Astronomy & Celestial Mechanics
the sky, computed
The collection

Every essay — page 8

One idea per essay, ordered so that the earlier ones set up the later ones — but nothing here depends on being read in sequence. Essays 141–160 of 514.

Stars

The diagram that sorted them, and the one quantity that decides a star's whole life.

A furnace with the thermostat taken out. Left, the two pressures in a red giant's helium core at 10⁶ g/cm³. The ideal-gas pressure rises with temperature, as the whole regulation of a star depends on it doing; the degenerate electron pressure is a horizontal line, because the exclusion principle does not know the temperature. At the ignition point near 10⁸ K the degenerate term is 5.1 times the gas term, so a temperature rise there raises the total pressure by almost nothing and the core does not expand. Right, what that costs. Both curves start at the same temperature with the same triple-alpha rate, whose logarithmic slope is 41 — the famous T⁴⁰, differentiated here rather than quoted. The regulated core settles; the degenerate one, with nowhere to put the extra energy, goes vertical. The flash reaches 10¹⁰ solar luminosities for a few seconds and not one photon of it is seen: every erg goes into lifting the degeneracy, and the star's visible response is to become fainter and settle on the horizontal branch.

The explosion that never reaches the surface

When helium ignites in a degenerate core the thermostat every other burning stage runs on is disconnected. The runaway reaches ten billion solar luminosities for a few seconds, and the star's visible response is to get fainter.

9 figures · Stellar evolution The temperature of a disc around a stellar black hole. Effective temperature against radius, in units of the inner edge, for a stellar black hole of 10 solar masses accreting 10⁻⁸ solar masses a year. Two features are structural. The profile turns over rather than rising all the way in: the factor (1 − √(r_in/r)) is the statement that no torque acts across the inner edge, so nothing is dissipated there and the peak sits at 49/36 of it, measured here at 1.361. And outside a few inner radii the run is exactly r^−3/4, drawn as the dashed line, which is what makes a disc's spectrum broad: every decade of radius contributes at a temperature a factor of 5.6 lower. The peak is 3.46·10⁶ K here, so the disc radiates in X-rays, and integrating the whole profile gives 4.72·10³⁰ W — which is GMṀ/2r_in to a per cent, half the binding energy released and no more, because the other half is still going round.

The disc that has to throw angular momentum away

Matter cannot simply fall onto a compact object. At the energy it arrives with, it has far too much angular momentum, and the only way in is for some of it to be carried outwards — which is what a disc is for.

8 figures · Accretion Two stars at the same point of every other diagram, 4.1 times apart in one. Above: the gravity-mode period spacing against the large frequency separation, for 90 shell-burning giants and 55 core-burning ones. These are the same stars in every other measurement. They have the same luminosity, the same temperature, the same colour, the same surface gravity and — inside the band drawn — the same Δν, which means the same mean density; the scaling relations of the rung below return the same mass and the same radius for both. What separates them is a quantity that comes from nowhere near the surface: ΔΠ₁ is set by the buoyancy frequency integrated across the core, and a core that has ignited helium is expanded and convective, so its integral is smaller and its period spacing larger. The two sequences do not touch — 61 seconds against 248 — and the gap sorts a catalogue of tens of thousands of giants into stars burning hydrogen in a shell and stars burning helium in a core, by a Fourier transform of a light curve. Below: what that looks like in the spectrum itself, drawn over two radial orders. The number of mixed ℓ = 1 modes between consecutive radial modes is Δν/(ΔΠ₁ν²), so the shell burner has about 12 of them and the core burner about 3: the star with the larger period spacing has the sparser spectrum. The picture cannot show what the same modes are also used for and cannot settle — the splitting of each mixed mode gives the rotation rate of the core separately from the envelope, and the cores come out spinning some ten times faster than the surface and a hundred times slower than any model of angular-momentum transport predicts.

Two stars only a Fourier transform can tell apart

A giant burning hydrogen in a shell and one burning helium in its core sit at the same luminosity, the same temperature and the same mean density. Every scaling relation returns the same mass and radius for both. The gravity-mode period spacing is fifty seconds for one and three hundred for the other.

8 figures · Asteroseismology Two measured numbers, and everything else on the page derived from them. 25 pulsars in the plane of period against period derivative, at their catalogued values. Only the two axes are measurements; the three families of contour are models. Constant surface field runs at slope −1 because B ∝ √(PṖ), constant characteristic age at slope +1 because τ = P/2Ṗ, and the two families cross the population at right angles — which is why a single dot fixes both. The Crab sits at 3.8·10¹² G and 1257 years, and its true age is 972; the millisecond pulsars at the lower left have fields ten thousand times weaker and characteristic ages of billions of years, because they were spun back up by a companion long after they died. The line at the lower right is the death line, B/P² below which the model says no pair production and therefore no radio emission — and J2144−3933 is drawn below it, an 8.5-second pulsar that is radiating anyway.

A clock that runs down and says what it is

A pulsar hands over two measured numbers, a period and its derivative. Everything else usually quoted about it — an age, a magnetic field, a luminosity — is derived from those two through a model, and the one measurement that tests the model refutes it.

8 figures · Pulsars The period spans 492× and the pulsation constant 2.1×. The pulsation constant Q = P√(ρ̄/ρ̄_⊙) for 7 radial pulsators, against their periods. A radial pulsation is a standing sound wave across a star and the sound speed in a self-gravitating body is set by its own gravity, so the period should go as (Gρ̄)^−1/2 and Q should be the same for every star pulsating in the same mode. Across a factor of 492 in period — from 1.3 hours to 27 days — Q varies by 2.07, with a mean of 0.0393 days. That is the whole reason a period–luminosity relation can exist: a period is a density, a density is a mass and a radius, and a radius with a temperature is a luminosity. The masses here are the weak link and the caption should say so — for the Cepheids they come from evolutionary models rather than from a dynamical measurement, and the drift of Q with period is where that assumption is showing.

The valve that has to sit at the right depth

A period–luminosity relation only exists because a period is a density in disguise. Which stars have a period at all is decided by whether a partial ionisation zone sits deep enough to have mass behind it and shallow enough that convection has not taken it over.

8 figures · Variable stars A distance of 52.0 parsecs with nothing underneath it. Two ways to a distance for the same pair. The orbital parallax needs no iteration and no assumption: a double-lined spectroscopic orbit gives the relative orbit's linear size as (K₁+K₂)P√(1−e²)/2π sin i = 0.2268 AU, an astrometric orbit gives its angular size as 4.36 milliarcseconds, and the ratio is 52.0 parsecs — a length divided by an angle, with no rung of the distance ladder below it and no property of the stars assumed. The curves show the dynamical parallax, the version available when only one spectrum can be measured: guess the mass sum, take the linear size from the harmonic law, divide by the angular size, convert the apparent magnitude to an absolute one and read a new mass sum off a mass–luminosity relation. Three starting guesses spanning a factor of 10 in mass converge to the same distance in 8 passes and agree to 0.001 per cent. It converges because the distance depends on the assumed mass only as its cube root — the measured exponent here is 0.3333 — so a factor of two in the mass is 26 per cent in the distance, and one pass removes most of that. What it converges to is not the orbital parallax: the iteration settles at 54.2 pc against 52.0, 4.2 per cent away, because the fixed point is set by the mass–luminosity relation and the apparent magnitude rather than by anything measured about this orbit. The same insensitivity that makes it converge is why it is never better than the relation it leans on.

Two orbits of one pair, and a distance falls out

Measure the same binary spectroscopically and astrometrically and the orbit comes back twice — once as a length in kilometres and once as an angle on the sky. The ratio is a distance that owes nothing to parallax, nothing to a standard candle, and nothing to any assumption about the stars.

8 figures · Binary stars Three ways for a timing model to be wrong, and three shapes that say which. Timing residuals over 6 years for the Crab pulsar, one curve per kind of error in the model, in microseconds. A position error of 1.2 mas leaves a sinusoid of period exactly one year — measured off the drawn curve as 1.000 — with amplitude (a/c)·δθ·cos β = 2.7 μs, because the error is being projected onto a baseline that is the Earth's own orbit and nothing about the pulsar. An unmodelled proper motion of 0.9 mas/yr leaves the same sinusoid with an envelope growing linearly: twice as large at 6 years as at 3. An error of one part in 10⁹ in Ṗ leaves a parabola, the second integral of a frequency drift, whose second derivative is constant to 4e-12 across the span — and that fractional error is deliberately minute, because anything larger produces a residual thousands of times the other two and draws them as flat lines. The shapes do not resemble each other, which is the whole reason a pulsar is an instrument rather than a clock: fitting them simultaneously delivers a position, a proper motion and — from the annual curvature term, not drawn here — a parallax, all from the arrival times of pulses and no image of anything. What is left when every known shape has been removed is the science: glitches, red noise, and the correlated residual between pairs of pulsars that a timing array exists to find.

A clock read against a model of everything in between

A pulsar delivers arrival times and nothing else. Everything else is a model, and what is measured is the difference between the model and the arrivals — a residual whose shape says which term is wrong, and whose annual sinusoid is a position measured from pulses rather than from an image.

9 figures · Pulsars 4 cycles of wings, and the polarity reverses at every boundary. Sunspot latitude against date, one mark per spot group, over 4 cycles of 11 years. The pattern is the reason the plot is called a butterfly diagram, and both of its features are laws with names. Spörer's law is the downward slope: spots emerge near ±28° at the start of a cycle and near ±7° at the end, so each wing narrows towards the equator and never crosses it. Hale's law is what the two mark shapes say: the leading spot of a pair has one magnetic polarity in the north and the other in the south, and both reverse when a new cycle starts — so a diagram that repeats every 11 years in appearance repeats only every 22 in magnetism. The wings overlap: the first high-latitude spots of a cycle appear about 1.6 years before the last low-latitude spots of the one before, which is why counting spots gives a cycle length slightly different from measuring one between polarity reversals. The dot density in time is the sunspot number itself, drawn from the standard skewed fitting function — the rise to maximum takes about four years and the decline about seven, in every cycle ever recorded.

A magnetic clock read off a butterfly

Plot sunspot latitude against date and the marks form wings that open at thirty degrees and march to the equator. The polarities reverse between wings, so the magnetic period is twenty-two years and the famous eleven is an artefact of counting spots rather than fields.

9 figures · Solar cycle 7 solar masses of progenitor become 0.56 of white dwarf. Above: the initial–final mass relation. The steep line is what a star would leave if it kept everything; the shallow one is what it actually leaves, M_f = 0.08M_i + 0.489, fitted to white dwarfs in open clusters. Everything between 1 and 8 solar masses ends up between 0.57 and 1.13 — a range of 7 compressed by a factor of 12 — and the fraction thrown away rises from 43% at the bottom to 86% at the top. A star spends most of its mass in the last per cent of its life, at rates no theory predicts from first principles, and this relation is measured by running stellar evolution backwards: a cluster's turn-off gives the age, a white dwarf's temperature gives its cooling time, the difference gives how long its progenitor lived, and a model turns that into the mass it was born with. Below: the white dwarf mass distribution that follows, from a Salpeter initial mass function pushed through the relation above. It peaks at 0.61 solar masses, which is what every survey of white dwarfs measures. Two things make that peak and the flatness of the relation is only one of them: the unsmoothed distribution (the stepped curve) falls monotonically and is largest at its low-mass edge, because the initial mass function is steep. The edge is where it is because no star lighter than about 1.0 solar masses has had time to die yet, and the scatter of the measurement rounds that cliff into a maximum a little above it. A flat relation produces a narrow range; it takes the age of the Galaxy to produce a peak.

The mass a star does not keep

The initial–final mass relation is nearly flat, so everything from one to eight solar masses ends as a white dwarf between 0.57 and 1.13 — and the observed distribution piles up at 0.6 almost regardless of what went in. The relation is measured by running stellar evolution backwards, because nothing predicts the loss.

8 figures · Stellar evolution Seven sources over twelve decades of flux, and one threshold below the one that matters. The Sun's neutrino spectrum at the Earth, with the continua drawn per unit energy and the two monoenergetic lines as spikes at their own energies. The pp reaction supplies 91 per cent of all of them and its endpoint is at 0.4233 MeV. The vertical lines are experimental thresholds, and they are the figure's argument: only gallium sits below that endpoint. Chlorine, which produced the deficit and held it for twenty years, could not see a single pp neutrino — it counted ⁷Be and ⁸B, which are a rare branch of a rare branch, together under a per cent of the total — and the water detectors that followed were higher still. So the discrepancy that eventually turned out to be a property of the neutrino was measured, for two decades, using the least representative one per cent of the flux available. The total drawn here is 6.54·10¹⁰ cm⁻² s⁻¹, and it is checkable without any stellar model at all: every completed chain turns four protons into helium, releases 26.73 MeV of which 0.59 leaves as neutrinos, and emits two neutrinos — so the solar constant of 1361 W m⁻² fixes the number at 6.5·10¹⁰ cm⁻² s⁻¹, within 0.6 per cent of the sum of the model's own branches. The dominant flux is a consequence of the Sun shining and of nothing else.

The only thing that leaves the centre

A photon made in the Sun's core takes a hundred thousand years to get out and arrives thermalised past recognition. A neutrino takes 2.3 seconds and arrives unchanged, so its flux is the fusion rate now — which is why a factor of three could not be absorbed by any adjustment to the Sun.

8 figures · Solar neutrinos The light curve of AI Phoenicis, computed from its elements. Total light against orbital phase, computed by overlapping two discs of radius 1.805 and 2.9303 solar radii at an inclination of 88.5°, each weighted by its own surface brightness. The two eclipses hide the same area of sky and have different depths — 48.0 and 19.1 per cent — because what is lost is the light of whichever star is behind, and the ratio of the depths is therefore the ratio of the two surface brightnesses. Two things are left out and both matter to a real solution: this is the bolometric light rather than the light in a filter, and the discs are uniform, where a real one is limb-darkened and so has a deeper, rounder eclipse than the flat-bottomed one drawn here.

Two radii, from a light curve alone

The radius of a star is not measured. It is inferred, from a temperature and a luminosity, through a model. There is one exception — a pair of stars that eclipse each other, whose light curve and velocity curves between them give both radii, both masses and the ratio of temperatures with no model of a stellar interior anywhere in the chain.

10 figures · Binary stars A spectrum belonging to no temperature at all. The disc's summed emission, with the individual annuli drawn faintly beneath it. Each ring is a blackbody at its own temperature, and each is drawn at the area it actually has — the outer rings are cool and enormous, the inner ones hot and small. The sum has three parts and only the two ends belong to a temperature: a Rayleigh–Jeans rise of slope 2 from the outermost ring, a Wien cutoff at the hottest, and between them a stretch of slope 0.316, against the 1/3 that comes out of integrating ν²T(r)r dr with T ∝ r^−3/4. That middle section is the observational signature of a disc: no single blackbody produces it, no photosphere produces it, and its width rather than its peak is what says how far in the disc goes. What the figure cannot show is that a real disc's innermost rings are neither thin nor blackbodies, which is where the model's clean edges stop.

A spectrum that is a stack of temperatures

An accretion disc is not hot. Its inner edge is, its outer edge is not, and the temperature runs continuously between them as a power of radius — so what leaves the disc is the sum of a great many blackbodies at different temperatures, which is a spectrum with no temperature in it and a slope no single body can produce.

8 figures · Accretion A measured mass of 2.08 deletes an equation of state. Mass against radius for three neutron-star equations of state, each a polytrope P = Kρ² integrated through the Tolman–Oppenheimer–Volkoff equation from the centre outwards until the pressure reaches zero. Every sequence rises, turns over and falls; only the rising part is stable, because past the maximum adding mass makes the star smaller and the smaller star cannot hold itself up. The maxima here are 1.60, 2.10, 2.57 solar masses, in the order of increasing stiffness — the same nuclear matter with a slightly harder response to compression supports a heavier star, and nothing else in the calculation changes. The horizontal band is PSR J0740+6620, whose mass of 2.08 ± 0.07 solar masses comes from the Shapiro delay of its own pulses passing its companion, which is a timing measurement and involves no model of the star at all. It sits above the maximum of one of the three, and those are not disfavoured but excluded: an equation of state that cannot hold up two solar masses is wrong, whatever else recommends it. The two lines at the left are exact and no star may cross them — the Schwarzschild radius, and the bound above it inside which the speed of sound in the matter would exceed the speed of light. A caution about the curves themselves: a Γ = 2 polytrope is a stand-in for nuclear matter and runs a kilometre or two large in radius at fixed mass, so read the ordering and the maxima rather than the radii.

A radius that decides what matter can be

Nobody can make matter at four times the density of an atomic nucleus, and no calculation settles what it does there. What can be done is to weigh a neutron star — every candidate description of that matter predicts a heaviest star it could hold up, and a single measured mass above that value deletes the description permanently.

9 figures · Degeneracy Four kinds of explosion, told apart by which line is missing. Spectra of 4 supernova types — Ia, II, Ib, Ic — near maximum light, stacked, over the same wavelength range and drawn with the same photospheric expansion speed of 10,000 kilometres per second. Every feature is a P Cygni profile: a trough blueshifted by the material expanding towards the observer and a peak at rest wavelength from the material moving across the line of sight, and the width of both is the expansion speed. Reading the silicon trough of the type Ia off the drawing puts it at 614.0 nanometres, which recovers 10,131 km/s from a rest wavelength of 635.5. The classification is a decision tree on absences. Hydrogen present makes it a type II; no hydrogen but silicon makes it a Ia; no hydrogen and no silicon but helium makes it a Ib; none of the three makes it a Ic. That tree was written down before anybody knew what these objects were, and it separates a detonating white dwarf from a collapsing massive core almost perfectly — because what the letters are actually reading is how much of the star's outer envelope was still there when it exploded. The type II kept its hydrogen, the Ib had lost it and shows the helium beneath, the Ic had lost that too.

Two explosions told apart by a missing line

The classification of supernovae is a decision tree on absences — is hydrogen there, is silicon there, is helium there — and it was drawn up decades before anybody knew what any of these events were. It nevertheless separates a detonating white dwarf from a collapsing stellar core almost perfectly, and the reason it does is worth the essay.

10 figures · Supernovae

Spaceflight

Celestial mechanics used forwards — where to burn, and what it costs.

A Hohmann transfer, 2.6 to 1 in radius. Two circular orbits and the ellipse that touches both. The first burn raises the far point to the outer orbit; the second, half an orbit later, circularises. The costs are computed from the vis-viva relation.

The cheapest way between two orbits, and why it is so slow

Two burns and a long coast is the least fuel that will move a spacecraft between two circular orbits. It is also, for anything beyond the Moon, an unreasonably long wait.

9 figures · Orbital transfer Circular and escape speed. Orbital and escape speed against distance, in units of the circular speed at the surface. The escape curve is the circular one multiplied by the square root of two, at every distance without exception.

The speed that does not come back, and the √2 that separates it

Escape speed is exactly the square root of two times circular speed, at every distance from every body. Being in orbit is already 71% of the way to leaving.

9 figures · Escape A gravity assist with a 70° turn. The velocity triangle of a flyby. In the planet's frame the spacecraft's speed is unchanged and only its direction turns; adding the planet's own velocity converts that turn into a gain in speed measured from the Sun.

Stealing speed from a planet, which does not notice

A flyby cannot change a spacecraft's speed relative to the planet. It changes its direction — and adding the planet's own motion back turns that into free velocity.

10 figures · Gravity assist How much of a rocket has to be propellant. Propellant fraction against the velocity change bought, for three real propellant combinations. The curves approach 1 and cannot reach it, so every extra kilometre per second costs a larger share of what remains — which is why staging exists.

The exponential that decides what can be flown

A rocket carries its own reaction mass, so every kilogram of propellant has to be accelerated by the propellant beneath it. The result is exponential, and it is the reason spaceflight is hard.

9 figures · Rocket equation Catching a target 40° ahead. A phasing manoeuvre. Dropping into an orbit 6% lower shortens the period to 0.9553 of the target's, so the chaser gains 16.1° each lap and closes 40° in 3 revolutions. Speeding up would have lost ground instead.

Catching up by slowing down, which cost Gemini 4 its fuel

To reach something ahead in the same orbit, a spacecraft must fire backwards. Pointing at the target and thrusting makes the gap grow, and a crew found that out in orbit before anyone had flown the correct manoeuvre.

10 figures · Rendezvous Total Δv against the radius ratio. Total transfer Δv, in units of the starting circular speed, against the ratio of the two circular radii. The Hohmann transfer is cheapest at small ratios; the bi-elliptic transfers overtake it, and the limiting one — an intermediate apoapsis taken to infinity — crosses at a ratio of 11.94. Above about 15.6 every bi-elliptic transfer beats the Hohmann.

Going too far in order to arrive cheaply

The Hohmann transfer is the cheapest two-burn route between circular orbits. Past a radius ratio of 11.94 the cheapest route is three burns, and it goes far beyond the destination first.

8 figures · Orbital transfer

Every sequence · Every named object · Search