Energy-limited escape — where it appears
Named by 11 essays across one field — each of them below, with the objects they name alongside it.
The gas a planet cannot keep
Escape is a statement about the tail of a distribution rather than about its mean, so the threshold is not a speed but a dimensionless number near thirty — and past that number the loss rate falls by twelve orders of magnitude. Then, for a hot Jupiter, the whole picture fails and the atmosphere leaves as a wind.
A planet ten times larger in one colour
A hot Neptune that blocks one and a half per cent of its star's light in the optical blocks fifteen per cent of it in the ultraviolet line of hydrogen. No bound atmosphere can be that large — the material is well outside the planet's Roche lobe — so the observation is not a measurement of an atmosphere but of one leaving.
The envelope that doubles a planet lasts longest
The gap in the radii of small planets is not merely a place where planets are rare — it is nearly empty, and the reason is a peak. The time a young star needs to strip a planet's hydrogen is longest for the envelope that swells the planet to a little over twice its core's size. Anything thinner runs away to nothing, and anything thicker settles back towards the peak.
The stripping runs ahead of the starlight that drives it
If young stars carve the radius valley with their X-ray light, the valley should be finished early — half of it before the star has delivered a third of that light, and nine tenths of it within a few hundred million years. If the planets' own cooling cores carve it instead, planets should still be crossing it billions of years later. The two accounts put the valley in the same place, and they are separated by the one thing a histogram cannot show — when.
The young Sun's spin decides what the Earth kept
The calculation that strips sub-Neptunes applies just as well to a planet with a trace of hydrogen. An Earth that captured a few hundredths of a per cent of its mass from the gas it formed in — several times the hydrogen now in its oceans — would have lost all of it, or kept most of it, depending on something nobody has measured — how fast the Sun was spinning in its first few hundred million years.
Steam before the zone existed
The smallest stars take hundreds of millions of years to contract onto the main sequence, shining at many times the luminosity they will settle at. A planet in the habitable zone such a star will eventually have spends that time with its ocean in the air as steam, while starlight splits the water and the hydrogen leaves — so the zone of the commonest star in the galaxy is a place that had to survive being too hot first.
An escape that stops following the starlight
The standard estimate of how fast a planet loses its atmosphere assumes the loss grows in proportion to the ultraviolet light it absorbs. It does, up to a point. Beyond about ten thousand erg per square centimetre per second the escaping gas is fully ionised, its heat leaves as Lyman-α light instead of lifting anything, and the loss grows only as the square root of the flux — so the one efficiency every calculation needs is really a function of where the planet sits.
The heaviest atom a hydrogen wind can lift
A planet losing hydrogen fast enough to blow off as a wind drags other gases with it, but only those lighter than a crossover mass set by how strong the wind is. Below it every gas leaves in proportion to its distance from the limit and its isotopes are sorted by the same amount per mass unit; above it nothing goes. The Earth's xenon is sorted and its krypton is not, which no wind of neutral atoms can arrange.
A shoreline measured in light already spent
In the solar system one line of slope four, in the plane of escape velocity against sunlight, separates every world with air from every world without. Drawn against the light a planet receives today it puts the temperate planets of a small red dwarf safely on the side with air. Drawn against the stripping light their star has already spent, it moves them an order of magnitude toward the airless side — and leaves most of them inside a band that the line's unknown height cannot resolve.
An envelope spent so an ocean could stay
A planet in the eventual habitable zone of a small red dwarf spends its first tens of millions of years too close to a star that is still contracting and still bright, with its ocean boiled into steam and the steam being split and lost. A wisp of hydrogen left over from the nebula — a few hundredths of a per cent of the planet's mass — would change that, because the star's ultraviolet would spend itself removing the hydrogen first. The envelope that shields the ocean and the envelope that never leaves bracket a range a factor of twenty wide, and the amounts a rocky planet is expected to capture fall inside it.
An envelope that boils down before the starlight strips it
The usual story of how small planets lose their hydrogen starts with the star's ultraviolet light and runs for a hundred million years. It skips the first million. When the gas disc that fed a young planet disappears, an envelope that was swollen and held in by the disc's pressure is suddenly exposed, and it pours off as a wind powered by ordinary heat — until it has shrunk to the size at which the same number near thirty that governs every escaping atmosphere shuts the flow off.
Named alongside it
The objects these essays reach for when they reach for this one.
PhotoevaporationXUV fluxSub-neptuneHydrodynamic escapeRadius valleyAtmospheric escapePrimordial atmosphereSaturationScale heightSuper-EarthHabitable zoneParker wind