Interstellar Travel Opportunities.

As you may have heard, stars move. The only reason we cannot see this is because they are so far away, and it takes so long to make a difference. Currently, the closest star to us is Proxima Centauri, which is part of the Alpha Centauri grouping. It is 4.2 light years away, and if you think that is attractive for an interstellar voyage, just wait a bit. In 28,700 years it will be a whole light year closer. That is a clear saving in travelling time, especially if you do not travel close to light speed.

However, there have been closer encounters. Sholz’s star, which is a binary; a squib of a red dwarf plus a brown dwarf, came within 0.82 light years 78,000 years ago. Our stone age ancestors would probably have been unaware of it, because it is so dim that even when that close it was still a hundred times too dim to be seen by the naked eye. There is one possible exception to that: occasionally red dwarfs periodically emit extremely bright flares, so maybe they would see a star appear from nowhere, then gradually disappear. Such an event might go down in their stories, particularly if something dramatic happened. There is one further possible downside for our ancestors: although it is unclear whether such a squib of a star was big enough, it might have exerted a gravitational effect on the Oort cloud, thus generating a flux of comets coming inwards. That might have been the dramatic event.

That star was too small to do anything to disrupt our solar system, but it is possible that much closer encounters in other solar systems could cause all sorts of chaos, including stealing a planet, or having one stolen. They could certainly disrupt a solar system, and it is possible that some of the so-called star-burning giants were formed in the expected places and were dislodged inwards by such a star. That happens when the dislodged entity has a very elliptical orbit that takes it closer to the star where tidal effects with the star circularise it. That did not happen in our solar system. Of course, it does not take a passing star to do that; if the planets get too big and too close their gravity can do it.

It is possible that a modestly close encounter with a star did have an effect on the outer Kuiper Belt, where objects like Eris seem to be obvious Kuiper Belt Objects, but they are rather far out and have very elliptical orbits. It would be expected that would arise from one or more significant gravitational interactions.

The question then is, if a star passed closely should people take advantage and colonise the new system? Alternatively, would life forms there have the same idea if they were technically advanced? Since if you had the technology to do this, presumably you would also have the technology to know what was there. It is not as if you do not get warning. For example, if you are around in 1.4 million years, Gliese 710 will pass within 10,000 AU of the sun, well within the so-called Oort Cloud. Gliese 710 is about 60% the mass of the sun, which means its gravity could really stir up the comets in the Oort cloud, and our star will do exactly the same for the corresponding cloud of comets in their system. In a really close encounter it is not within the bounds of possibility that planetary bodies could be exchanged. If they were, the exchange would almost certainly lead to a very elliptical orbit, and probably at a great distance. You may have heard of the possibility of a “Planet 9” that is at a considerable distance but with an elliptical orbit has caused highly elliptical orbits in some trans Neptunian objects. Either the planet, if it exists at all, or the elliptical nature of the orbits of bodies like Sedna, could well have arisen from a previous close stellar encounter.

As far as I know, we have not detected planets around this star. That does not mean there are not any because if we do not lie on the equatorial plane of that star we would not see much from eclipsing observations (and remember Kepler only looks at a very small section of the sky, and Gliese 710 is not in the original area examined) and at that distance, any astronomer with our technology there would not see us. Which raises the question, if there were planets there, would we want to swap systems? If you accept the mechanism of how planets form in my ebook “Planetary Formation and Biogenesis”, and if the rates of accretion, after adjusting for stellar mass for both were the same, then any rocky planet in the habitable zone is likely to be the Mars equivalent. It would be much warmer and it may well be much bigger than our Mars, but it would not have plate tectonics because its composition would not permit eclogite to form, which is necessary for pull subduction. With that knowledge, would you go?

Unexpected Astronomical Discoveries.

This week, three unexpected astronomical discoveries. The first relates to white dwarfs. A star like our sun is argued to eventually run out of hydrogen, at which point its core collapses somewhat and it starts to burn helium, which it converts to carbon and oxygen, and gives off a lot more energy. This is a much more energetic process than burning hydrogen to helium, so although the core contracts, the star itself expands and becomes a red giant. When it runs out of that, it has two choices. If it is big enough, the core contracts further and it burns carbon and oxygen, rather rapidly, and we get a supernova. If it does not have enough mass, it tends to shed its outer matter and the rest collapses to a white dwarf, which glows mainly due to residual heat. It is extremely dense, and if it had the mass of the sun, it would have a volume roughly that of Earth.

Because it does not run fusion reactions, it cannot generate heat, so it will gradually cool, getting dimmer and dimmer, until eventually it becomes a black dwarf. It gets old and it dies. Or at least that was the theory up until very recently. Notice anything wrong with what I have written above?

The key is “runs out”. The problem is that all these fusion reactions occur in the core, but what is going on outside. It takes light formed in the core about 100,000 years to get to the surface. Strictly speaking, that is calculated because nobody has gone to the core of a star to measure it, but the point is made. It takes that long because it keeps running into atoms on the way out, getting absorbed and re-emitted. But if light runs into that many obstacles getting out, why do you think all the hydrogen would work its way to the core? Hydrogen is light, and it would prefer to stay right where it is. So even when a star goes supernova, there is still hydrogen in it. Similarly, when a red giant sheds outer matter and collapses, it does not necessarily shed all its hydrogen.

The relevance? The Hubble space telescope has made another discovery, namely that it has found white dwarfs burning hydrogen on their surfaces. A slightly different version of “forever young”. They need not run out at all because interstellar space, and even intergalactic space, still has vast masses of hydrogen that, while thinly dispersed, can still be gravitationally acquired. The surface of the dwarf, having such mass and so little size, will have an intense gravity to make up for the lack of exterior pressure. It would be interesting to know if they could determine the mechanism of the fusion. I would suspect it mainly involves the CNO cycle. What happens here is that protons (hydrogen nuclei) in sequence enter a nucleus that starts out as ordinary carbon 12 to make the element with one additional proton, which then decays to produce a gamma photon, and sometimes a positron and a neutrino until it gets to nitrogen 15 (having been in oxygen 15) after which if it absorbs a proton it spits out helium 4 and returns to carbon 12. The gamma spectrum (if it is there) should give us a clue.

The second is the discovery of a new Atira asteroid, which orbits the sun every 115 days and has a semi-major axis of 0.46 A.U. The only known object in the solar system with a smaller semimajor axis is Mercury, which orbits the sun in 89 days. Another peculiarity of its orbit is that it can only be seen when it is away from the line of the sun, and as it happens, these times are very difficult to see it from the Northern Hemisphere. It would be interesting to know its composition. Standard theory has it that all the asteroids we see have been dislodged from the asteroid belt, because the planets would have cleaned out any such bodies that were there from the time of the accretion disk. And, of course, we can show that many asteroids were so dislodged, but many does not mean all. The question then is, how reliable is that proposed cleanout? I suspect, not very. The idea is that numerous collisions would give the asteroids an eccentricity that would lead them to eventually collide with a planet, so the fact they are there means they have to be resupplied, and the asteroid belt is the only source. However, I see no reason why some could not have avoided this fate. In my ebook “Planetary Formation and Biogenesis” I argue that the two possibilities would have clear compositional differences, hence my interest. Of course, getting compositional information is easier said than done.

The third “discovery” is awkward. Two posts ago I wrote how the question of the nature of dark energy might not be a question because it may not exist. Well, no sooner had I posted, than someone came up with a claim for a second type of dark energy. The problem is, if the standard model is correct, the Universe should be expanding 5 – 10% faster than it appears to be doing. (Now, some would say that indicates the standard model is not quite right, but that is apparently not an option when we can add in a new type of “dark energy”.) This only applied for the first 300 million years or so, and if true, the Universe has suddenly got younger. While it is usually thought to be 13.8 billion years old, this model has it at 12.4 billion years old. So while the model has “invented” a new dark energy, it has also lost 1.4 billion years in age. I tend to be suspicious of this, especially when even the proposers are not confident of their findings. I shall try to keep you posted.

The Universe is Shrinking

Dark energy is one of the mysteries of modern science. It is supposed to amount to about 68% of the Universe, yet we have no idea what it is. Its discovery led to Nobel prizes, yet it is now considered possible that it does not even exist. To add or subtract 68% of the Universe seems a little excessive.

One of the early papers (Astrophys. J., 517, pp565-586) supported the concept. What they did was to assume type 1A supernovae always gave out the same light so by measuring the intensity of that light and comparing it with the red shift of the light, which indicates how fast it is going away, they could assess whether the rate of expansion of the universe was even over time. The standard theory at the time was that it was, and it was expanding at a rate given by the Hubble constant (named after Edwin Hubble, who first proposed this). What they did was to examine 42 type 1a supernovae with red shifts between 0.18 and 0.83, and compared their results on a graph with what they expected from the line drawn using the Hubble constant, which is what you expect with zero acceleration, i.e. uniform expansion. Their results at a distance were uniformly above the line, and while there were significant error bars, because instruments were being operated at their extremes, the result looked unambiguous. The far distant ones were going away faster than expected from the nearer ones, and that could only arise if the rate of expansion were accelerating.

For me, there was one fly in the ointment, so to speak. The value of the Hubble constant they used was 63 km/s/Mpc. The modern value is more like 68 or 72; there are two values, and they depend on how you measure them, but both are somewhat larger than this. Now it follows that if you have the speed wrong when you predict how far it travelled, it follows that the further away it is, the bigger the error, which means you think it has speeded up.

Over the last few years there have been questions as to exactly how accurate this determination of acceleration really is. There has been a question (arXiv:1912.04903) that the luminosity of these has evolved as the Universe ages, which has the effect that measuring the distance this way leads to overestimation of the distance. Different work (Milne et al. 2015.  Astrophys. J. 803: 20) showed that there are at least two classes of 1A supernovae, blue and red, and they have different ejecta velocities, and if the usual techniques are used the light intensity of the red ones will be underestimated, which makes them seem further away than they are.

My personal view is there could be a further problem. The type 1A occurs when a large star comes close to another star and begins stripping it of its mass until it gets big enough to ignite the supernova. That is why they are believed to have the same brightness: they ignite their explosion at the same mass so there are the same conditions, so there should be the same brightness. However, this is not necessarily the case because the outer layer, which generates the light we see, comes from the non-exploding star, and will absorb and re-emit energy from the explosion. Hydrogen and helium are poor radiators, but they will absorb energy. Nevertheless, the brightest light might be expected to come from the heavier elements, and the amount of them increases as the Universe ages and atoms are recycled. That too might lead to the appearance that the more distant ones are further away than expected, which in turn suggests the Universe is accelerating its expansion when it isn’t.

Now, to throw the spanner further into the works, Subir Sarkar has added his voice. He is unusual in that he is both an experimentalist and a theoretician, and he has noted that the 1A supernovae, while taken to be “standard candles”, do not all emit the same amount of light, and according to Sarkar, they vary by up to a factor of ten. Further, previously the fundamental data was not available, but in 1915 it became public. He did a statistical analysis and found that the data supported a cosmic acceleration but only with a statistical significance of three standard deviations, which, according to him, “is not worth getting out of bed for”.

There is a further problem. Apparently the Milky Way is heading off in some direction at 600 km/s, and this rather peculiar flow extends out to about a billion light years, and unfortunately most of the supernovae studied so far are in this region. This drops the statistical significance for cosmic expansion to two standard deviations. He then accuses the previous supporters of this cosmic expansion as confirmation bias: the initial workers chose an unfortunate direction to examine, but the subsequent ones “looked under the same lamppost”.

So, a little under 70% of what some claim is out there might not be. That is ugly. Worse, about 27% is supposed to be dark matter, and suppose that did not exist either, and the only reason we think it is there is because our understanding of gravity is wrong on a large scale? The Universe now shrinks to about 5% of what it was. That must be something of a record for the size of a loss.

Asteroid (16) Psyche – Again! Or Riches Evaporate, Again

Thanks to my latest novel “Spoliation”, I have had to take an interest in asteroid mining. I discussed this in a previous post (https://ianmillerblog.wordpress.com/2020/10/28/asteroid-mining/) in which I mentioned the asteroid (16) Psyche. As I wrote, there were statements saying the asteroid had almost unlimited mineral resources. Initially, it was estimated to have a density (g/cc) of about 7, which would make it more or less solid iron. It should be noted this might well be a consequence of extreme confirmation bias. The standard theory has it that certain asteroids differentiated and had iron cores, then collided and the rock was shattered off, leaving the iron cores. Iron meteorites are allegedly the result of collisions between such cores. If so, it has been estimated there have to be about 75 iron cores floating around out there, and since Psyche had a density so close to that of iron (about 7.87) it must be essentially solid iron. As I wrote in that post, “other papers have published values as low as 1.4 g/cm cubed, and the average value is about 3.5 g/cm cubed”. The latest value is 3.78 + 0.34.

These varied numbers show how difficult it is to make these observations. Density is mass per volume. We determine the volume by considering the size and we can measure the “diameter”, but the target is a very long way away, it is small, so it is difficult to get an accurate “diameter”. The next point is it is not a true sphere, so there are extra “bits” of volume with hills, or “bits missing” with craters. Further, the volume depends on a diameter cubed, so if you make a ten percent error in the “diameter” you have a 30% error overall. The mass has to be estimated from its gravitational effects on something else. That means you have to measure the distance to the asteroid, the distance to the other asteroid, and determine the difference from expected as they pass each other. This difference may be quite tiny. Astronomers are working at the very limit of their equipment.

A quick pause for some silicate chemistry. Apart from granitic/felsic rocks, which are aluminosilicates, most silicates come in two classes of general formula: A – olivines X2SiO4 or B – pyroxenes XSiO3, where X is some mix of divalent metals, usually mainly magnesium or iron (hence their name, mafic, the iron being ferrous). However, calcium is often present. Basically, these elements are the most common metals in the output of a supernova, with magnesium being the most. For olivines, if X is only magnesium, the density for A (forsterite) is 3.27 and for B (enstatite) 3.2. If X is only iron, the density for A (fayalite) is 4.39 and for B (ferrosilite) 4.00. Now we come to further confirmation bias: to maintain the iron content of Psyche, the density is compared to enstatite chondrites, and the difference made up with iron. Another way to maintain the concept of “free iron” is the proposition that the asteroid is made of “porous metal”. How do you make that? A porous rock, like pumice, is made by a volcano spitting out magma with water dissolved in it, and as the pressure drops the water turns to steam. However, you do not get any volatile to dissolve in molten iron.

Another reason to support the iron concept was that the reflectance spectrum was “essentially featureless”. The required features come from specific vibrations, and a metal does not have any. Neither does a rough surface that scatters light. The radar albedo (how bright it is with reflected light) is 0.34, which implies a surface density of 3.5, which is argued to indicate either metal with 50% porosity, or solid silicates (rock). It also means no core is predicted. The “featureless spectrum” was claimed to have an absorption at 3 μm, indicating hydroxyl, which indicates silicate. There is also a signal corresponding to an orthopyroxene. The emissivity indicates a metal content greater than 20% at the surface, but if this were metal, there should be a polarised emission, and that is completely absent. At this point, we should look more closely at what “metal” means. In many cases, while it is used to convey what we would consider as a metal, the actual use includes chemical compounds with a  metallic element. The iron levels may be as iron sulphide, the oxide, or, as what I believe the answer is, the silicate. I think we are looking at the iron content of average rock. Fortune does not await us there.

In short, the evidence is somewhat contradictory, in part because we are using spectroscopy at the limits of its usefulness. NASA intends to send a mission to evaluate the asteroid and we should wait for that data.

But what about iron cored asteroids? We know there are metallic iron meteorites so where did they come from? In my ebook “Planetary Formation and Biogenesis”, I note that the iron meteorites, from isotope dating, are amongst the oldest objects in the solar system, so I argue they were made before the planets, and there were a large number of them, most of which ended up in planetary cores. The meteorites we see, if that is correct, never got accreted, and finally struck a major body for the first time.

Could Aliens Know We Are Here?

While an alien could not see us without coming here, why pick here as opposed to all the other stars? We see exoplanets and speculate on whether they could hold life, but how many exoplanets could see our planet, if they held life with technology like ours or a little better? When I wrote the first edition of my ebook “Planetary Formation and Biogenesis” I listed a few techniques to find planets. Then, the most had been found through detecting the wobble of stars through the frequency changes of their line spectra to which a Doppler shift was added. The wobble is caused by the gravity of the planets. Earth would be very difficult to see that way because it is too small. This works best with very large planets very close to stars.

While there are several methods for discovering planets that work occasionally, one is particularly productive, and that is to measure the light intensity coming from the star. If a planet crosses our line of sight, the light dims. Maybe not a lot, but it dims. If you have seen an eclipse of the sun you will get the idea, but if you have seen a transit of Venus or of Mercury you will know the effect is not strong. This is very geometry specific because you have to be able to draw a straight line between your eye, the planet and part of the star and the further the planet is from the star, the smaller the necessary angle. To give an idea of the problem, our planetary system was created more or less on the equatorial plane of the accretion disk that formed the sun, so we should at least see transits of our inner planets, right? Well, not exactly because the various orbits do not lie on one plane. My phrase “more or less” indicates the problem – we have to be exactly edge-on to the plane unless the planet is really close to the star, when geometry lends a hand because the star is so big that something small crossing in front can be seen from wider angles.

Nevertheless, the Kepler telescope has seen many such exoplanets. Interestingly, the Kepler telescope, besides finding a number of stars with multiple planets close to the star has also found a number of stars with only one planet at a good distance from the star. That does not mean there are no other planets; it may mean nothing more than that one is accidentally the only one whose orbital plane lies on our line of sight. The others may, like Venus, be on slightly different planes. When I wrote that ebook, it was obvious that suitable stars were not that common, and since we were looking at stars one at a time over an extended period, not many planets would be discovered. The Kepler telescope changed that because when it came into operation, it could view hundreds of thousands of stars simultaneously.

All of which raises the interesting question, how many aliens, if they had good astronomical techniques, could see us by this method, assuming they looked at our sun? Should we try to remain hidden or not? Can we, if we so desired?

In a recent paper from Nature (594, pp505 – 507 2021) it appears that 1,715 stars within 100 parsecs of the sun (i.e. our “nearest neighbours”) would have been in a position to spot us over the last 5,000 years, while an additional 319 stars will have the opportunity over the next 5,000 years. Stars might look as if they are fixed in position, but actually they are speedily moving, and not all in the same direction. 

Among this set of stars are seven known to have exoplanets, including Ross 128, which could have seen us in the past but no longer, and Teegarden’s star and Trappist-1, which will start to have the opportunity in 29 years and 1642 years respectively. Most of these are Red Dwarfs, and if you accept my analysis in my ebook, then they will not have technological life. The reason is the planets with composition suitable to generate biogenesis will be too close to the star so will be far too hot, and yet probably receive insufficient higher frequency light to drive anything like photosynthesis.

Currently, an Earth transit could be seen from 1402 stars, and this includes 128 G-type stars, like our sun. There are 73 K stars, which may also be suitable to house life. There are also 63 F-type stars. These stars are larger than the sun, from 1.07 to 1.4 times the size, and are much hotter than the sun. Accordingly, they turn out more UV, which might be problematical for life, although the smaller ones may be suitable and the Earth-equivalent planet will be a lot further from the star. However, they are also shorter-lived, so the bigger ones may not have had time. About 2/3 of these stars are in a more restricted transit zone, and could, from geometry, observe an Earth transit for ten hours. So there are a number of stars from which we cannot hide. Ten hours would give a dedicated astronomer with the correct equipment plenty of time to work out we have oxygen and an ozone layer, and that means life must be here.

Another option is to record our radio waves. We have been sending them out for about 100 years, and about 75 of our 1402 stars identified above are within that distance that could give visual confirmation via observing a transit. We cannot hide. However, that does not mean any of those stars could do anything about it. Even if planets around them have life, that does not mean it is technological, and even if it were, that does not mean they can travel through interstellar space. After all, we cannot. Nevertheless, it is an interesting matter to speculate about.

Why Plate Tectonics?

How did plate tectonics start? Why has Earth got them and none of the rocky planets have, at least as far as we know? In my ebook “Planetary Formation and Biogenesis” my explanation as to one of the reasons for why plate tectonics are absent on Mars is that the Martian basaltic mantle appears to have about 17% iron oxide whle Earth has 7 – 11%. This means it cannot make eclogite whereas Earth’s basalt can. Eclogite is a particularly dense silicate and it is only made under serious pressure. 

To see the significance, we have to ask ourselves how plate tectonics works. The core generates hot spots, and hotter mantle material rises and has to push aside other rock, and we get what we call seafloor spreading, although it does not have to be underwater. The African rift valley is an example, in this case a relatively new example where the African plate is dividing, and eventually will have sea between Somalia and the Nubian zone. Similarly, the Icelandic volcanoes are due to “seafloor spreading”. Thus matter coming up pushes the surface plates aside, but then what? On Mars, the cold basalt has nowhere to go so it forms what is called a “stagnant lid”, and heat can only escape through volcanism. On Mars, this resulted in quite significant volcanism about three and a half billion years ago, then this more or less stopped, although not as much as some think because there is evidence of volcanic eruptions around Elysium within the last two million years. The net result is the “lid” gradually gets thicker, and stronger, which means the heat loss of the Martian mantle is actually much less than that of Earth.

On Earth, what happens is that as the basaltic plates get pushed aside, one goes under another, and this is where then eclogite becomes relevant. As the plate goes down, the increased pressure causes the basalt to form eclogite, and because it is denser than its surroundings, gravity makes it go deeper. It is this pull subduction that keeps plate tectonics going.

So, what about Venus? The usual answer is that Venus had a stagnant lid, but at certain intervals the internal heat is so great there is a general overturn and there is a general resurfacing. However, maybe that is not exactly correct. Our problem with Venus is we cannot see the surface thanks to the clouds. The best we can manage is through radar, and recent (June, 2021) information has provided some surprises (Byrne, et al.,   https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.2025919118).  Basically, what was found was evidence that many of the lowlands had broken into crustal blocks and these blocks are moving relative to each other, in the same way as pack ice moves. The cause would be mantle convection that stresses the crust. The Venusian crust has many landforms, including thin belts where crust has been pushed together to form ridges, or pulled apart to form troughs. However, these ones tend to encompass low-lying regions that are not deformed, but rather appear to be individual blocks that shift, rotate and slide past each other. The authors suggest this what Earth was like before plate tectonics got going.

As to why they started here and not there has no obvious answer. The fact that Earth rotates far more quickly will generate much stronger Coriolis forces. It may be that the absence of water on Venus removes a potential lubricant, but that seems unlikely if blocks of crust are moving. My personal view is that one key point is it needs something to force the crust downwards. Eclogite may pull it down, but something has to push the basalt down to force it to make eclogite. My guess here is that Earth has one thing the other rocky planets do not have: granitic continents. Granite floats on basalt, so if a basaltic mass was pushed against a significant granitic mass, the granite would slide over the top and its weight would push the basalt down. When it made eclogite, the denser basalt would continue its downward motion, pulling a plate with it. Is that right? Who knows, but at least it looks plausible to me.

Where to Look for Alien Life?

One intriguing question is what is the probability of life elsewhere in the Universe? In my ebook, “Planetary Formation and Biogenesis” I argue that if you need the sort of chemistry I outline to form the appropriate precursors, then to get the appropriate planet in the habitable zone your best bet is to have a G-type or heavy K-type star. Our sun is a G-type. While that eliminates most stars such as red dwarfs, there are still plenty of possible candidates and on that criterion alone the universe should be full of life, albeit possibly well spread out, and there may be other issues. Thus, of the close stars to Earth, Alpha Centauri has two of the right stars, but being a double star, we don’t know whether it might have spat out its planets when it was getting rid of giants, as the two stars come as close as Saturn is to our sun. Epsilon Eridani and Tau Ceti are K-type, but it is not known whether the first has rocky planets, and further it is only about 900 million years old so any life would be extremely primitive. Tau Ceti has claims to about 8 planets, but only four have been confirmed, and for two of these, one gets about 1.7 times Earth’s light (Venus get about 1.9 times as much) while the other gets about 29%. They are also “super Earths”. Interestingly, if you apply the relationship I had in my ebook, the planet that gets the most light, is the more likely to be similar geologically to Earth (apart from its size) and is far more likely than Venus to have accreted plenty of water, so just maybe it is possible.

So where do we look for suitable planets? Very specifically how probable are rocky planets? One approach to address this came from Nibauer et al. (Astrophysical Journal, 906: 116, 2021). What they did was to look at the element concentration of stars and picked on 5 elements for which he had data. He then focused on the so-called refractory elements, i.e., those that make rocks, and by means of statistics he separated the stars into two groups: the “regular” stars, which have the proportion of refractory elements expected from the nebular clouds, or a “depleted” category, where the concentrations are less than expected. Our sun is in the “depleted” category, and oddly enough, only between 10 – 30% are “regular”. The concept here is the stars are depleted because these elements have been taken away to make rocky planets. Of course, there may be questions about the actual analysis of the data and the model, but if the data holds up, this might be indicative that rocky planets can form, at least around single stars. 

One of the puzzles of planetary formation is exemplified by Tau Ceti. The planet is actually rather short of the heavy elements that make up planets, yet it has so many planets that are so much bigger than Earth. How can this be? My answer in my ebook is that there are three stages of the accretion disk: the first when the star is busily accreting and there are huge inflows of matter; the second a transition when supply of matter declines, and a third period when stellar accretion slows by about four orders of magnitude. At the end of this third period, the star creates huge solar winds that clear out the accretion disk of gas and dust. However, in this third stage, planets continue accreting. This third stage can last from less than 1 million years to up to maybe forty. So, planets starting the same way will end up in a variety of sizes depending on how long the star takes to remove accretable material. The evidence is that our sun spat out its accretion disk very early, so we have smaller than average planets.

So, would the regular stars not have planets? No. If they formed giants, there would be no real selective depletion of specific elements, and a general depletion would register as the star not having as many in the first place. The amount of elements heavier than helium is called metallicity by astronomers, and this can vary by a factor of at least 40, and probably more. There may even be some first-generation stars out there with no heavy elements. It would be possible for a star to have giant planets but show no significant depletion of refractory elements. So while Nibauer’s analysis is interesting, and even encouraging, it does not really eliminate more than a minority of the stars. If you are on a voyage of discovery, it remains something of a guess which stars are of particular interest.

Interpreting Observations

The ancients, with a few exceptions, thought the Earth was the centre of the Universe and everything rotated around it, thus giving day and night. Contrary to what many people think, this was not simply stupid; they reasoned that it could not be rotating. An obvious experiment that Aristotle performed was to throw a stone high into the air so that it reached its maximum height directly above. When it dropped, it landed directly underneath it and its path was vertical to the horizontal. Aristotle recognised that up at that height and dropped, if the Earth was rotating the angular momentum from the height should carry it eastwards, but it did not. Aristotle was a clever reasoner, but he was a poor experimenter. He also failed to consider consequences of some of his other reasoning. Thus he knew that the Earth was a sphere, and he knew the size of it and thanks to Eratosthenes this was a fairly accurate value. He had reasoned correctly why that was, which was that matter fell towards the centre. Accordingly, he should also have realised his stone should also fall slightly to the south. (He lived in Greece; if he lived here it would move slightly northwards.) When he failed to notice that he should have realized his technique was insufficiently accurate. What he failed to do was to put numbers onto his reasoning, and this is an error in reasoning we see all the time these days from politicians. As an aside, this is a difficult experiment to do. If you don’t believe me, try it. Exactly where is the point vertically below your drop point? You must not find it by dropping a stone!

He also realised that Earth could not orbit the sun, and there was plenty of evidence to show that it could not. First, there was the background. Put a stick in the ground and walk around it. What you see is the background moves and moves more the bigger the circle radius, and smaller the further away the object is. When Aristarchus proposed the heliocentric theory all he could do was make the rather unconvincing bleat that the stars in the background must be an enormous distance away. As it happens, they are. This illustrates another problem with reasoning – if you assume a statement in the reasoning chain, the value of the reasoning is only as good as the truth of the assumption. A further example was that Aristotle reasoned that if the earth was rotating or orbiting the sun, because air rises, the Universe must be full of air, and therefore we should be afflicted by persistent easterly winds. It is interesting to note that had he lived in the trade wind zone he might have come to the correct conclusion for entirely the wrong reason.

But if he did he would have a further problem because he had shown that Earth could not orbit the sun through another line of reasoning. As was “well known”, heavy things fall faster than light things, and orbiting involves an acceleration towards the centre. Therefore there should be a stream of light things hurling off into space. There isn’t, therefore Earth does not move. Further, you could see the tail of comets. They were moving, which proves the reasoning. Of course it doesn’t because the tail always goes away from the sun, and not behind the motion at least half the time. This was a simple thing to check and it was possible to carry out this checking far more easily than the other failed assumptions. Unfortunately, who bothers to check things that are “well known”? This shows a further aspect: a true proposition has everything that is relevant to it in accord with it. This is the basis of Popper’s falsification concept.

One of the hold-ups involved a rather unusual aspect. If you watch a planet, say Mars, it seems to travel across the background, then slow down, then turn around and go the other way, then eventually return to its previous path. Claudius Ptolemy explained this in terms of epicycles, but it is easily understood in term of both going around the sun provided the outer one is going slower. That is obvious because while Earth takes a year to complete an orbit, it takes Mars over two years to complete a cycle. So we had two theories that both give the correct answer, but one has two assignable constants to explain each observation, while the other relies on dynamical relationships that at the time were not understood. This shows another reasoning flaw: you should not reject a proposition simply because you are ignorant of how it could work.I went into a lot more detail of this in my ebook “Athene’s Prophecy”, where for perfectly good plot reasons a young Roman was ordered to prove Aristotle wrong. The key to settling the argument (as explained in more detail in the following novel, “Legatus Legionis”) is to prove the Earth moves. We can do this with the tides. The part closest to the external source of gravity has the water fall sideways a little towards it; the part furthest has more centrifugal force so it is trying to throw the water away. They may not have understood the mechanics of that, but they did know about the sling. Aristotle could not detect this because the tides where he lived are miniscule but in my ebook I had my Roman with the British invasion and hence had to study the tides to know when to sail. There you can get quite massive tides. If you simply assume the tide is cause by the Moon pulling the water towards it and Earth is stationary there would be only one tide per day; the fact that there are two is conclusive, even if you do not properly understand the mechanics.

Venus with a Watery Past?

In a recent edition of Science magazine (372, p1136-7) there is an outline of two NASA probes to determine whether Venus had water. One argument is that Venus and Earth formed from the same material, so they should have started off very much the same, in which case Venus should have had about the same amount of water as Earth. That logic is false because it omits the issue of how planets get water. However, it argued that Venus would have had a serious climatic difference. A computer model showed that when planets rotate very slowly the near absence of a Coriolis force would mean that winds would flow uniformly from equator to pole. On Earth, the Coriolis effect leads to the lower atmosphere air splitting into three  cells on each side of the equator: tropical, subtropical and polar circulations. Venus would have had a more uniform wind pattern.

A further model then argued that massive water clouds would form, blocking half the sunlight, then “in the perpetual twilight, liquid water could have survived for billions of years.”  Since Venus gets about twice the light intensity as Earth does, Venusian “perpetual twilight” would be a good sunny day here. The next part of the argument was that since water is considered to lubricate plates, the then Venus could have had plate tectonics. Thus NASA has a mission to map the surface in much greater detail. That, of course, is a legitimate mission irrespective of the issue of water.

A second aim of these missions is to search for reflectance spectra consistent with granite. Granite is thought to be accompanied by water, although that correlation could be suspect because it is based on Earth, the only planet where granite is known.

So what happened to the “vast oceans”? Their argument is that massive volcanism liberate huge amounts of CO2 into the atmosphere “causing a runaway greenhouse effect that boiled the planet dry.” Ultraviolet light now broke down the water, which would lead to the production of hydrogen, which gets lost to space. This is the conventional explanation for the very high ratio of deuterium to hydrogen in the atmosphere. The concept is the water with deuterium is heavier, and has a slightly higher boiling point, so it would be the least “boiled off”. The effect is real but it is a very small one, which is why a lot of water has to be postulated. The problem with this explanation is that while hydrogen easily gets lost to space there should be massive amounts of oxygen retained. Where is it? Their answer: the oxygen would be “purged” by more ash. No mention of how.

In my ebook “Planetary Formation and Biogenesis” I proposed that Venus probably never had any liquid water on its surface. The rocky planets accreted their water by binding to silicates, and in doing so helped cement aggregate together and get the planet growing. Earth accreted at a place that was hot enough during stellar accretion to form calcium aluminosilicates that make very good cements and would have absorbed their water from the gas disk. Mars got less water because the material that formed Mars had been too cool to separate out aluminosilicates so it had to settle for simple calcium silicate, which does not bind anywhere near as much water. Venus probably had the same aluminosilicates as Earth, but being closer to the star meant it was hotter and less water bonded, and consequently less aluminosilicates.

What about the deuterium enhancement? Surely that is evidence of a lot of water? Not necessarily. How did the gases accrete? My argument is they would accrete as solids such as carbides, nitrides, etc. and the gases would be liberated by reaction with water. Thus on the road to making ammonia from a metal nitride

M – N  + H2O   →  M – OH  +  N-H  ; then  M(OH)2    →  MO + H2O and this is repeated until ammonia is made. An important point is one hydrogen atom is transferred from each molecule of water while one is retained by the oxygen attached to the metal. Now the bond between deuterium and oxygen is stronger than that from hydrogen, the reason being that the hydrogen atom, being lighter, has its bond vibrate more strongly. Therefore the deuterium is more likely to remain on the oxygen atom and end up in further water. This is known as the chemical isotope effect, and it is much more effective at concentrating deuterium. Thus as I see it, too much of the water was used up making gas, and eventually also making carbon dioxide. Venus may never have had much surface water.

How can we exist?

One of the more annoying questions in physics is why are we here? Bear with me for a minute, as this is a real question. The Universe is supposed to have started with what Fred Hoyle called “The Big Bang”. Fred was being derisory, but the name stuck. Anyway what happened is that a very highly intense burst of energy began expanding, and as it did, perforce the energy became less dense. As that happened, out condensed elementary particles. On an extremely small scale, that happens in high-energy collisions, such as in the Large Hadron Collider. So we are reasonably convinced we know what happened up to this point, but there is a very big fly in the ointment. When such particles condense out we get an equal amount of matter and what we call antimatter. (In principle, we should get dark matter too, but since we do not know what that is, I shall leave that.) 

Antimatter is, as you might guess, the opposite of matter. The most obvious example is the positron, which is exactly the same as the electron except it has positive electric charge, so when a positron is around an electron they attract. In principle, if they were to hit each other they would release an infinite amount of energy, but nature hates the infinities that come out of our equations so when they get so close they annihilate each other and you get two gamma ray photons that leave in opposite directions to conserve momentum. That is more or less what happens when antimatter generally meets matter – they annihilate each other, which is why, when we make antimatter in colliders, if we want to collect it we have to do it very carefully with magnetic traps and in a vacuum.

So now we get to the problem of why we are here: with all that antimatter made in equal proportions to matter, why do we have so much matter? As it happens, the symmetry is violated very slightly in kaon decay, but this is probably not particularly helpful because the effect is too slight. In the previous post on muon decay I mentioned that that could be a clue that there might be physics beyond the Standard Model to be unraveled. Right now, the fact that there is so much matter in the Universe should be a far stronger clue that something is wrong with the Standard Model. 

Or is it? One observation that throws that into doubt was published in the Physical Review, D, 103, 083016 in April this year. But before coming to that, some background. A little over ten years ago, colliding heavy ions made a small amount of anti helium-3, and a little later, antihelium-4. The antihelium has two antiprotons, and one or two antineutrons. To make this, the problem is to get enough antiprotons and antineutrons close enough. To give some idea of the trouble, a billion collisions of gold ions with energies of two hundred billion and sixty-two billion electron volts produced 18 atoms of antihelium 4, with masses of 3.73 billion electron volts. In such a collision, the energy requires a temperature of over 250,000 times that of the sun’s core. 

Such antihelium can be detected through gamma ray frequencies when the atoms decay on striking matter, and apparently also through the Alpha Magnetic Spectrometer on the International Space Station, which tracks cosmic rays. The important point is that antihelium-4 behaves exactly the same as an alpha particle, except that, because the antiprotons have negative charge, their trajectories bend in the opposite direction to ordinary nuclei. These antinuclei can be made through the energies of cosmic rays hitting something, however it has been calculated that the amount of antihelium-3 detected so far is 50 times too great to be explained by cosmic rays, and the amount of antihelium-4 detected is 100,000 times too much.

How can this be? The simple answer is that the antihelium is being made by antistars. If you accept them, gamma ray detection indicates 5787 sources, and it has been proposed that at least fourteen of these are antistars, and if we look at the oldest stars near the centre of the galaxy, then estimates suggest up to a fifth of the stars there could be antistars, possibly with antiplanets. If there were people on these, giving them a hug would be outright disastrous for each of you.Of course, caution here is required. It is always possible that this antihelium was made in a more mundane way that as yet we do not understand. On the other hand, if there are antistars, it solves automatically a huge problem, even if it creates a bigger one: how did the matter and antimatter separate? As is often the case in science, solving one problem creates even bigger problems. However, real antistars would alter our view of the universe and as long as the antimatter is at a good distance, we can accept them.