and some patience can contribute to space missions. That’s powerful. That’s democratizing. And it’s happening right now.

By Seda Hewitt

When disaster strikes, it doesn’t always look like it does in the news footage. Sometimes it’s slow—like floodwaters rising inch by inch. Other times it’s sudden—a blackout, a landslide, a wildfire overtaking a dry hillside in minutes. But one thing is nearly always true: communications fail before anything else does.

Cell towers collapse. Fiber gets severed. Even battery-powered radios go dark once the infrastructure behind them disappears.

And that’s where space quietly steps in.

Over the last few years, mobile satellite access—particularly via small, responsive satellites—has begun reshaping how emergency teams respond. It's not perfect. It's not fast everywhere yet. But it’s changing the baseline. It’s creating resilience where there was none.

Communications as the First Casualty

Let’s start with the obvious: without communication, coordination unravels.

During wildfires in the western United States, entire regions have gone dark for hours, even days. In remote Pacific islands hit by cyclones, emergency calls become impossible within minutes. And in earthquake zones, even knowing who’s alive—or where they are—can take precious days.

For first responders, aid workers, and government agencies, the absence of a basic signal slows everything down. It delays rescue. It fragments supply chains. It turns already fragile moments into full-blown chaos.

But increasingly, low-Earth orbit satellites are offering a workaround. Especially when paired with compact, mobile ground receivers.

Small Satellites, Big Reach

In many cases, we're not talking about large, traditional geostationary satellites. Those still play a role, yes. But newer SmallSats, like CubeSats and PocketQubes, offer a different kind of agility.

They're cheaper to launch. They orbit closer to Earth, which reduces signal lag. And with enough of them—working in constellations—they can offer frequent revisit times over disaster-prone areas.

What does that mean, practically?

Picture this: a regional health coordinator in a flood-affected village pulls out a ruggedized handheld device. No cell towers for 100 km. But with satellite access, they ping a message. A short one—just coordinates and status. The message travels upward, then down to a command center in another country. That loop might only take 3–5 minutes.

Not instant. But not a blackout either.

Making It Mobile

Mobility matters here. One of the biggest innovations isn’t just space-based—it’s how we access it.

Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc., based in the United States, has focused heavily on this idea: enabling lightweight, field-deployable devices to link directly with satellites in orbit. No trucks. No dish setups. Just a small piece of equipment, running on solar or battery, doing work where it’s needed most.

And this isn’t theoretical. In our HADES‑ICM mission, launched aboard a SpaceX Falcon 9, we tested real-time beacon transmission and remote configurability in-orbit. Those lessons are now shaping how small payloads can deliver usable comms infrastructure in future disaster-response kits.

Imagine sending up a shoebox-sized satellite specifically to cover a high-risk zone during hurricane season. Or having one that activates only when a seismic event is detected. This isn’t science fiction. It’s slowly becoming protocol.

Human Layers in a Technical System

All of this, though, still depends on people. Tools are great. But the real success of satellite-based disaster response lies in training, trust, and timing.

Take the Philippines, for instance—a country regularly battered by typhoons. Government responders now include satellite message relays in their drills. Local NGOs distribute simple terminals in rural villages. It’s not just about reacting; it’s about building communication literacy before disaster hits.

The more people are trained to use these systems, the more seamless they become under pressure.

A Global Conversation on Innovation

This kind of work doesn't happen in a vacuum. It’s part of a broader conversation about innovation, resilience, and cross-border collaboration.

That’s why our team at Interstellar Communication Holdings Inc. is honored to be a nominee for the 2025 Go Global Awards, held in London this November and hosted by the International Trade Council.

But it’s not just an awards show. It’s something bigger: a gathering of global businesses, each trying to solve hard problems in smarter ways. Disaster response is one of those hard problems. And mobile satellite access, though still evolving, is beginning to offer something meaningful.

An emergency connection. A window to the outside. A signal that someone’s there.

The Path Forward

We’re not claiming satellites will solve everything. They won’t.

Bandwidth remains limited. Cloud cover still affects optical sensors. And no system is immune to failure. But when terrestrial options collapse—as they so often do—satellite access becomes a lifeline. Quietly. Reliably. Invisibly.

That’s the role it’s stepping into now.