Generator

The debris-flux generator

The population peaks at 825 km, and so does the risk

The population peaks at 825 km, and so does the risk. Tracked objects per 25-kilometre shell against altitude, with the collision rate on a single object computed from each bin as nσv — a gas-kinetic rate, not an orbital calculation. The cross-section is not a satellite's area but an effective one, 3698 square centimetres, fixed by requiring the whole tracked population to produce the one catastrophic collision every 8 years that is observed — most tracked objects are fragments, and two fragments meeting make nothing new. The distribution is not smooth and its shape is history: the peak of 3,010 objects near 825 km is four decades of launches into sun-synchronous orbit plus the debris of two deliberate destructions, and the second rise past 1,300 km is the Soviet-era navigation constellation. At the peak one such object waits 46,409 years between strikes — which sounds safe until it is multiplied by the 3,010 objects sharing that shell, giving one collision every 31 years among them, and by the 23,680 in the whole of low orbit, giving one every 8. The rate on one object is reassuring and the rate on the population is not, and they are the same number.

Tracked objects per 25-kilometre shell against altitude, with the collision rate on a single object computed from each bin as nσv — a gas-kinetic rate, not an orbital calculation. The cross-section is not a satellite's area but an *effective* one, 3698 square centimetres, fixed by requiring the whole tracked population to produce the one catastrophic collision every 8 years that is observed — most tracked objects are fragments, and two fragments meeting make nothing new. The distribution is not smooth and its shape is history: the peak of 3,010 objects near 825 km is four decades of launches into sun-synchronous orbit plus the debris of two deliberate destructions, and the second rise past 1,300 km is the Soviet-era navigation constellation. At the peak one such object waits *46,409 years between strikes* — which sounds safe until it is multiplied by the 3,010 objects sharing that shell, giving one collision every 31 years among them, and by the 23,680 in the whole of low orbit, giving one every 8. *The rate on one object is reassuring and the rate on the population is not, and they are the same number.*

10 essays call debris-flux. The drawing above is what it returns with no arguments at all; every call below passes it something, because a placement that passes nothing draws whichever member of the family the generator happens to default to rather than the one its essay argues about.

Where it is called

Every figure listed here is the same construction drawn at different numbers, so a correction to one is a correction to all of them.

A quadratic and a linear, crossing at 149 objects. The two rates that decide whether a shell at 900 km is stable, against how many objects are in it. Production goes as N² — every collision needs two objects, so the number of collisions is proportional to the square of the population, and each one is taken here to make 1600 trackable fragments. Removal goes as N, because drag acts on each object independently and takes 1,195 years to do it at this altitude. A quadratic and a linear cross exactly once, at 149 objects in this shell, and above that crossing the population grows with nothing launched. The shell presently holds about 2,280, which is 15 times the crossing. Every number on the production side is uncertain by a factor of a few — the fragment yield most of all, and the cross-section is calibrated against an observed collision rate rather than measured — so the position of the crossing carries that uncertainty with it. The shape does not, and the shape is the argument: a quadratic overtakes a linear once and never comes back, the crossing falls as the altitude rises because the lifetime is in the denominator, and what results is a threshold rather than a trend.

A collision rate that needs no collision

The flux through an orbital shell is a gas-kinetic calculation with no orbits in it. Production goes as the square of the population and removal goes as the first power, so a quadratic overtakes a linear once and never comes back — and which side of that a shell is on is decided by its altitude.

Mass at the top, area at the bottom, 10 decades apart. Two moments of a collisional cascade's size distribution, per logarithmic interval of diameter, over 10 decades from a ten-micron grain to a hundred-kilometre parent body. Both axes are logarithmic and the vertical scale is arbitrary; only the slopes carry the argument. A population in which every collision makes fragments that go on to collide reaches a steady state where the same mass flows through every size per unit time, and that fixes the differential number distribution at an index of 3.5. The two consequences pull opposite ways. Mass per decade goes as the diameter to the power 0.5, so it climbs and almost all the mass is in the largest few bodies. Cross-sectional area per decade goes as the diameter to the power -0.5, so it falls, and almost all the area — which is what scatters light, what is detected, and what anything passing through gets hit by — is in the smallest. Over the range drawn the small end carries 10⁵ times the area of the large end and 10⁻⁵ times its mass. A disc's brightness therefore measures a population whose mass it says nothing whatever about, and the two numbers are connected only through the index of this line.

Where the mass is and where the light is

A population that grinds itself up settles into a size distribution with a fixed slope, and that slope puts almost all the mass in the largest bodies and almost all the cross-section in the smallest. So a debris disc's brightness measures a population whose mass it says nothing about, and the two are connected only by the exponent.

A density that spans a factor of 25 at 400 kilometres. Thermospheric density against altitude, for three levels of solar activity, with the model's own uncertainty band drawn around the middle curve. The extreme ultraviolet output of the Sun heats the upper atmosphere, so the scale height rises with activity and the density at a fixed altitude rises with it — by a factor of 25 at 400 kilometres between solar minimum and maximum. Superposed on that are a diurnal bulge of about a factor of two, semiannual variations, and geomagnetic storms that raise the density by tens of per cent within hours. The best empirical models reproduce past conditions to about 15 per cent, and orbital lifetime is inversely proportional to density, so a re-entry predicted a year ahead carries that error and the far larger one of not knowing what the Sun will do.

A density model wrong by a factor of two

Everything about a low orbit's future depends on the density of the air at four hundred kilometres, and that density varies by a factor of twenty-five over the solar cycle, by two within a day, and by tens of per cent during a storm nobody predicted. Every model of it is an empirical fit, and re-entry dates are quoted with the honesty that implies.

The fragments nobody can see and cannot shield against

A catastrophic collision in low orbit makes about a thousand pieces big enough to track and sixty thousand big enough to destroy a spacecraft. The catalogue is under two per cent of the hazard, the gap is not one better radars will close, and the fragments' lifetimes span a factor of twenty-five within a single event.

The weakest bodies are a few hundred metres across. The energy per unit mass needed to shatter a body and disperse half of it, against the body's diameter, for basalt and water ice, from fits to impact simulations calibrated on laboratory fragmentation. Small bodies are held together by material strength, which falls with size because a larger body contains larger flaws; large bodies are held together by their own gravity, which rises with size because the fragments have to be thrown apart as well as broken. The two regimes meet in a minimum at 235 m for basalt and 204 m for water ice, where a body needs the least energy per kilogram to destroy of any size — 127 J/kg and 57 J/kg, the kinetic energy per kilogram of motion at only 16 and 11 metres a second. A collisional population is therefore not self-similar: it has a preferred size, and its size distribution records it.

The size at which a body is easiest to break

A pebble is held together by the strength of its rock and a moon by its own gravity, and somewhere between them is a size that has too little of either. Bodies a few hundred metres across are the weakest in the solar system — sixteen metres a second of impact energy per kilogram is enough to scatter one — and a population grinding itself down records that weakness as a knee in its size distribution.

$Debris discs of very different masses, fading to one line. The fractional luminosity of a debris belt at 50 AU — the share of its star's light the dust absorbs and re-radiates — against age, from a million to ten billion years, for belts that start with 1, 10, 100, 1000 Earth masses of planetesimals up to 60 km across. Each stays near its starting brightness until its largest bodies have had time to collide, 16.5 billion years, 1.7 billion years, 165 million years, 17 million years respectively, and then fades as one over the age. A heavier belt starts brighter and grinds itself down faster, and the two effects cancel: after their collisional times all belts lie on the same line, the dashed maximum, whatever their mass. At ten billion years the two heaviest differ by 1 per cent.$ Orbits

A ceiling that forgets how much there was

A belt of planetesimals around a star shows itself only through its dust, and the dust is ground from the belt's largest bodies by collisions. Give the belt more mass and it makes more dust — but it also collides more often, and grinds itself away faster. At late times the two effects cancel exactly, and every belt at a given distance and age lies on the same line of maximum brightness whatever it started with. A disc above that line cannot be a steady cascade, and it is telling of a recent catastrophe.

Fifty objects that hold most of the future

Low Earth orbit holds thousands of dead satellites and spent rocket stages, and the debris of the future will come mostly from their collisions. But not in equal shares. A derelict's contribution is the chance it is hit, times the fragments it would make, times how long they would stay up — and all three favour the heaviest objects in the most crowded, highest orbits. Ranked that way, a few tens of rocket bodies near 850 kilometres carry nearly half the risk, and the arithmetic of cleaning space becomes the arithmetic of choosing them.

$Removals a year, set almost entirely by one percentage. The number of derelicts that must be removed each year to hold a shell at 50 per cent of its critical count, against the fraction of disposals that fail, for a 650-satellite constellation at 800, 1000, 1200 km. Because a dead satellite at these heights stays up for centuries, almost every failure has to be removed by hand, and the removal rate is very nearly the failure rate: at 1200 km, 13 a year if ninety per cent of disposals succeed and 1.3 if ninety-nine do. The removal budget is therefore set by an engineering reliability rather than by the orbital environment, and a percentage point of reliability is worth a fixed number of removal missions a year for as long as the constellation flies. Five removals a year is enough for this shell only above 96.2 per cent reliability.$ Spaceflight

A removal rate set by one percentage

How many dead satellites have to be taken out of a high orbit each year is decided less by the orbit than by how often a satellite fails to dispose of itself. Above eight hundred kilometres a derelict stays for centuries, so the removal rate needed to keep a shell stable is very nearly the failure rate, and moving disposal reliability from ninety per cent to ninety-nine cuts the work tenfold.

Too slow to shatter. The kinetic energy a projectile brings per gram of a 2,000 kg satellite, against the impact speed on logarithmic axes, for projectiles of 1, 10, 100 kg. Above 40 joules per gram (dashed) the standard breakup model counts the collision as catastrophic — the whole target is shattered; below it, only a crater is made. The speeds needed are 12.6, 4.0, 1.3 km/s respectively. In the geostationary ring, where nothing crosses faster than about 0.8 km/s (shaded), only a projectile of hundreds of kilograms — another satellite — can shatter a satellite; in low orbit, at ten kilometres a second, a kilogram can.

A ring where nothing leaves and little shatters

Every argument about orbital debris in low orbit ends in the atmosphere, which pulls fragments down in years or centuries. The geostationary ring has no atmosphere, so its removal term is exactly zero and anything left there stays for millions of years. It is saved by a second fact of the same geometry. Everything in the ring moves at nearly the same speed in nearly the same direction, so collisions there are slow, and a slow collision usually leaves a crater where a fast one leaves a cloud.

$One impact, three ways to fade. The fractional luminosity of the dust from a giant impact at 1 AU against time since the impact, for 0.01 Earth masses of debris whose largest pieces are centimetre spherules condensed from the vapour, kilometre fragments, or hundred-kilometre fragments, each grinding down as a collisional cascade. The condensate is bright at once and gone within 286 years; the fragments keep the dust above the dashed detection threshold of 0.0001 for 8 thousand years and 9.3 million years. One impact carries two clocks: a flash measured in years and a glow measured in millennia.$ Orbits

Two clocks in the dust of one collision

A collision between two young planets fills the inner system with dust that shines in the infrared far above anything a steady belt could sustain. The dust carries two clocks. The spherules that condense from the vapour grind themselves away within a few centuries, so a fresh impact flashes and fades on a timescale an astronomer can watch. The fragments last thousands to millions of years, and how long depends on the size of the largest pieces — not on how much was thrown out. The share of young stars that glow counts impacts times fragment size; only the flashes count impacts.

The whole library · All essays