Sitting quietly in the heart of the New Mexico desert in the summer of 2014, Spaceport America (SA) housed little of the activity its supporters anticipated when opening its hangar doors in 2011. Despite $1 million in annual rent from Virgin Galactic, British billionaire Richard Branson's space tourism company and SA's anchor tenant, the spaceport was still heavily reliant on government funds. Flight delays and a crash on Halloween of 2014 that left one pilot dead and stalled Virgin Galactic's testing and development meant that the New Mexico Spaceport Authority (NMSA) was not receiving critical user fees to run spaceport operations. As a result, state and local taxpayers were bearing much of the cost of the underutilized spaceport, even after having invested $218 million from local and state funds. With the 2015 session of New Mexico's congress looming, the fate of the world's first "purpose-built" spaceport was in question.

B case to case 723011 Sitting quietly in the heart of the New Mexico desert in the summer of 2014, Spaceport America (SA) housed little of the activity its supporters anticipated when opening its hangar doors in 2011. Despite $1 million in annual rent from Virgin Galactic, British billionaire Richard Branson's space tourism company and SA's anchor tenant, the spaceport was still heavily reliant on government funds. Flight delays and a crash on Halloween of 2014 that left one pilot dead and stalled Virgin Galactic's testing and development meant that the New Mexico Spaceport Authority (NMSA) was not receiving critical user fees to run spaceport operations. As a result, state and local taxpayers were bearing much of the cost of the underutilized spaceport, even after having invested $218 million from local and state funds. With the 2015 session of New Mexico's congress looming, the fate of the world's first "purpose-built" spaceport was in question.

Planetary Resources, Inc. (PRI) had a bold, some said crazy, vision: to mine asteroids. One might have assumed that developing the right technology would be the greatest challenge facing PRI. But even if the fledgling company could develop and deploy the sophisticated imaging, prospecting, and communication capabilities required for mining asteroids, two additional obstacles meant success was not guaranteed. First, uncertainty remained over whether, and how, property rights to resources mined in space would be enforced. PRI's leadership's challenge was to anticipate, and perhaps shape, how this uncertainty would be resolved. Making that balancing act more difficult was a second factor: a complex and underfunded U.S. regulatory infrastructure that threatened to slow PRI's progress and escalate costs.

Three years after launching his brick-and-mortar store, X Fire Paintball and Airsoft, Steve Herbert Sr. and his sons began selling products on Amazon.com's third-party Marketplace and online sales expanded rapidly. Over time, X Fire noticed that products of which it had once been the only seller were now being sold by Amazon straight from X Fire's suppliers, effectively cutting X Fire out. Amazon was also ignoring the minimum advertised price (MAP) set by manufacturers. How should X Fire defend itself? Now Amazon representatives were approaching X Fire to encourage them to sell on Amazon's smaller but growing Canadian Marketplace. How should X Fire respond to this opportunity?

Three years after launching his brick-and-mortar store, X Fire Paintball and Airsoft, Steve Herbert Sr. and his sons began selling products on Amazon.com's third-party Marketplace and online sales expanded rapidly. Over time, X Fire noticed that products of which it had once been the only seller were now being sold by Amazon straight from X Fire's suppliers, effectively cutting X Fire out. Amazon was also ignoring the minimum advertised price (MAP) set by manufacturers. How should X Fire defend itself? Now Amazon representatives were approaching X Fire to encourage them to sell on Amazon's smaller but growing Canadian Marketplace. How should X Fire respond to this opportunity?

Fasten, a new ridesharing start-up in Boston, entered the scene in September 2015 hoping its unique vision of transparency for both driver and passenger and strategy to keep riders' fares low and charge drivers a flat $0.99 fee per ride as opposed to the 20-30% commission charged by its competition, would help differentiate it and gain the necessary traction in an ostensibly concentrated market between Uber and Lyft. Despite both Uber's and Lyft's valuations skyrocketing to $50 billion and $5.5 billion respectively, heavy investment in top notch Silicon Valley software developers and technological innovations such as autonomous vehicles, aggressive marketing strategies, and cutthroat poaching practices-all of which forced number three competitor Sidecar out by January 2016-Fasten's leadership felt confident their 17 years of experience in Russia's car services industry positioned them well to truly understand their customers and ultimately expand to other major cities. But with limited budgets to acquire talented and expensive platform developers, Fasten needed to ensure its core IT services could compete, and that its word-of-mouth approach to attract the essential network of drivers and passengers could get it the vital foothold it would need to grow.

An engineer and technology entrepreneur, Nobu Okada, had turned a mid-life crisis into a bold-some would say quixotic-quest to prevent a tragedy of the commons at the global scale. Namely, Okada believed the accumulation of debris in near-Earth orbital space posed a serious threat to a vast array of critical satellites and, thereby, both the modern information economy and the future of human activities in space. Frustrated at what he saw as far too slow a reaction to the threat among major space powers, Okada planned to develop a spacecraft capable of adhering to, and redirecting, that debris. By lowering the costs of debris removal, he hoped to make it routine, even in the absence of government action. As of 2016 his company, Astroscale, which had secured private funding years earlier, was nearing the first demonstration of the technology. This case is intended to help students understand how a tragedy of the commons develops in a specific, nearly textbook example. As important, this case is about potential solutions to the tragedy of the commons when the market and policy both fall short.

Jeff Bezos, six years after starting a revolution in retailing with Amazon.com, turned his life-long passion for space into a start-up, Blue Origin. Blue (as it was called) was a part of the New Space industry, a collection of startup aerospace engineering companies that were intent on disrupting the American space sector with new technologies, management approaches, and competitive pressure. NASA hoped to leverage New Space to outsource its near-Earth activities and refocus its own efforts on deep space exploration. One of the agency's main mechanisms for this shift of activities was its Commercial Crew Development program (CCDev), a multi-phase initiative launched in 2009. Blue participated in the first two rounds of CCDev, and by all accounts these had been win-win experiences for it and NASA. The decision point of the case is whether Blue should participate in the third, much larger, and more complex, stage of CCDev. The trade-off facing Blue's leaders was between the legitimacy, expertise, and funding provided by working with NASA and the autonomy, efficiency, and independence threatened by working with NASA. How would Blue, with its clear respect for NASA but its desire (and financial ability) to set its own priorities, make this decision?