Theme

Two bodies, and no more

The two-body problem is solved exactly and the three-body problem is not solved at all. Almost everything since has been about living with that.
Equal areas in equal times, at eccentricity 0.65. Positions of an orbiting body at equal intervals of time, obtained by solving Kepler's equation. The two shaded sectors span the same interval and enclose the same area — a long thin one at the far end, a short fat one at the close approach. Orbits

Equal areas in equal times, which is angular momentum in disguise

Kepler's second law is a statement about the area a radius line sweeps. It looks like an odd thing to have noticed, and it turns out to be a conservation law arriving eighty years early.

A vector that does not change, drawn five times. The Laplace–Runge–Lenz vector A = v × L − GM r̂, constructed at five points of one orbit at e = 0.45 under a force ∝ r^−2, each drawn from the body rather than from the focus so that its length and direction can be compared point by point. Under the inverse square every one of them is the same vector: identical to machine precision in length and in direction. Its length is 0.4500, which is the eccentricity, and it points at pericentre — so the orbit's orientation is a conserved quantity and not a constant of integration, which is why the ellipse does not turn. Orbits

The third thing that is conserved

Energy fixes an orbit's size and angular momentum fixes its shape. Neither fixes which way it points — so a curve that closes needs a third conserved quantity, and only two force laws in the universe supply one.

The three anomalies at E = 1.15 rad. The auxiliary circle construction. The eccentric anomaly E is measured at the centre, the true anomaly ν at the focus, and the mean anomaly M is time expressed as an angle. Here E = 1.150, ν = 1.827 and M = 0.602 radians, related by M = E − e sin E. Orbits

The position that has no formula, and is computed anyway

Kepler's equation relates where a body is to when it is there. It cannot be solved in elementary functions, Kepler said so, and nobody has managed it since — which has stopped nothing.

The effective potential, for three angular momenta. The radial motion of an orbiting body is one-dimensional motion in an effective potential: the attraction −GM/r plus the centrifugal term L²/2r² that the angular momentum contributes. The barrier at small radius is what stops a body with any angular momentum at all from reaching the centre, and the bottom of each well is the circular orbit. Orbits

The wall that angular momentum builds

A body falling toward a star almost never arrives. Sideways motion, which looks like a detail of the initial conditions, turns the attraction into a well with a wall around the middle of it — and the wall is why it costs more fuel to hit the Sun than to leave the solar system.

The osculating semi-major axis of a perturbed orbit. The semi-major axis a test particle would have if the perturber vanished, computed from its position and velocity at every step of an integration over 26 orbits of the perturber. It is not constant: a short-period ripple rides on a slow trend, and only the trend accumulates. Orbits

Elements that do not stay constant

Six numbers fix an orbit for all time, and the phrase is only true in a universe containing two bodies. Add a third and the six start moving — some of them wandering and returning, one or two of them drifting in one direction forever, and the difference between those two behaviours is the whole of celestial mechanics after Newton.

The mass correction against the mass. Each planet's departure from the massless harmonic law, against its own mass in solar units, on logarithmic axes. The exact law puts every point on the diagonal. Jupiter and Saturn are the only planets whose mass correction is larger than the perturbations from everything else, and Saturn's measured departure has the opposite sign. Orbits

The third law is wrong by the mass of the planet

Kepler's harmonic law says the square of the period goes as the cube of the size. Newton's version has one more term in it, and the term is the orbiting body's own mass — negligible for a planet, decisive for a binary star, and the reason a period can be converted into a mass at all.

1I/ʻOumuamua: an orbit at e = 1.201, and the angle it turned through. The open branch of a conic at eccentricity 1.201 and periapsis 0.2559 AU, with the Sun at the occupied focus. Two numbers fix everything else: |a| = q/(e−1) = 1.273 AU, an impact parameter b = |a|√(e²−1) = 0.847 AU, an asymptote at ν∞ = arccos(−1/e) = 146.37° from periapsis, and a deflection of δ = 2ν∞ − 180° = 112.74° — which is the same statement as sin(δ/2) = 1/e. The asymptotes cross at |a|e = 1.529 AU from the Sun on the periapsis side, where a bound orbit's centre would be on the other. The speed left over at infinity is √(μ/|a|) = 26.40 km/s. Schematic in one respect: the drawing runs at about 119 px to the AU, so the Sun's own disc would be far smaller than its marker. Orbits

The orbit that has no period

Above an eccentricity of 1 the conic is open, the energy is positive and the semi-major axis is negative — and the vis-viva relation survives the sign change without a single alteration. What replaces the period is a speed, and that speed is what says where a visitor came from.

The aim point and the miss distance are the same number far out and nothing like it close in. Periapsis distance against aim point for a hyperbolic approach to Jupiter at v∞ = 5.6 km/s, both in planet radii. The diagonal is where the two would be equal — where gravity did nothing — and the curve falls below it everywhere, by more the closer in the aim is. A trajectory aimed at 10.68 radii grazes the surface, because gravitational focusing means the planet's effective size is √(1 + v_esc²/v∞²) times its radius. The slope of this curve is what a navigation team cares about: it is 0.208 at an aim of 12 radii and 0.936 at 150, so the same correction manoeuvre changes the periapsis distance by 4.5 times as much at one end of the range as at the other, while changing B by exactly the same amount at both; far outside this plot, where focusing has run out, it reaches 1.000 and the two numbers become the same one. That is why the aim point is the coordinate a manoeuvre is quoted in, why an error ellipse is published in the B-plane, and why the turn angle — 2 arctan(μ/Bv∞²), 156.0° at 12 radii and 77.8° at 70 — is thought of as a function of B rather than of anything the spacecraft does. Orbits

Aiming at a plane instead of at a planet

A spacecraft arriving at a planet is not aimed at a periapsis distance. It is aimed at a point in a plane perpendicular to its own incoming asymptote, because that is the one coordinate in which the miss distance responds linearly to a correction — and every navigation product ever published for a flyby is written in it.

Four conics through one periapsis, drawn by one solve. Distance from the Sun against time for four orbits sharing a periapsis of 0.5 AU, at e = 0.6, e = 1, e = 1.0001, e = 1.4, over 900 days. Every point on every curve came from the same universal Kepler solve — no branch on the conic class anywhere in it — and each curve was then checked against the classical solution of its own kind at the midpoint: Kepler's equation at e = 0.6 agrees to machine precision; Barker's cubic at e = 1 agrees to machine precision; e sinh H − H at e = 1.0001 agrees to machine precision; e sinh H − H at e = 1.4 agrees to machine precision. The curve to read twice is e = 1.0001: over this arc it lies within 0.02% of the parabola and is indistinguishable from it, and it is the only one of the four whose fate the drawing cannot show. What the classical parameterisation costs there is arithmetic rather than impossibility: at the midpoint of this arc, e sinh H − H throws away 3.3 of its sixteen digits to cancellation, against 0.2 at e = 1.4 — enough to matter to an ephemeris and not enough to stop a plot. Orbits

The one solve that does not ask which conic it is

Kepler's equation is for ellipses, Barker's cubic for parabolas, and a hyperbolic sine for the rest — three parameterisations of one motion, each worst exactly where its neighbour takes over. The universal variable removes the question, and the removal is not a convenience.

One squaring, and the singularity is gone. Left, a harmonic oscillator: an ellipse centred on the origin, marked at 24 equal steps of its own phase. Right, the same points after squaring as complex numbers, u ↦ u². The image is an ellipse with the origin at a focus — checked here by the focal property, r₁ + r₂ = 2a to nine figures at four points — with semi-axes (A²+B²)/2 = 2.5000 and AB = 1.5000 and the focus at (A²−B²)/2 = 2.0000, which is ae exactly. Three things follow at once. The angle doubles, so one turn of the oscillator is one whole orbit traversed twice as fast in phase; the equal phase steps on the left arrive as the eccentric anomaly on the right, which is why that anomaly and not the true one is what the equations want; and the collision at r = 0, where the inverse square is infinite, is the point u = 0, where the oscillator has a perfectly ordinary velocity. The singularity was a property of the coordinates. Orbits

The singularity that is a change of variable

The Kepler problem blows up at zero separation, and a fixed-step integrator falls apart long before it gets there. Divide time by the radius and the equations become a harmonic oscillator — exactly, for every conic at once.

An eccentricity and an inclination trading, at 65° of mutual tilt. The secular equations integrated from a nearly circular orbit (e = 0.02) inclined at 65° to a distant perturber's plane, over three oscillations. Above, the eccentricity; below, the inclination, with the constant √(1−e²)cos i drawn as the flat line it is. The eccentricity climbs to 0.8380 and the inclination falls to 39.25° at the same instant, and neither is a coincidence: the product is fixed, so one can only rise as the other falls. That floor is the same for every starting tilt — at maximum eccentricity j = √(5/3)Θ, so cos i = √(3/5) and the inclination arrives at 39.23° whether the orbit began at 50° or at 89°. The closed form for a circular start is e_max = √(1 − (5/3)cos²i₀) = 0.8380, which contains nothing about the perturber — not its mass, not its distance. Those set the clock and not the amplitude, and the period here is 4.83 Kozai times. What the figure cannot show is what happens at the top of the cycle in a real system: at e = 0.838 the pericentre is 0.1620 of the semi-major axis, where tides, general relativity or a stellar surface all intervene, and the quadrupole picture ends. Orbits

An inclination that turns into an eccentricity

A distant companion cannot change an orbit's size or its energy. It can take a circular orbit tilted past 39.23 degrees and drive it to an eccentricity near one, and back, over and over — and the companion's mass and distance set only the clock.

The same thrust is worth 2.08 times more at perigee, and out of plane it is worth nothing at all. The rate of change of the semi-major axis under a unit acceleration in each of the three directions, against position around an orbit of eccentricity 0.35, from Gauss's variational equations. The along-track curve carries the factor p/r = 1 + e cos f and therefore peaks at perigee, where the same impulse is worth 2.08 times what it is worth at apogee — the whole of the Oberth effect, arriving as a term in a differential equation rather than as an argument about kinetic energy. The radial curve is antisymmetric about apoapsis and integrates to exactly zero over a revolution: pushing outwards for half an orbit and being pushed back for the other half changes the energy by nothing, which is checked here by quadrature and comes out at -9.0e-18. And the out-of-plane response is identically zero at every point of the orbit, because W is perpendicular to the velocity and does no work. An orbital plane can be rotated without touching the energy, and that is why a plane change is so expensive: none of what is spent goes anywhere useful. Orbits

Which direction moves which element

Resolve a small force into three components and Gauss's equations say exactly what each one does. The out-of-plane component can rotate an orbit and can never change its energy; the along-track component owns the semi-major axis outright and is worth more at perigee than at apogee by a factor that is pure geometry.

Earth's eccentricity is a sum of 8 sinusoids. The eccentricity of Earth over 800 thousand years, from the Laplace–Lagrange solution for all eight planets — the secular matrix built from the JPL masses and semi-major axes, symmetrised, and diagonalised by Jacobi rotations. It runs between 0.0035 and 0.0436, and it has no period, because it is a sum of 8 incommensurable frequencies. The two largest contributions to this planet are the modes at 3.73 and 7.33 arcseconds per year, drawn as the flat lines: those are constants, and everything moving in the figure is their beat. The check is the quadratic form ½ΣΛe², which a symmetric secular matrix conserves exactly and which drifts by 6.7e-16 across the whole interval — computed from the same curves the figure draws and from nothing the eigenvalues were fitted to. The true angular momentum deficit, Σ Λ(1 − √(1−e²)), drifts by 7.1e-4, and that difference is not an error either: the two agree only to fourth order in e, and Mercury at 0.206 supplies almost all of the gap. Orbits

No planet has an eccentricity of its own

Strip the short-period terms out of the planetary equations and what is left is a linear system. Its eigenvectors are modes of the whole solar system, and the number a catalogue quotes for a planet's eccentricity turns out to be a reading of a clock rather than a property of the planet.

5 transfers through the same two points in the same 1400 days. Time of flight against semi-major axis for every transfer through two points 135° apart at 1 and 1.524 AU, with the revolution count running from 0 to 2. Each count contributes two branches, and for N ≥ 1 the pair folds: the time has a minimum at a = 1.2426 AU for one revolution — only 2.2 per cent above the minimum-energy value of 1.2161, which is why the horizontal axis is the excess over that value and logarithmic — so a flight time above it is met twice and below it not at all. Reading the crossings of the 1400-day line off the drawn curves gives 5 of them — 0 revs high, 1 rev low, 1 rev high, 2 revs low, 2 revs high — which is 2N + 1 with N = 2, and the count is a property of the time rather than of the geometry. That is the practical content: a root-finder started from a single guess returns one of these 5 and gives no sign that the other 4 exist, and the cheapest of them is often not the one nearest the guess. Orbits

One time of flight and five ways round

Lambert's theorem says two positions and an interval fix the transfer. Allow the transfer to complete whole revolutions and that stops being true: the flight time folds, one number admits five arcs, and the cheapest of them is usually not the one a solver started nearest to.

After one revolution the error is 3π times longer than it is wide, and after 300 it is 2827. The two semi-axes of a fitted orbit's position uncertainty, against elapsed revolutions, for a solution whose semi-major axis is uncertain by 12 kilometres. The radial extent does not grow at all: a body on a slightly larger orbit is slightly further out and stays so. The along-track extent grows linearly, because δn/n = −(3/2)δa/a makes a semi-major-axis error into a mean-motion error and a mean-motion error into a phase that runs away — a·δM = 3πN·δa after N revolutions. The ratio is 3π ≈ 9.42 after a single revolution and 2827 after 300, which is why an asteroid recovered after one apparition is found within a few arcseconds of its predicted place along its own track and could be a long way from it in time. Every consequence of this in practice — that an impact probability is a one-dimensional integral rather than a volume, that a keyhole is an interval, that the next observation worth taking is the one across the track rather than the one that fits best — is a restatement of these two lines diverging. Orbits

An error that is nearly all in one direction

A fitted orbit's uncertainty is not a ball. Within a few revolutions it has collapsed onto a line along the track, because an error in the size of an orbit is an error in its period and an error in period is a phase that runs away — which is why an impact probability is an integral along a curve rather than over a volume.

Every model curve has slope −1, and four measurements agree on κ to 1.5×. Semi-major-axis drift against body diameter, for a thermal recoil in which a fraction κ = 0.085 of the absorbed sunlight comes back out along-track. The three curves are the same expression at 1, 1.6, 2.5 astronomical units, and each has a slope of exactly −1: the acceleration is the absorbed power divided by the mass, which is a cross-section over a volume, so it falls as one over the size and nothing else on this axis changes it. A kilometre-wide body drifts a few metres a year; a ten-metre one drifts hundreds. The four filled marks are the bodies whose drift has actually been measured as a fitted parameter in an orbit solution, and they do not lie on any single curve because each carries its own density, distance and obliquity. What they agree about is the number beside each: solve every measured drift for the efficiency that would produce it and the four answers are 0.084, 0.085, 0.089, 0.129 — a factor of 1.5 apart, for a quantity that could in principle have been anything from zero to a fifth. That agreement is the evidence that the mechanism is understood, and it is the only evidence there is, because the thermal conductivity that sets κ has never been measured for any of them. Orbits

An orbit moved by heat

A rotating body re-radiates absorbed sunlight from the hemisphere that has had time to warm, so the recoil is not aimed at the Sun. The resulting force is a few parts in ten billion of gravity, it is the only orbital force whose sign depends on which way the body spins, and it has been measured to four figures.

The divisor is 0.129″/yr and the theory's own error is 0.24. Six frequencies of the secular solar system on one logarithmic axis, in arcseconds per year. The top two are the pair whose near-equality is the whole story: the perihelia of Mercury and Jupiter separate at 1.333″ a year, the nodes of Mercury and Venus at 1.462, and the difference of those two differences is 0.129 — a resonant argument that turns once every 10.0 million years. A term with that argument in the disturbing function acts in one direction for five million years at a stretch, which is what pumps Mercury's eccentricity, and it is the reason the inner solar system's Lyapunov time is what it is. The bottom three bars are why this figure exists. The divisor is smaller than the corrections the theory that computes it leaves out. Relativity contributes 0.4298″ a year to g₁ alone — the same 43 arcseconds a century that broke Newtonian gravity — which is 3.3 times the divisor; the fourth-order terms in the eccentricity that Laplace–Lagrange truncates come to about 0.24″, which is 1.8 times it; and the second-order solution computed on this page gets 0.35″, missing the published value by more than the value itself. A theory cannot bound what it cannot resolve. Laplace's proof that the eccentricities stay bounded is a proof about a system whose frequencies are constants, and the frequency that decides the question is not one. Orbits

The bound that holds only in the linear theory

Laplace proved the planetary eccentricities bounded, and the proof is a proof about a linearised system with constant frequencies. One combination of those frequencies is nearly zero — and it is smaller than the terms the linearisation threw away, which is why the stability of the solar system is a probability rather than a theorem.

Two bodies at a mass ratio of 3 to 1. Both bodies orbit their common centre of mass, on similar ellipses whose sizes are in inverse proportion to the masses — here 3 to 1, so the heavier body's path is 3 times smaller. Gravitation

Neither body is still, and the wobble is how planets are found

A planet does not orbit its star. Both orbit a point between them, and the star's share of that motion is small, measurable, and the reason thousands of planets are known.

Why a shell pulls a point inside it not at all. A double cone from a point inside a uniform shell. In the narrow-cone limit the far patch is 2.80 times further away and 2.80 times wider — the same number, checked to a part in a thousand before this figure is drawn. Its mass is greater by the square of that ratio and its pull weaker by the same square, so the two cancel in every direction. Gravitation

A sphere pulls exactly like a point, and the proof is a pair of cones

Every orbit ever computed treats the Sun as a dot. That is not an approximation — for a spherical body it is exact, and the reason is a cancellation between two patches of a shell.

The tidal field is a difference. The pull of a distant body at each point of a sphere, minus its pull at the sphere's centre. What remains stretches along the line to the source and squeezes across it — two bulges, not one. Gravitation

The tide is a difference, which is why there are two of them

The Moon pulls the ocean toward it. That explains one bulge. The second one, on the far side, is the whole of the physics — and it comes from subtracting.

The five Lagrange points at mass fraction 0.12. The five points at which a small body can keep station with two larger ones. The three on the line of centres are roots of a quintic and are unstable; the two forming equilateral triangles are stable for a sufficiently lopsided mass ratio. Gravitation

Five places that keep station, in a problem with no solution

Three bodies under gravity cannot be solved. Restrict the problem slightly and five exact answers fall out anyway — three of them roots of a quintic, two of them perfect equilateral triangles.

The two-body problem, and the one-body problem it is. Left: two bodies with mass ratio 0.4 on ellipses of eccentricity 0.5 about their common barycentre, the heavier one on the smaller orbit. Right: the same system as one body of the reduced mass on a single ellipse of the same eccentricity about a fixed centre, at the separation of the two. The right-hand curve is the point-by-point difference of the two left-hand curves, so the substitution is drawn rather than asserted. Gravitation

Two bodies replaced by one that does not exist

The two-body problem is solved by turning it into a one-body problem about a fixed centre. The substitution is not an approximation — it is exact, and the body it invents has a mass no object in the system has.

The tide across a moon, against the moon's own gravity. The tidal acceleration across a satellite and the satellite's own surface gravity, both in units of that surface gravity, against distance from the primary in planet radii. The tide falls as the inverse cube and the self-gravity does not fall at all, so they cross once — at 2.23 radii for the density ratio drawn. Inside the crossing the tide wins and a body held together only by its own weight comes apart. Gravitation

The distance at which a moon stops holding together

The tide across a body falls as the inverse cube; the body's own gravity does not fall at all. There is therefore exactly one crossing, and Saturn's rings end within a few per cent of it.

Three bodies, integrated. Three equal masses integrated forward under mutual gravity: the figure-eight choreography — all three bodies on one closed curve. Every point is a step of the equations of motion, and the total energy is conserved to 2.5e-11 across the run. Gravitation

Three bodies, and what "no solution" actually means

The three-body problem is routinely called unsolvable. Trajectories are computed for it every day, exact periodic solutions are known, and both statements are true — the word is doing more work than it looks.

Zero-velocity curves, mass fraction 0.15. Level sets of the Jacobi constant in the frame that rotates with the two bodies. A particle with a given value of C is confined to the side of its own curve where the kinetic energy would be positive; as C falls the curves open, first at the inner point between the bodies, then behind the smaller one, and finally around the whole system. Gravitation

The curve that says where a body cannot go

The restricted three-body problem has no solution and one conserved quantity. That quantity is enough to draw a boundary the body can never cross — without integrating anything, without knowing where it started, and for all time.

The surface a star stops at. The equipotential through L₁ — the Roche lobe — at mass fractions 0.50, 0.20, 0.05, in the frame that rotates with the pair. Each is a level set of exactly the same function the zero-velocity curves are level sets of, at exactly the critical value, so nothing here is a new construction: the Roche lobe is the last closed equipotential, and it is closed only because the two lobes touch at a single point. Material that reaches that point is no longer bound to the star it came from, and it leaves through an opening of zero area. The lobes are drawn in the orbital plane; in three dimensions each is a teardrop, and its volume-equivalent radius is what "the size of a Roche lobe" means. As the mass ratio becomes extreme the smaller star's lobe shrinks towards it, which is why a white dwarf accreting from a companion has a lobe smaller than the Sun. Gravitation

The surface a star stops at

Around each star of a close pair there is a last closed equipotential, and the two touch at a single point. A star that swells to reach it hands its outer layers to its companion through an opening of zero area — and the transfer, once started, makes itself worse.

PSR B1913+16: 45 years of periastron arriving 88 seconds early. The cumulative shift of periastron passage for PSR B1913+16, Δt = ½(Ṗ_b/P_b)T², over 45 years from its discovery in 1975. The orbital period is 0.322997449 days and is measured to be shortening at 2.423e-12 seconds per second — a change in the twelfth decimal place, which over a career accumulates to 87.5 seconds. That is the whole reason the effect is measurable. Ṗ_b is taken here as a measured quantity and no radiated power is derived from it; the parabola is the general-relativistic prediction as published, and the points are that prediction scaled by the published ratio of observed to predicted decay, 0.997 ± 0.002 (Hulse & Taylor 1975; Weisberg & Huckins 2016), which is how the agreement is quoted. The error bars are drawn: at the last point the bar is 1.25 px tall against a dot 9 pixels across, so they are invisible, and their invisibility is the result. The campaign has run 45 years. Gravitation

An orbit measured to be shrinking

A 7.75-hour orbital period that shortens by 68 nanoseconds each turn is beyond any single measurement, and unmissable after fifty thousand of them, because the shift accumulates as the square of the elapsed time. Forty-five years of pulse arrival times have made it 87.5 seconds, which is why the rate is a measured quantity rather than an inferred one.

The Hill radius against the mass ratio, and where four planets keep their outermost moon. The Hill radius R_H = a(μ/3)^⅓ and the exact L₁ distance from the same quintic, both in units of the planet's own semi-major axis, against the mass ratio μ = m/(M+m) from 10⁻⁸ to 0.12. The two are the same line to the width of the stroke across the whole planetary range — the cube-root formula runs 0.33% short of the exact L₁ distance at the Earth's mass ratio and 10.0% short at the right-hand edge — so the departure between them is drawn on its own percentage scale at the right, which is the only place it can be seen. Below the curves are the numerically determined stability limits, 0.5 R_H for a prograde satellite and 0.7 R_H for a retrograde one, and the outermost known satellite of each of four planets, each at a Hill fraction computed from that planet's own mass and orbit: Moon 0.257, Sinope 0.451, Phoebe 0.198, Neso 0.424. Of the four, three are retrograde — Sinope, Phoebe, Neso — and they reach 0.451 of their planet's Hill radius against 0.257 for the one prograde satellite: 1.8 times as far out, in a diagram whose two stability limits stand in the ratio 0.7 to 0.5. No equilibrium argument predicts that, and it is what the drawing makes plain. Gravitation

The region a planet may keep a moon in

A satellite is not held by orbiting but by orbiting inside the radius at which the Sun's tidal field would take it away. That radius is the same distance the innermost Lagrange point sits at, asked a different question — and the boundary the sky actually respects is smaller, by a factor that depends on which way the moon is going round.

Forty-two minutes, from anywhere to anywhere. Left, the gravitational field inside the Earth: a straight line for a uniform sphere, because the enclosed mass grows as r³ and the field as r, and the PREM curve for the real one, which is nearly flat through the whole mantle at about 9.94 m/s² because the dense core is already all below. Right, what falls through it. A body dropped down a diametric tunnel through a uniform Earth executes simple harmonic motion with ω = √(g/R), reaching the far side in 42.2 minutes; a body dropped down a chord at 0.6 of the radius feels only the component along the tunnel, which is the same ω times a smaller distance, so it arrives in the same time from a shorter trip. The period does not contain the length of the tunnel, its direction, or where the body starts. And 2π/ω is also the period of a circular orbit grazing the surface, 84.3 minutes — the tunnel and the orbit are one ellipse, seen twice. The real Earth is not uniform and gets there in 38.2 minutes instead, which is the honest number and is 9% quicker. Gravitation

The tunnel that takes the same time from anywhere

Inside a uniform sphere the field grows in proportion to the distance from the centre, which is Hooke's law. A body dropped down any straight tunnel arrives in the same time — and that time is the period of an orbit skimming the surface.

Energy error over 240 revolutions, at one step size. The relative error in total energy against revolution number, for three integrators run on the same Kepler orbit at e = 0.5 with the same step of 200 per revolution. The exact energy is a constant, so every curve here is the method rather than the problem. Euler climbs steadily: its energy at the end is 106.5% wrong, and the orbit it draws has spiralled outwards. Runge–Kutta 4 begins 4.7e+2 times more accurate than leapfrog and ends at 2.22e-4, having grown by a factor of 10 across the run: the error is SECULAR. Leapfrog oscillates inside a band and stays there — worst error 2.62e-3, and the second half of the run is no worse than the first, which is measured here rather than claimed. That is the property that decides whether a five-billion-year integration means anything, and it is not accuracy: a symplectic method is the exact solution of a Hamiltonian a step-size away from the intended one, so its energy cannot wander, while a more accurate non-symplectic method has no such constraint and eventually wanders further. Gravitation

Wrong about where, and right about how much

Runge–Kutta is the more accurate method and loses energy steadily; leapfrog is cruder and its energy error never leaves a band. Over five billion years only one of those properties survives — and neither method knows where the planet is.

A body that heats up because it is losing energy. A uniform self-gravitating sphere of 1.0 solar masses radiating at 1.0 solar luminosities, with no nuclear source at all, from 3.0 solar radii. Everything is in units of the starting energy, and the two curves that matter run in opposite directions: the total energy falls, and the temperature rises. That is not a paradox and it is not a special case. The virial theorem makes 2K = −U for any self-gravitating gas in equilibrium, so E = U + K = −K, and −dE/dt = +dK/dt: energy leaving as light is energy arriving as heat. The bookkeeping is exact and is measured here rather than quoted — over the run 5.465·10⁴⁰ J of gravitational energy is released and 2.733·10⁴⁰ J is radiated, a ratio of 2.0000. Half the release is spent on the star's own heat and only half escapes. The consequence is a body with a negative heat capacity, which is why a contracting protostar gets hotter until it ignites, why a globular cluster's core runs away instead of settling, and why nothing self-gravitating ever comes to thermal equilibrium. Gravitation

The system that gets hotter as it loses energy

The virial theorem makes a self-gravitating body's total energy equal to minus its kinetic energy. Radiating heat away therefore raises the temperature, there is no equilibrium to settle into, and every star and every cluster is running away from one.

A separation of 10⁻¹⁰ becomes 0.0285. The distance between two copies of Burrau's problem, started 10⁻¹⁰ apart in one coordinate of one body and then stepped in lockstep — one loop, one step size, both states advanced by it — for 60 time units. The vertical axis is logarithmic, so the straight stretch is exponential growth, and its slope is the Lyapunov exponent: 0.3413 per time unit, fitted over the 604 samples lying between ten times the starting offset and a tenth of the system's own size. That is an e-folding every 2.93 time units, so the separation multiplies by ten every 6.75 and by 7.8·10⁸ across the whole run. It has not saturated within the drawn interval: the growth rate over the last tenth of the run is still 0.6002 per time unit, 176% of the fitted exponent, and the separation has reached only 0.90% of the system's own size. The exponent is what sets a prediction horizon, and this run is drawn short of it on purpose: the straight line is the measurement, and the flat part that follows is arithmetic about how far apart two bounded systems can get. Gravitation

A prediction with an expiry date

The inner solar system's Lyapunov time is about five million years, so a centimetre of error becomes an orbit in a hundred million. The ephemeris dies while the system survives — because the elements stay bounded when the phase does not, and only one of those is what stability means.

The contours a planetary encounter cannot cross. Contours of the Tisserand parameter with respect to Jupiter in the plane of semi-major axis and eccentricity, drawn for a coplanar orbit. An encounter with Jupiter moves a comet along one of these curves and never across one, because T is what the encounter conserves. The heavy contours are at T = 3 and T = 2, and they are the boundaries the comet families are defined by: T > 3 means no encounter is possible at all, since v∞²/v_J² = 3 − T and a negative squared speed is not a trajectory; 2 < T < 3 is the Jupiter family; below 2 the approach speed exceeds Jupiter's own orbital speed and the orbits are the nearly isotropic ones. The shaded boundary is the crossing condition — an orbit whose pericentre is outside Jupiter's, or whose apocentre is inside it, never meets the planet whatever its T. The five comets are placed at their JPL elements and labelled with the T the literature quotes; all five with inclination sit off the coplanar contours by exactly the cos i in the definition, which is why 1P/Halley's is negative — a retrograde orbit meets Jupiter at nearly twice Jupiter's speed. Gravitation

The number that survives the encounter

A comet that passes Jupiter comes away with every orbital element changed. One combination of them is not changed, and it is enough to recognise the comet afterwards, to sort the comet families, and to say where a spacecraft can and cannot go.

An average that arrives, and a snapshot that never does. 2T/|U| against time for Burrau's problem — three masses released from rest, and never repeating, in two forms: the instantaneous ratio, and the ratio of the running time-averages. The instantaneous one runs between 0.03 and 1.97 — the system is a long way from equilibrium at almost every moment, because the bodies are alternately falling together and flying apart. The averaged one settles: after 50 time units it is 1.0142, against the exact 1 the virial theorem requires of any bound system. This system is not periodic and is not even permanently bound — Burrau's problem ejects its lightest body — so the average is drifting rather than converged, and that is the theorem's own condition made visible: it is a statement about bound systems and says nothing about anything that is leaving. What the figure cannot show is the error: a cluster observed once gives 2T/|U| with a scatter of this size, and what makes its mass believable is not the measurement but the relaxation. Gravitation

An average that weighs what cannot be watched

A cluster's mass can be had from its speeds alone — no orbit followed, no period observed, no distance to any single star. The theorem that allows it is an average over time, which is exactly what a photograph is not.

The wake, computed from the streamlines that make it. Left: 26 streamlines past a point mass, in the mass's own frame, each integrated from far upstream with the same speed and a different impact parameter, and mirrored about the axis. Nothing is drawn to converge — every track is the hyperbola its own impact parameter gives it, and they cross downstream because an attraction focuses. Right: the density that focusing produces at 3.2 focusing radii behind the mass, as (b/y)(db/dy) — the Jacobian of the map from starting radius to arrival radius — which peaks at 15.53 times the background at 0.03 radii off the axis. The overdensity is behind the mass, and that is the entire mechanism: the wake pulls backwards on the body that made it. What the figure cannot show is the steady state, because it has no time in it: a real wake is continuously replenished, and the drag is the sum over an infinite train of these encounters, which is where Chandrasekhar's logarithm comes from. Gravitation

A drag with nothing to drag against

A massive body moving through a sea of light ones raises an overdensity behind itself and is pulled back by it. The force does not depend on the masses of the background bodies at all — and it is strongest at one particular speed.

The last curve across the cylinder, before and after it breaks. Surfaces of section for the standard map at K = 0.5, 0.9716, 1.4, each 22 trajectories iterated 41 times from a column of starting values. Nothing here is placed: every dot is an iterate. At K = 0.5 the islands are separate and the space between them is filled with curves that run all the way round in θ — a trajectory cannot get from one island to the next, and one started beside the hyperbolic fixed point wanders 2.91 in p — 0.46 of a cylinder — and stops. At K = 0.9716, which is Greene's threshold to four figures, the last of those curves is on the point of going and the same trajectory still only reaches 4.84, which is 0.77 of a cylinder. At K = 1.4 it covers 6.1 cylinders: the barrier is gone and there is nothing left to stop it. That transition is what a chaotic zone in the asteroid belt is, drawn without any asteroids. Gravitation

Where the chaos comes from

A Lyapunov time says how long a prediction lasts. It does not say what destroyed it. The mechanism is two resonances whose libration widths overlap, and the transition can be watched happening on a surface of section as one number is turned up.

Three orders of magnitude in astronomical units, and a factor of 9.6 in mutual Hill radii. Every adjacent pair of planets in three systems, plotted by the separation between them measured in their own mutual Hill radius, ((m₁+m₂)/3M⋆)^⅓ · (a₁+a₂)/2. In astronomical units the same 17 separations span a factor of 2554 — from 0.0043 AU between two TRAPPIST-1 planets to 10.9 between Uranus and Neptune — and carry no visible structure at all. In this unit they span 9.6, with a median of 11.8. The solid line at 2√3 = 3.46 is a theorem: two planets on circular coplanar orbits wider apart than that can never have a close encounter, whatever else happens, and every pair here is clear of it. The dashed line at 10 is a fit, to integrations of systems of several planets over billions of years, and it is the one that bites — a system packed tighter than about ten does not survive, which is why the observed distribution has a floor there and not at the theorem. A planetary system's spacing is not measured in kilometres. It is measured in a unit the planets define. Gravitation

A feeding zone, and the spacing it forces

The radius that decides what a planet may keep also decides what it could reach while it was growing — and measuring the gaps between planets in that unit turns a distribution spanning three orders of magnitude in astronomical units into a band a factor of ten wide, with a floor that is partly a theorem and partly a fit.

7 decades of relaxation time, and a Hubble time between them. Crossing time and two-body relaxation time for 5 self-gravitating systems, against the number of bodies in each. The lower marks are the crossing time R/σ, which spans 3 decades; the upper ones are t_relax ≈ 0.1N/ln N times it, which spans 8. The horizontal rule is a Hubble time, and the same expression puts these systems on opposite sides of it. Two of them relax — an open cluster and a globular cluster — so their stars have exchanged energy, their heavy stars have sunk, and their present structure is not the one they were born with. The rest do not: a dwarf spheroidal, an elliptical galaxy, a cluster of galaxies, the elliptical missing it by a factor of 10⁶, which is why a galaxy is modelled as a smooth potential with no stars in it at all. The dependence is on N and hardly at all on anything else, because the Coulomb logarithm makes every decade of impact parameter contribute equally. A cluster that relaxes also evaporates: about a stellar mass in a hundred and forty leaves per relaxation time, so the globular cluster empties in 6.1·10¹¹ years. Gravitation

How long a system takes to forget

A star crossing a galaxy is deflected by every other star, and the deflections add as a random walk. The time for that walk to change a star's energy by its own amount is a hundred million billion years for a galaxy and a billion for a globular cluster, and everything about how the two are modelled follows from which side of a Hubble time that falls on.

Io's measured heat needs k₂/Q = 0.016, and Enceladus's needs 0.011. Tidal surface heat flux against orbital eccentricity, from Ė = (21/2)(k₂/Q)GM_p²R⁵ne²/a⁶ evaluated at each satellite's own orbit, drawn at a common k₂/Q of 0.015. Every line has slope 2 because the dissipation is quadratic in e and nothing else on this axis varies. The filled marks are each body at its actual eccentricity; the two ringed ones are the bodies with a measured surface heat flux, and they are the only points here that are observations. Solving each of those for k₂/Q gives 0.016 for Io and 0.011 for Enceladus — within a factor of 1.5 of one another, for a warm silicate body and a 500-kilometre ball of ice, which ought to be a coincidence and is instead the sharpest problem in the subject: nothing about Enceladus's ice can plausibly dissipate at 0.011, and the number is what the heat requires all the same. The dashed line is the Earth's measured surface heat flux, 0.087 W/m², which Io exceeds by a factor of 28 — the most volcanically active body in the solar system is the fourth largest moon of the fifth planet, and the reason is entirely in the orbit. Gravitation

A moon heated by not being allowed to relax

Tidal dissipation goes as the square of an eccentricity that tides themselves destroy, so a moon radiating tidal heat is spending something it cannot have saved. Io's would be gone in a hundred and forty thousand years, and the resonance that keeps putting it back is the reason there are volcanoes.

GW150914: 33 Hz to 250 Hz in 0.22 seconds. The strain of GW150914 — two black holes — through the last 0.22 seconds before merger, computed from the quadrupole sweep at the chirp mass its fit returned, 28.716 solar masses, and drawn at the luminosity distance it returned, 440 megaparsecs. Two things rise together and neither is free to rise on its own: the frequency goes from 33 Hz to 250 Hz, and the envelope — the outer curve — grows by a factor of 3.9, because the amplitude goes as f^2/3 and nothing else in it changes over so short a span. The vertical axis is in units of 10⁻²¹, so the peak here is a fractional length change of about 2.9·10⁻²¹: over the four kilometres of an interferometer arm that is 1.2·10⁻¹⁷ metres, a thousandth of the width of a proton. The chirp mass is not fitted to the amplitude at all — it comes from the spacing of these zero crossings, which is why it is the best-determined number in the whole event and why the distance, which does come from the amplitude, is the worst. Gravitation

A distance with no ladder under it

The frequency sweep of an inspiral fixes the chirp mass with no distance in it, and the amplitude then gives the luminosity distance directly, because one expression fixes both. That is a distance measured with nothing calibrated beneath it — and its error budget is one angle.

Nothing visible in any pulsar, and a quadrupole in the angle between them. Above: 4 millisecond pulsars' timing residuals over 15 years, at the few hundred nanoseconds a good one reaches. Each wanders, and none of them shows anything a reader could call a signal; a gravitational-wave background of amplitude 2.4·10⁻¹⁵ at one cycle per year contributes a common part to all of them that is smaller than each pulsar's own red noise. Below: the correlation between pairs, against the angle on the sky between them. 2211 pairs out of 67 pulsars, binned into 15 angles, against three curves with no free parameters between them. A quadrupolar background gives the Hellings–Downs shape — positive for nearby pulsars, negative near 83°, and back up to exactly half its zero-separation value at 180° because a background looks the same in opposite directions. An error in the observatory clock would give a flat line, because it shifts every pulsar identically. An error in the solar-system ephemeris would give a cosine, because it moves the barycentre in one direction. The drawn points prefer the quadrupole over the flat line by Δχ² = 358. That is the detection: not a waveform, not an event, not a moment — a shape in an angle, accumulated over fifteen years, on data taken for another purpose entirely. Gravitation

A detector the size of the galaxy

At a nanohertz no instrument can be built, so the clocks already in the sky are used instead. The signal is in no single pulsar's data — it is in the correlation between pairs as a function of the angle between them, and that curve has no free parameters at all.

The adaptive step starts 5.7× more accurate and ends 7.5× worse. The envelope of the relative energy error against elapsed revolutions — the worst error within each plotted interval rather than the error at one sample in it — for the same second-order symplectic integrator run two ways on a Kepler orbit at e = 0.5. The flat band is a fixed step of one 200th of a period: its error oscillates once per revolution and the envelope does not grow, because a symplectic method at constant h is the exact solution of a nearby Hamiltonian and is conserving that one. The rising curve is the same method with the step refined where the orbit is fast — h ∝ r^3/2, the free-fall time, varying by a factor of 5 around the orbit — which is the first thing anybody reaches for at a close encounter and which is strictly more accurate step for step: over its first three revolutions it stays a factor of 5.7 below the fixed run. By 1500 revolutions it is a factor of 7.5 above it and still climbing. Changing the step changes which Hamiltonian is being conserved, the errors from successive steps stop cancelling, and what is left is a random walk with no bound at all. The practical consequence is that a solar-system integration cannot adapt its step: it either keeps a step short enough for the closest encounter it will ever meet, or it detects the encounter and hands that piece of the trajectory to an entirely different, non-symplectic method for the duration — which is what every long-term integration of the planets actually does. Gravitation

A step that must not be adapted

A symplectic integrator's bounded energy error is a property of a fixed step. It is conserving a Hamiltonian a step-size away from the intended one, and changing the step changes which Hamiltonian — so refining the step at a close encounter, which is the first thing anybody does, destroys the only property the method was chosen for.

A wave whose crests count out 35 kilograms per square metre of ring. Optical depth across a spiral density wave in Saturn's A ring, drawn outwards from the 5:3 inner Lindblad resonance with Mimas at 131,988 km. The wave is launched at the resonance on the left and damps away to the right. Its wavelength is not constant: it starts at about 5.6 km and has shortened to 1.13 km by the last crest drawn, because the wavenumber grows in proportion to the distance from resonance and the ring's own self-gravity is the only restoring force in the dispersion relation. That makes the pattern a chirp with exactly one unknown in it. Fitting the 24 crest positions actually drawn here — the square of each one's distance from resonance against its number, which is a straight line — returns a surface density of 35.0 kilograms per square metre against the 35 the profile was built from. The rings have been weighed this way rather than by anything touching them: the mass per unit area follows from counting bright bands in a light curve as a star sets behind the ring. Gravitation

A ring weighed by the wave crossing it

Saturn's rings are a few tens of metres thick and spread over an area larger than the Earth, made of pieces nobody can resolve, and nothing has ever landed on them. Their mass per unit area is nevertheless known to a few per cent — from the rate at which the crests of a wave crowd together as it travels outwards.

One measured number, and every pair of masses that produces it. The plane of the two component masses of an inspiralling binary, with three curves of constant chirp mass across it. The middle one is GW150914's value of 28.7 solar masses, and the chirp mass recovered from the coordinates of the drawn curve varies along its whole length by 7.4e-14 per cent — which is the point: every binary on that line radiates the same frequency sweep at leading order, so the early inspiral cannot tell them apart. Two of them are marked. An equal pair of 33.0 and 33.0 solar masses and a lopsided pair of 63.6 and 18.4 sit on the same contour, and their total masses differ by a factor of 1.24. What separates them is the mass ratio, which enters the phasing only at the first post-Newtonian order, suppressed by the square of the orbital speed in units of the speed of light — small through the hundreds of cycles that carry most of the signal, and appreciable only in the last few, where that speed approaches a third of c. So the chirp mass is a measurement and the individual masses are an inference from the end of the signal, which is exactly the part a detector's high-frequency noise eats first. Gravitation

One number where two masses were

The hundreds of orbits an inspiralling binary completes inside a detector's band depend on its two masses only through one combination of them. Every pair on that contour radiates an identical sweep, so the early signal — which carries nearly all the signal-to-noise — cannot say which pair it was.

7 decades of relaxation time, and a Hubble time between them. Crossing time and two-body relaxation time for 5 self-gravitating systems, against the number of bodies in each. The lower marks are the crossing time R/σ, which spans 3 decades; the upper ones are t_relax ≈ 0.1N/ln N times it, which spans 8. The horizontal rule is a Hubble time, and the same expression puts these systems on opposite sides of it. Two of them relax — an open cluster and a globular cluster — so their stars have exchanged energy, their heavy stars have sunk, and their present structure is not the one they were born with. The rest do not: a dwarf spheroidal, an elliptical galaxy, a cluster of galaxies, the elliptical missing it by a factor of 10⁶, which is why a galaxy is modelled as a smooth potential with no stars in it at all. The dependence is on N and hardly at all on anything else, because the Coulomb logarithm makes every decade of impact parameter contribute equally. A cluster that relaxes also evaporates: about a stellar mass in a hundred and forty leaves per relaxation time, so the globular cluster empties in 6.1·10¹¹ years. Gravitation

A cluster that boils itself away

A star cluster has no thermostat. Encounters between its members push a few of them above escape speed, the cluster loses them, and losing them makes it contract — which makes it hotter, which makes more of them escape. A self-gravitating system heats up as it loses energy, and the process ends by destroying the system.

The sub-Earth point over 400 days. Where on the Moon the Earth stands overhead, in selenographic longitude and latitude, sampled over 400 days. The excursion in longitude is the equation of centre — the Moon's rotation is uniform and its orbital motion is not, so the face runs alternately ahead and behind by up to 6.3° — and the excursion in latitude is the tilt of its equator, up to 6.7°. The two run on months of different length, so the track never repeats. The observed sky

The face that is not quite fixed

The Moon keeps one face turned toward the Earth, and the sentence is exactly true only of a fictitious Moon on a circular orbit. The real one rocks by a few degrees each month, in two directions and for two unrelated reasons, and the rocking has shown 59 per cent of its surface to people who never left the ground.

Two radial-velocity curves, and one mass ratio. The line-of-sight velocity of each star through one orbit of AI Phoenicis. Both curves are computed from the two masses and the period; what a spectrograph delivers is the reverse. The ratio of the amplitudes is the inverse ratio of the masses — 48.2 to 50.3 kilometres a second, so the heavier star moves more slowly — and the sum of the amplitudes with the period gives the mass sum, 2.437 solar masses, once the inclination is known from the eclipses. Stars

The only stars whose masses are known

A star's mass cannot be measured by looking at it. It can be measured by watching two stars pull on each other, and if the pair also eclipses, the same observations give both radii as well — with no stellar model anywhere in the chain. A few hundred such systems calibrate everything else.

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. Stars

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.

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. Stars

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.

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. Stars

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.

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. Stars

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.

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. Stars

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.

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. Spaceflight

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.

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. Spaceflight

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.

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. Spaceflight

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.

How small a sphere of influence is. Each planet's sphere of influence as a fraction of its own orbital radius, against that radius, both logarithmic. The largest belongs to Jupiter at 6.19% and the smallest to Mercury at 0.194%. The patched-conic method treats a trajectory as heliocentric everywhere outside these, and the figure is the argument for why that costs so little: they are thousandths of the journey. Spaceflight

One trajectory, stitched from three two-body problems

An interplanetary flight is a problem with no closed solution. It is flown by cutting it into pieces that each have one, and the seams are places where the model is knowingly false.

Along a contour is free; across one costs, and 6 resonances sit on this one. Perihelion against aphelion, in units of Jupiter's orbit, with contours of constant v∞ — which is the Tisserand parameter through v∞² = (3 − T)v_p². Every contour crosses the line r_p = r_a = 1, because a spacecraft has to be at the planet's orbit to have an encounter there at all, and every point on one contour is reachable from every other point on it with no propellant: a flyby rotates the v∞ vector without changing its length, which moves the pump angle and slides the spacecraft along the curve. A burn is the only thing that moves it between curves, and that is the whole economy of a gravity-assist tour. The diagonals are resonant orbits — 1:1, 3:2, 2:1, 5:2, 3:1, 4:1 with the planet — and each is a straight line of slope −1 because a resonance fixes the semi-major axis and r_p + r_a = 2a. They matter because a spacecraft on one comes back to the same place at the same time as the planet, which is what makes a second encounter possible without waiting for a chance alignment. The marked points are where the v∞ = 0.3 contour meets each: a tour is a walk along the highlighted curve from one to the next, and the arithmetic that decides whether it can be walked is the turn one flyby delivers. At 1.35 Jupiter radii and 3.9 km s⁻¹ that turn is 163°, so the longest step drawn here needs 0.1 encounters — which is why a real tour has dozens of flybys and why the ones with the largest steps are the ones that need a deep-space manoeuvre in between. Spaceflight

The same planet, three times

A flyby cannot change the encounter speed, only its direction, so a tour has to be designed in the space of what is conserved. One pass moves a spacecraft along a single curve and no further than the planet can bend it — and reaching a distant target means walking that curve, returning to the same planet again and again.

What a 1 km/s burn is worth, against where it is spent. A vehicle arriving at Jupiter with an excess speed of 5.6 km/s, burning 1 km/s along its velocity at one point of the hyperbola. The vertical axis is the excess speed it leaves with. Spent at the surface the burn is worth 12.33 km/s of departure speed; spent far away it is worth 7.20. The energy bought is v·Δv, so the same propellant is worth 5.9 times as much at the bottom of the well — and nothing about the rocket has changed. Spaceflight

The same burn is worth more when moving fast

A rocket firing for ten seconds delivers the same change of speed wherever it is. It does not deliver the same change of energy, because energy is quadratic in speed — so the identical burn buys six times as much at the bottom of a gravity well as at the top, and every escape manoeuvre ever flown is arranged around that fact.

What 28.5° of plane change costs, at three orbital speeds. The cost of rotating an orbital plane, 2v sin(Δi/2), against the angle turned, for the three speeds a transfer to geostationary orbit passes through: 7.669 km/s in a 400 km circular orbit, 3.075 km/s once circular at 42,164 km, and 1.618 km/s at the apogee of the ellipse between them. All three are √(μ/r) or vis-viva at μ⊕ = 398,600 km³/s². A 28.5° turn therefore costs 3.775, 1.514 or 0.797 km/s depending only on where it is done — the apogee figure is 21% of the low one, and that fraction is the speed ratio, so it is the same at every angle. Past 23.9° a turn in the low orbit costs more than the 3.176 km/s that leaves Earth from it, and a full reversal costs 2v = 15.34 km/s, 4.8 times the escape burn. Spaceflight

The cheapest place to turn

Rotating an orbital plane costs 2v sin(Δi/2), and the only quantity in that expression that a mission controls is the speed. Where the turn is made therefore matters more than how far it turns.

Two outcomes, and a boundary with no width. 26 trajectories launched from one point beyond L₂, all at the one speed the Jacobi constant C = 3.5124 permits there, differing only in the direction they set off in. The heavy curve is the zero-velocity boundary at that constant — the region no trajectory of this energy may enter — and it is open at L₂ by the neck the trajectories are aimed at. 11 of the 26 pass through into the secondary's realm and 15 turn back, and they are not interleaved — sweeping the launch direction through 65° finds one changeover and nothing in between. Bisecting the first of them pins it to 2.6e-12 radians, and the integrator runs out of digits before the boundary runs out of sharpness. That surface is the tube. It is the stable manifold of the periodic orbit about L₂, it separates transit from non-transit everywhere and not only in this fan, and a mission that wants to arrive for nothing has to be put inside it. Spaceflight

The tube that leads out of a neck

Below a certain energy the forbidden region opens at a Lagrange point, and a trajectory may pass. Which ones do is decided by a surface with no width at all — and two tubes that meet give a transfer that costs nothing at the join.

A burn along the track moves the chaser 8330 m backwards. Three 0.5 m/s impulses from rest alongside a target in a 400 km circular orbit, followed for 2 revolutions in the frame riding on the target. Along-track distance runs across the page with the direction of travel to the left, and radial distance up. The prograde burn ends 8330 metres behind after one revolution — exactly 6πΔv/n, and it is behind rather than ahead because the burn raised the orbit and a higher orbit takes longer. The retrograde burn ends 8330 metres ahead by the same arithmetic with the sign reversed. The radial burn is the third case and the strange one: it opens a closed loop and returns exactly to where it started after a revolution, having gone nowhere at a cost of 0.5 m/s. That is not a curiosity but the basis of the R-bar approach, in which a vehicle closes on a station from below along a path that costs nothing to abandon. Spaceflight

A burn that moves the wrong way

In the frame riding on an orbiting target, a thrust along the direction of travel leaves a chaser eight kilometres behind after one lap, a radial thrust returns it exactly to where it started, and every free relative orbit is the same ellipse — twice as long along the track as it is across.

Along a contour is free; across one costs, and 6 resonances sit on this one. Perihelion against aphelion, in units of Jupiter's orbit, with contours of constant v∞ — which is the Tisserand parameter through v∞² = (3 − T)v_p². Every contour crosses the line r_p = r_a = 1, because a spacecraft has to be at the planet's orbit to have an encounter there at all, and every point on one contour is reachable from every other point on it with no propellant: a flyby rotates the v∞ vector without changing its length, which moves the pump angle and slides the spacecraft along the curve. A burn is the only thing that moves it between curves, and that is the whole economy of a gravity-assist tour. The diagonals are resonant orbits — 1:1, 3:2, 2:1, 5:2, 3:1, 4:1 with the planet — and each is a straight line of slope −1 because a resonance fixes the semi-major axis and r_p + r_a = 2a. They matter because a spacecraft on one comes back to the same place at the same time as the planet, which is what makes a second encounter possible without waiting for a chance alignment. The marked points are where the v∞ = 0.3 contour meets each: a tour is a walk along the highlighted curve from one to the next, and the arithmetic that decides whether it can be walked is the turn one flyby delivers. At 1.35 Jupiter radii and 3.9 km s⁻¹ that turn is 163°, so the longest step drawn here needs 0.1 encounters — which is why a real tour has dozens of flybys and why the ones with the largest steps are the ones that need a deep-space manoeuvre in between. Spaceflight

A map of the transfers that are free

Drawn as contours of perihelion against aphelion, the invariant that survives an encounter becomes a map. A flyby slides a spacecraft along its own contour and costs nothing; a burn is the only thing that moves it between contours — so tour design is reading a graph.

An eight-hour pass, and a 351 m s⁻¹ sinusoid that is the whole of the angle. Above: the range rate a two-way Doppler measurement returns over one pass from Goldstone, for a spacecraft receding at 14.6 km s⁻¹. Nothing here is an angle. The measurement is the fractional shift of a carrier the spacecraft coherently turned around and sent back, and its interpretation is that the distance is changing at some rate. Below: the same data with the spacecraft's own smooth signature removed. What is left is a sinusoid of exactly one cycle per day — the station's own motion, carried east at 379 metres a second by the rotation of the Earth, projected onto the line of sight. Its amplitude is that speed times cos δ and returns a declination of 22.0°; its zero crossing is the moment the spacecraft passed the meridian and returns the right ascension. The Earth's rotation is the interferometer. With Doppler good to 0.05 mm s⁻¹ at a 60-second cadence, 480 samples fit that amplitude to 0.003 mm s⁻¹ and the declination to 23 nanoradians — which is 4.7 milliarcseconds, from an instrument with no image plane and no angular resolution of any kind. What the picture cannot show is the part that makes this hard in practice: the spacecraft's own signature is not a straight line but a trajectory with unmodelled accelerations in it, and separating a slow non-gravitational force from a slow drift in the angles is the whole art of the fit. Spaceflight

A position measured from a frequency

A spacecraft is unresolvable and unreachable, and everything known about where it is comes from two scalars — a round-trip light time and a Doppler shift. Neither is an angle. The orbit solution returns two angles anyway, because the antenna is bolted to a rotating planet.

A nanosecond across the Earth is 35.69 nanoradians on the sky. The angular accuracy of a differenced-delay measurement against the length of the baseline it is measured on, both axes logarithmic, for three levels of delay precision. The relation is σ_θ = cσ_τ/B and nothing else, so every curve is a straight line of slope −1.00: the only two ways to measure an angle better are a better clock or a wider Earth, and only one of those is available. The three marked baselines are the ones that exist — the deep-space complexes in California, Spain and Australia, 8,400, 10,600, 11,700 kilometres apart. On the longest of them a delay good to 0.05 nanoseconds is 1.28 nanoradians, which at 0.52 astronomical units is 100 metres across the line of sight; a more typical 0.15-nanosecond measurement on the shortest baseline is 5.35 nanoradians. What makes any of this survivable is that the same pair of antennas observes a quasar a few degrees away immediately afterwards. The quasar is at infinity, its position is known better than the measurement, and subtracting its delay from the spacecraft's removes the clock offsets, the water vapour over each dish and the station coordinates in one step — so the number that comes out is not a delay at all but an angular separation from a fixed point in the sky. Spaceflight

An angle measured against a quasar

A tracking station measures how fast a spacecraft is receding, which is one number where three are wanted. The two missing angles come from the Earth's rotation, slowly, and near a planetary encounter there is no time for slowly — so the position is instead measured directly, as a difference of arrival times between two antennas, referred to a quasar a few degrees away.

A fold 0.06 Einstein times wide, and two configurations that make the same one. A binary lens of mass ratio 0.003 at a projected separation of 1.5 Einstein radii. Top left: the source plane, with the caustic — the set of source positions at which the magnification is formally infinite — and the track of a background star across it. A single lens has no such curve; it magnifies smoothly and diverges only at one point. A second mass makes the lens mapping fold, and the fold has edges: crossing one, the number of images changes from 3 to 5, because a pair is created out of nothing on the critical curve. The small closed curve near the origin is the central caustic, always there; the larger one at 0.83 Einstein radii is the planetary caustic, and its distance from the origin is s − 1/s, which is where the planet's own image lies. Top right: the central caustic drawn twice, once for s = 1.5 and once for s = 0.667. They are 0.0184 and 0.0169 Einstein radii across and they lie on top of each other. That is not a coincidence of these numbers: to the order that a central-caustic anomaly is measured, a close binary and a wide one with the reciprocal separation produce the same perturbation, so an event with only a central anomaly returns two separations and no way to choose. Below: the light curve along the track. The smooth part is what a single lens of the same total mass would do; the spikes are the two crossings, 0.06 Einstein times apart, so a few hours inside an event lasting a month. The two curves differ in one thing only — the size of the source. A point source diverges at each fold and reaches 27; a source of angular radius 0.006 Einstein radii averages over its own disc and reaches 9 — an eighth of a source radius inside the fold the two are 8 and 4, with the divergence replaced by a rounded shoulder whose width is the source's own diameter. Everywhere else in this collection the finite size of a star is a nuisance that degrades a measurement. Here it is the ruler: the fold is a straight edge of known sharpness sweeping across a disc, so the shape of that shoulder gives the source's angular radius, and dividing it by the crossing time gives the angular Einstein radius — which is the one quantity a light curve otherwise cannot supply. Exoplanets

A light curve with a fold in it

A single lens magnifies smoothly. A second mass makes the lens mapping fold, and a fold has an edge — a curve across which two images appear out of nothing and the magnification formally diverges. Crossing it turns the finite size of the source star from a nuisance into a ruler.

The wobble of a star with a circular companion. The star's velocity along the line of sight, over two orbits, computed from the companion's orbit. A circular orbit gives a sine wave; an eccentric one gives a skewed curve whose shape encodes the eccentricity. Exoplanets

The star moves, and the mass is a lower bound

A planet is found by watching its star fall towards it. The wobble gives a mass multiplied by the sine of an angle nobody has measured — and the shortfall is not a rounding error.

Mass against radius, and what lies between the curves. Planetary radius against mass on logarithmic axes, in Earth units, with composition curves computed from interior models rather than drawn through the points. The solid-planet curves are R ∝ M^(1/3.7) — flatter than a constant density because a heavier planet compresses itself — and the hydrogen curve turns over near three Jupiter masses, where degeneracy pressure takes over and adding mass makes the planet smaller. A mass alone or a radius alone places a planet on a line; only both together place it between two curves, and that is the whole argument for measuring a planet twice. Exoplanets

Two methods, and one density

A transit gives a radius. A wobble gives a mass. Neither says what a planet is made of, and the two together say it in one number — which is the only reason both are worth doing on the same object.

A 6.2 m s⁻¹ signal at the rotation period, made by no planet at all. Above: the apparent radial velocity of a star carrying one dark spot over 0.4 per cent of its disc, rotating with an equatorial velocity of 3.2 km s⁻¹, over 3 rotations — and beside it a circular-orbit planet of the same period fitted to the same amplitude, 6.2 metres a second. That amplitude is several times the precision of a modern spectrograph and squarely inside the range in which warm sub-Neptunes are claimed, so the two are competing on equal terms. The spot signal is not a sinusoid: the spot is in view for half the rotation and hidden for the other half, so the curve is truncated, and its power at half the period is 1.16 of its power at the period. A Keplerian orbit at the same period has none there at all. Below: the diagnostic that actually settles it. A planet moves the whole spectrum bodily, so every line keeps its shape and the bisector — the locus of midpoints up a line profile — does not move; a spot removes light from one side of the profile, so the bisector tilts in step with the velocity and against it. The two clouds correlate at -0.92 and 0.14. What the picture cannot show is why this took so long to become routine: measuring a bisector to a few metres a second needs a signal-to-noise ratio of several hundred per spectrum, so for two decades the diagnostic existed and could not be applied to the faint stars the interesting claims were about. Exoplanets

A planet that was the star's own rotation

A dark spot rotating across a star removes light from the approaching limb and then the receding one, and the line centroid moves. That is several metres a second at the rotation period, from no planet at all — and two of the most celebrated nearby planets were withdrawn on exactly this evidence.

Everything close in is circular, and nothing else has to be. Orbital eccentricity against period for fifteen real planets, with the tidal circularisation boundary computed from τ_e = (2/21)(Q′/n)(M_p/M⋆)(a/R_p)⁵ for a Jupiter with Q′ = 1e+6 and an age of 3 billion years. It falls at 4.5 days, and the reason it is a wall rather than a slope is the fifth power: at half the period the timescale is 91 times shorter. Nothing inside it has a measurable eccentricity, and outside it eccentricities run to 0.95 — which is the number to hold on to, because a planet on a 0.93 orbit at 111 days comes within 0.030 AU of its star at periastron, closer than Mercury, and is being circularised as it is observed. Exoplanets

A planet where one cannot form

A Jupiter at four days orbits inside a region that was too hot to hold ice and too small to hold the material. It did not form there — and the distribution of eccentricities says which of two journeys brought it in.

Libration and circulation of a resonant angle. The critical angle of a resonance over time, integrated from the pendulum equation it obeys. Below the separatrix the angle oscillates about a fixed value — the body is locked; above it, the angle runs without bound and the body is not. Exoplanets

A chain that could not have been assembled in place

Seven planets whose successive period ratios are all close to small whole numbers. Capture into a resonance requires the orbits to converge slowly, and converging slowly is something planets can only do in a disc.

S2's orbit, and the mass it implies. The orbit of S2 about the centre of the Milky Way, drawn from its measured elements: a semi-major axis of 0.1251 arcseconds, which at 8.28 kpc is 1036 AU, an eccentricity of 0.8843, and a period of 16.05 years watched round twice. Kepler's third law in solar units — a³/P² — gives 4.31 million solar masses, by exactly the calculation that weighs a planetary system. At periapsis the star is 120 AU from the focus, 1407 Schwarzschild radii, and the mean density inside that radius is 5.3e+15 M☉ per cubic parsec — a million times the densest star cluster known. That density, not the mass, is the argument: there is no configuration of stars that would fit. Galaxies

The mass at the centre that is not stars

One star at the centre of the Milky Way has been watched round a complete orbit. Its semi-major axis and its period give four million solar masses by Kepler's third law — and the volume that mass occupies is small enough to rule out every alternative to a black hole.

A bridge and a tail, integrated. A disc of 180 massless particles on circular orbits, and a companion of 1 times the primary's mass on a parabolic orbit with a pericentre of 1.6 disc radii, integrated from before the encounter to well after it. Times are in units of the disc's own outer orbital period, measured from pericentre. The outermost ring, drawn separately, is the one that produces both the bridge and the tail: at 3 its furthest particle is 31.4 disc radii from the centre, having started at 0.9; the panels are scaled to hold ninety per cent of the particles, so the very end of the tail is outside them. Nothing has been ejected and no material is new — every particle is on the orbit its own initial conditions and the two masses give it. Galaxies

A bridge and a tail drawn by one force

The long thin streamers coming out of interacting galaxies look like debris thrown off by a collision. They are nothing of the kind — a simulation with no collisions in it, no gas and no self-gravity produces them from the tidal field alone, and only when the encounter runs the same way the disc turns.

Two responses to the same transfer, turning round at q = 0.79 and q = 1. What conservative mass transfer does to the orbit and to the lobe, plotted against the mass ratio of donor to accretor on a logarithmic axis. Both curves are logarithmic derivatives with respect to the donor's mass, so a positive value means the quantity shrinks as the donor loses mass and a negative one means it grows. The orbit's response is exactly twice the mass ratio less one, which follows from holding the total mass and the total angular momentum fixed and nothing else, and it crosses zero at equal masses: transfer from the heavier star draws the orbit in, transfer from the lighter one pushes it out. The lobe's response adds to that the change in the lobe's shape, and it crosses zero earlier, at a mass ratio of 0.788. Between those two crossings the orbit is still widening while the lobe is already closing. To the right of both, a donor that loses mass finds its lobe shrinking around it, which is the runaway the essay is about: the transfer narrows the valve it is flowing through. Stars

The flow that narrows its own channel

Two stars close enough share a surface, and the point where that surface pinches is a valve. What comes through it changes the orbit, and the orbit changes the valve — with a sign that reverses at equal masses, which is why some binaries transfer quietly for a hundred million years and others tear themselves apart in a thousand.

Hard below 8.3 astronomical units, soft above, and nothing settles at the line. The binding energy of a binary of two 0.7 solar-mass stars against its separation, both axes logarithmic, with the mean kinetic energy of a single cluster star at a velocity dispersion of 5 kilometres a second drawn as a level. Where the curve is above the level the binary is bound more tightly than a passing star's motion, and encounters on average take energy out of the field and put it into the pair; where it is below, they do the reverse. The crossing at 8.3 astronomical units is the hard–soft boundary, and it is the entire content of Heggie's law: hard binaries harden and soft binaries soften. The arrows are the direction each side moves, and they point away from the crossing in both directions rather than toward it. That is not a coincidence but a negative heat capacity, the same property that makes a star contract when it radiates: taking energy out of a bound pair moves it closer together and speeds it up, so a hard binary that gives energy to the cluster becomes harder still and gives more. A cluster with binaries in it therefore has a heat source that turns itself up, and the boundary drawn here is a watershed rather than an equilibrium. Gravitation

A pair that heats what is trying to cool

A star cluster has a negative heat capacity, so it cannot reach equilibrium — its core contracts and gets hotter without limit. What stops it is a binary, and which way a binary exchanges energy with the stars around it is settled by one comparison of two energies.

The whole kick, delivered in about two encounter times. The transverse force a body feels while a mass sweeps past it on a straight line, and the velocity that force has delivered so far, both against time in units of the impact parameter divided by the relative speed. The force is the component of the inverse-square attraction perpendicular to the path, which is the impact parameter over the cube of the distance, and it is drawn at its peak value of one at closest approach. The rising curve is its running integral, scaled by twice the gravitational constant times the mass over the impact parameter and the speed. Two things are visible and both are the point. The integral of the force over all time is exactly two in these units, so the kick is exactly 2GM/bv with no free constant anywhere — an answer to a three-body-shaped question obtained without solving anything. And it arrives quickly: 71 per cent of it within a single encounter time of closest approach and 98.6 per cent within the 6 drawn, which is what licenses calling the whole thing an impulse. On the scale of anything slower, the velocity changes discontinuously. Gravitation

An answer obtained along a path that was not taken

Integrate the force of a passing mass along the straight line the body would have followed if the encounter had not happened, and out comes an exact deflection with no free constant in it. The approximation is circular, it is wrong in a known direction by a known amount, and it is the reason stellar dynamics has closed forms at all.

Accretion from a medium a body is moving through, against how fast it moves. The rate at which a gravitating body captures gas out of a medium it is ploughing through, divided by the rate it would capture at rest, against its Mach number, both axes logarithmic. The accretion radius is set by where the body's escape speed matches the speed of the gas relative to it, and that relative speed combines the sound speed with the motion in quadrature; the rate carries the square of that radius times the speed, which leaves one plus the square of the Mach number to the power minus three halves. Subsonic motion therefore costs almost nothing — the curve is flat below Mach one third — while supersonic motion costs the inverse cube of the speed, drawn here with a measured logarithmic slope of -2.99. The same focusing produces the wake and the drag: the body pulls a denser column behind it, that column pulls back, and the material closest to the axis is captured. Accretion and dynamical friction are not two processes but two accounts of one, which is why a body that grows by this mechanism is also being slowed by it. Stars

The wake and the meal are one calculation

A body moving through gas gathers what passes inside the radius at which its escape speed matches the flow. That single radius sets both the drag it feels and the rate at which it grows, so accretion and friction are not two processes but two readings of one — and the rate falls as the inverse cube of the speed.

An edge where two torques balance, 21 kilometres from the shepherd. Two torques on the edge of a ring, against distance from a shepherding moon, both axes logarithmic and both scaled by the same combination of surface density, radius and orbital rate so that only their shapes are being compared. The flat line is the viscous torque, which comes from collisions between ring particles and does not care how far away anything is; it is drawn for a kinematic viscosity of 12 square centimetres a second, within the range ring seismology gives. The falling line is the moon's, summed over the first-order resonances that crowd together as the gap narrows, which makes it an inverse cube. A flat curve and an inverse cube cross once, and the crossing is where an edge can sit: closer in the moon wins and pushes the material back, further out viscosity wins and the ring spreads. For Daphnis and the Keeler gap the balance lands 20.8 kilometres out against a measured half-width of 21, which is agreement to well inside the uncertainty on the viscosity — and it is the only handle anybody has on that viscosity, since the quantity being inferred is the collision rate among particles a metre across, a billion kilometres away. Gravitation

An edge is a balance, not a boundary

A ring of particles spreads, because collisions move angular momentum outward. Something has to push back, and the something is a small moon whose torque falls as the inverse cube of the gap. A flat curve and an inverse cube cross once, and the crossing is the sharp edge — which is why an edge exists at all rather than a gradient.

Relativity switches the cycle off, halving its reach at a ratio of 0.80. The greatest eccentricity a Kozai–Lidov cycle reaches, against the strength of the orbit's own relativistic pericentre precession, measured in units of the cycle's own precession rate at zero eccentricity. The horizontal axis is logarithmic and spans three decades. At the left the relativistic term is negligible and the cycle reaches 0.838, which is the closed-form value for a start at 65 degrees and is what the integration is checked against. At the right it is gone. The mechanism depends on the pericentre staying put while the outer body pulls on the same side of the orbit for a whole cycle, and the relativistic precession is a competing rotation of that same pericentre; when it is faster, the pull averages away. The threshold sits near one by construction and the transition is sharp rather than gradual, with the reach halved at 0.80. What makes it matter is where the relativistic term is largest: it grows as the pericentre falls, so it strengthens exactly as the cycle drives the orbit inward, and it therefore sets a floor on the pericentre distance that this mechanism can deliver a body to. Orbits

The precession that switches the cycle off

A distant companion can trade an orbit's inclination for its eccentricity, over and over, and drive a pericentre almost onto the central body. General relativity's own precession competes with the mechanism for the same pericentre, and when it wins the cycle stops — sharply, at a ratio of one, which puts a floor on how close anything can be delivered.

An invariant that moves by 8.0e-3 once the planet's orbit is real. The Tisserand parameter of a comet on an orbit of semi-major axis 5 and eccentricity 0.8, followed through a close passage of Jupiter, integrated twice. The lower trace has Jupiter on a perfect circle, which is the problem the parameter is an exact constant of: it survives the encounter having moved by 1.0e-4, which is the integrator's own error and not a physical change, and the spike at the moment of closest approach is the osculating elements being briefly meaningless while the comet is inside Jupiter's sphere of influence rather than the constant failing. The upper trace is the same encounter with Jupiter on its real orbit, eccentricity 0.0489. The parameter comes out changed by 8.0e-3, 79 times as much, because the Jacobi constant exists only when the rotating frame is uniformly rotating and a planet on an ellipse does not provide one. That number is small and it is not negligible: comet families are separated by boundaries in this parameter placed to two decimal places, and a comet that drifts across one over several encounters has changed class without anything having happened to it that a single encounter could account for. Orbits

An invariant that is only almost one

The Tisserand parameter survives a close encounter with Jupiter exactly, and comet families are separated by boundaries in it drawn to two decimal places. The exactness holds for a Jupiter on a circle. Jupiter's eccentricity is 0.0489, and integrating the same encounter twice shows what that costs.

A line nothing spun up by accretion can lie above, and the millisecond pulsars beneath it. The period–period-derivative diagram with the spin-up line drawn on it. An accreting neutron star is torqued by the disc until its magnetosphere turns at the same rate as the material arriving there, which fixes an equilibrium period as a function of the magnetic field and the accretion rate. Eliminating the field between that relation and the dipole formula that every point in this diagram is already read through leaves a straight line of slope 1.33, drawn here for accretion at the Eddington rate — the fastest a star can be pushed. The 7 recycled pulsars all sit below it, which is what the figure is for: none of them was spun up faster than the limit allows, and their positions are a record of how much mass each one received rather than of how old it is. The young pulsars are in the opposite corner, above the line and to the right, spinning down from birth. The two populations are not two stages of one life. A star that reaches the bottom left has been fed by a companion for a hundred million years, which is why almost every millisecond pulsar has one and almost no young pulsar does. Stars

A corner of the diagram that has to be earned

A pulsar spinning a thousand times a second cannot have been born that way and stayed that way, because its own radiation would have slowed it in a few million years. It got there by being fed, and the line it cannot lie above is where the accretion torque balances the magnetic one.

Prograde and retrograde, the same encounter. The same encounter twice: a companion of 1 times the primary's mass passing at 1.5 disc radii, with the disc spinning the same way the companion orbits and then the other way. Nothing else differs. The prograde disc grows a bridge towards the companion and a tail away from it; the retrograde one is barely disturbed. The reason is a resonance rather than a force: in the prograde case the outer particles keep pace with the companion for a substantial part of the encounter and are pulled the whole time, and in the retrograde case they sweep past it and the impulses cancel. Galaxies

Whether it merges is a ratio of two times

Two galaxies passing each other either merge or do not, and what decides it is not how close they come. It is whether the encounter lasts long enough for the internal motions to respond — a slow, prograde passage transfers orbital energy into stellar orbits and the pair is bound; a fast one leaves both galaxies heated and still moving.

A gravity assist with a 68° 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. Spaceflight

The planet pays, and it shows

A gravity assist takes energy from a planet and gives it to a spacecraft, and the planet's loss is exactly the spacecraft's gain. For a two-tonne probe past Jupiter that loss is unmeasurable. Do it with a hundred Earth masses of icy debris and the same bookkeeping moves Neptune outward by several astronomical units.

An edge where two torques balance, 21 kilometres from the shepherd. Two torques on the edge of a ring, against distance from a shepherding moon, both axes logarithmic and both scaled by the same combination of surface density, radius and orbital rate so that only their shapes are being compared. The flat line is the viscous torque, which comes from collisions between ring particles and does not care how far away anything is; it is drawn for a kinematic viscosity of 12 square centimetres a second, within the range ring seismology gives. The falling line is the moon's, summed over the first-order resonances that crowd together as the gap narrows, which makes it an inverse cube. A flat curve and an inverse cube cross once, and the crossing is where an edge can sit: closer in the moon wins and pushes the material back, further out viscosity wins and the ring spreads. For Daphnis and the Keeler gap the balance lands 20.8 kilometres out against a measured half-width of 21, which is agreement to well inside the uncertainty on the viscosity — and it is the only handle anybody has on that viscosity, since the quantity being inferred is the collision rate among particles a metre across, a billion kilometres away. Exoplanets

A torque that nearly cancels

A planet embedded in a gas disc pulls on the material inside its orbit and outside it, and the two torques are almost equal and opposite. What survives the subtraction is a per cent of either, and it is still enough to carry a planet from where it formed to its star in less time than the disc lasts.

Two bodies at a mass ratio of 2.6 to 1. Both bodies orbit their common centre of mass, on similar ellipses whose sizes are in inverse proportion to the masses — here 2.6 to 1, so the heavier body's path is 2.6 times smaller. Stars

The companion survives, and it is moving

When one star of a close pair explodes, the other is left holding an orbital velocity and no orbit. Whether the pair stays bound turns on a single question — did more than half the total mass leave? — and the stars that answer no are running across the Galaxy at a hundred kilometres a second with nothing visible behind them.

Central pressure bracketed without a model: 6 bodies, 23 decades apart. What can be said about the middle of a body from its mass and its radius alone. The lower end of each bar is GM²/8πR⁴, which follows from hydrostatic equilibrium and nothing else — no equation of state, no composition, no temperature, no assumption whatever about how the density is arranged inside. The upper end costs one more assumption, that the density does not increase outward, and it needs a central density, which is a model output rather than an observation and is why that edge is drawn as the softer one. The dot is what a full structural model gives. For the first five bodies every dot lies inside its bar, and what is worth noticing is how wide the bar is: Sun's rigorous floor is 4.48e+13 pascals against a modelled 2.34e+16, a factor of 522. The bound is true and nearly useless there, because most of a centrally condensed body's pressure comes from the concentration and the derivation deliberately knows nothing about it. The relativistic entry is the exception, and the reason to draw the figure at all. neutron star's modelled central pressure is 8.5 times the Newtonian ceiling — a body no Newtonian arrangement of matter with density falling outward can produce. The floor still holds, and holds for a statable reason: relativity makes the pressure gradient steeper than Newtonian gravity does, so the true central pressure can only exceed what the Newtonian derivation demands. The bracket therefore does more than constrain an interior. Applied at a small enough radius it breaks, and where it breaks is where Newtonian hydrostatics has stopped being the right equation. Stars

A floor under the centre that assumes nothing

There is a lower bound on the pressure at the centre of any body in hydrostatic equilibrium, and it needs no equation of state, no composition and no temperature — only a mass and a radius. For the Sun it is nearly useless. For a neutron star it says which theory of gravity the interior needs.

Two interiors, 2.59 mm/s apart, against a floor of 0.02. What a radio link measures when a spacecraft flies past a moon. The horizontal axis is time from closest approach in minutes and the vertical axis is the accumulated change in the line-of-sight velocity in millimetres per second, after the pull of the moon as a point mass has been fitted and removed. What is left is the part of the field that is not spherically symmetric, and the two curves are what two interiors predict for it. The upper one is a body whose tidal Love number is 0.616 — a shell floating on a global liquid layer, free to deform almost as a fluid would. The lower one is a body solid throughout, at 0.03. They differ by 2.59 millimetres per second in the accumulated deflection, against a floor of 0.02 for a coherent two-way X-band link integrated over tens of seconds: 130 standard deviations in a single pass. That ratio is the whole reason the measurement is possible, and it is worth stating what is being compared. The point-mass deflection itself is 837 metres per second — five orders of magnitude larger than the signature of interest — so the interior is not read off the Doppler curve but off the residual left after a model of everything larger has been subtracted: the moon's mass, the planet's, the spacecraft's own thrusting and outgassing, the plasma along the path, the station's motion, and relativity. Every one of those has to be right to a part in a hundred thousand before the last curve here means anything, which is why gravity science needs many passes and a global fit rather than one flyby and a subtraction. The published uncertainty on Titan's k₂ is eleven per cent rather than the fraction of a per cent this signal-to-noise would suggest, and the difference is entirely correlations with the other parameters in that fit — a reminder that a formal error on a curve is not the error on the number extracted from it. The straight-line path assumed here is exact only in the limit of a fast flyby; a slow one bends, and the bending is solved for rather than approximated. Spaceflight

An ocean found in a Doppler residual

A spacecraft flying past a moon is deflected by hundreds of metres a second, and the part of that deflection which says whether the moon has an ocean is two millimetres a second. Everything larger has to be modelled and removed first, exactly, and what is left over is an interior.

Who holds the mass, and who holds the spin. The solar system's two ledgers on one logarithmic axis, each row a body or a group of them, with the pale bar its share of the mass and the dark bar its share of the angular momentum. Both columns are computed rather than quoted: the Sun's spin from 0.07 M R² Ω at a 25.38-day rotation, each planet's orbit from M √(GM☉ a (1 − e²)) with its own semi-major axis and eccentricity, and both sums are required to close to one part in a billion. The Sun holds 99.866 per cent of the mass and 0.61 per cent of the angular momentum. Jupiter holds 0.095 per cent of the mass and 61.1 per cent of the angular momentum, so a body a thousandth of the system by weight carries most of its rotation. The four inner planets together account for 0.0016 of it. A cloud collapsing to make this system had to move nearly all of its spin outward onto a small fraction of its mass, and the ledger is what that operation looks like when it is finished. What the figure cannot show is where the transfer happened, because everything that carried it away has either fallen in or left. Orbits

Ninety-nine per cent of the mass and none of the spin

The Sun holds 99.87 per cent of the solar system's mass and 0.6 per cent of its angular momentum. Jupiter holds a thousandth of the mass and three-fifths of the spin. That is not a curiosity of accounting — it is the record of the single operation that had to succeed before a star could form at all.

Every pair arrives circular. Eccentricity against gravitational-wave frequency for four binaries of 30 and 30 solar masses, each starting at 0.2 astronomical units with an eccentricity of 0.3, 0.7, 0.9, 0.99. Both axes are logarithmic and the tracks run left to right as the orbit shrinks. The curves are Peters' closed solution a(e), and they are checked against Peters' differential equation at three eccentricities on each track rather than against the integral they came from. The ordering is preserved — a pair that starts rounder stays rounder — but by the time the orbit is radiating at 10 hertz, where a ground-based detector begins to hear it, the four eccentricities are 8.8·10⁻⁸, 5.6·10⁻⁷, 3.6·10⁻⁶, 1.5·10⁻⁴. All four are far below anything a detector could measure. That is the figure's whole content and it is a strong statement: radiation reaction removes angular momentum faster, relative to energy, than a circular orbit would need, so eccentricity is destroyed on the way in. A binary observed to be eccentric in band therefore cannot have spent long shrinking quietly, and must have been put on that orbit recently — by a third body, or in the crowded centre of a cluster. The figure assumes the two bodies are points and nothing else acts on them, which is exactly the assumption an eccentric detection would refute. Gravitation

Every pair arrives circular

Gravitational radiation drains a binary's energy and its angular momentum at rates that do not keep step, and the mismatch destroys eccentricity far faster than it shrinks the orbit. A pair that starts at 0.99 and spirals in from a fifth of an astronomical unit is round to better than a part in a hundred million by the time a detector can hear it.

The last parsec, priced in stars. The two timescales that shrink a pair of 10⁸-solar-mass black holes at the centre of a merged galaxy, against their separation in parsecs, both axes logarithmic, for a stellar velocity dispersion of 200 km/s and a central density of 500 solar masses per cubic parsec. Ejecting stars hardens the binary at a rate proportional to the separation, so that timescale grows as the orbit shrinks; gravitational radiation goes as the fourth power of the separation, so its timescale collapses. Neither alone finishes the job and the crossing of the two is where the answer is set. With the loss cone kept full, the crossing is at 2.9e-2 parsecs and the total is 4.2·10⁸ years, inside a Hubble time. With the supply of low-angular-momentum orbits emptied by a factor of 100 — which is what happens in a smooth spherical nucleus, because the stars that could interact have already been thrown out and two-body relaxation refills the orbits far too slowly — the crossing moves outward to 7.3e-2 parsecs and the total becomes 1.7·10¹⁰ years. That is the final-parsec problem, and it is not a problem about gravity: it is a problem about supply. Real nuclei are not spherical, and the figure cannot show what a triaxial potential does, which is to keep feeding the binary orbits it has not already used. Galaxies

The last parsec, and the stars that are not there

Two galaxies merge and their central black holes sink towards each other, and then stop. From about a parsec apart, friction no longer works and gravitational radiation is not yet strong enough — and the only mechanism in between throws away the stars it depends on faster than they can be replaced.

A circular orbit has one lock, and an eccentric one has several. The strength of each spin–orbit resonance against orbital eccentricity, as the Hansen coefficient H(p, e) that multiplies the restoring torque on a permanently non-spherical body. At zero eccentricity every curve but the synchronous one is exactly zero — the figure checks that rather than showing it — so a body on a circular orbit can lock only by turning once per orbit. Away from zero the others switch on: at Mercury's eccentricity of 0.2056 the 3:2 resonance has 73 per cent of the synchronous one's strength and more than twice the 2:1's. A planet spinning down through this family therefore meets the 3:2 before the 1:1 and has a real chance of being caught there, which is what happened — Mercury turns three times for every two orbits, a fact discovered by radar in 1965 after a century of assuming it was locked. The free libration of that locked state follows from the same coefficient and the measured 2.03e-4 for (B − A)/C: 12.1 years, against a measured period near twelve. What the figure cannot show is the capture probability itself, which depends on how the tide dissipates and ranges from a few per cent for a simple constant-lag tide to more than half once friction between a liquid core and the mantle is included. Gravitation

A rotation locked to the orbit, but not one to one

Mercury turns exactly three times for every two circuits of the Sun. That was not what anybody expected, and it is not an accident — on a circular orbit a tidally despun body has exactly one place to lock, and on an eccentric one it has several — with the strength of each set by a coefficient that vanishes when the eccentricity does.

Where the disc stops, and the spin that follows from it. Two radii against accretion rate, for a neutron star with a 10⁸-gauss field. The falling curve is the magnetospheric radius, where the field's stress on the disc matches the rate at which the flow carries angular momentum inward; it goes as the accretion rate to the minus two sevenths, which is a weak enough dependence that the factor of 1000 in supply drawn here moves the boundary by a factor of 7.2. The horizontal lines are corotation radii for three spin periods — the radius at which the disc orbits as fast as the star turns. Above corotation the field is spinning the gas faster than it wants to go and flings it out; below, the gas is faster and spins the star up. So the crossing is an attractor, and a star accreting steadily walks to the period where the two coincide. That period goes as the field to the six sevenths and the rate to the minus three sevenths — which is why a neutron star that has swallowed a tenth of a solar mass from a companion comes out at a few milliseconds, and why the millisecond pulsars have fields ten thousand times weaker than the young ones. Gravitation

The period a star is pulled towards

A magnetised neutron star does not let a disc reach it. The disc stops where the field's stress wins, and if that radius lies inside the corotation radius the star is spun up while outside it the star is spun down — so there is one period at which nothing changes, and an accreting star walks to it.

A resonance with the planet's rotation, and it sorts by size. Above: the radii at which a charged grain's orbital frequency is commensurate with the planet's spin, in planetary radii, with the measured edges of Jupiter's halo ring drawn over them. The synchronous radius is 2.24; the 3:2 resonance falls at 1.71 and the 2:1 at 1.41. The halo's outer boundary is at 1.71 and its inner extent near 1.4 — the ring ends where the resonances are, and both numbers were measured by a spacecraft camera with no reference to this arithmetic. Below: which grains care. The charge on a grain is proportional to its radius and the mass to the cube, so the force per unit mass goes exactly as the inverse square of the size, and the resonance grips sub-micron dust while leaving anything larger on a Keplerian orbit. That is why the halo is a cloud of fine dust puffed a thousand kilometres out of the ring plane while the coarse material stays flat: the same field acting on the same orbit sorts the material by size, which no gravitational resonance can do. Orbits

A resonance with the planet itself

Every other resonance in celestial mechanics is a commensurability between two orbits. A charged dust grain has a third clock available — the planet's rotation, which sweeps its magnetic field past the grain — and the commensurability with that selects by charge-to-mass ratio, which means by grain size.

The two halves of what is left over. The disturbing potential of a perturber on a test particle, against the difference in longitude between them, at a semi-major axis ratio of 0.62. The upper curve is the direct term — the perturber's own attraction, which peaks at conjunction where the separation is smallest and falls to 1/(1+α) half a turn later. The lower one is the indirect term, which exists only because the coordinates are centred on a primary that is itself being accelerated, and which is a pure cosine of the longitude difference. The indirect term is the larger of the two over 3 per cent of the circle, and it averages to exactly zero while the direct term averages to something positive. Everything that happens slowly in a planetary system comes from that asymmetry: the part that survives averaging is not the part that dominates the instantaneous force. Orbits

The series that is subtracted

The two-body problem is solved, so nobody solves it twice. Every planetary theory since Newton begins by taking that solution away and asking what is left — and what is left is an infinite series whose terms are stacked in a hierarchy that makes the first half-dozen of them enough.

The best-fitting eccentricity of a circular orbit. What a fitted eccentricity comes out at when the orbit's true eccentricity is 0 and each component of the eccentricity vector carries an error of 0.03. The distribution is not centred on the truth and cannot be: an eccentricity is the length of the vector (e cos ϖ, e sin ϖ), lengths are not negative, and a quantity bounded below by zero whose components scatter symmetrically has a distribution pushed away from the bound. For a circular orbit the most likely fitted value is exactly one error bar, 0.0300 here, and the mean is 0.0376 — 1.2533 error bars, which is √(π/2) and comes from geometry rather than from any property of the data. The practical consequence is a catalogue of small eccentricities that are all measurements of their own error bars, and the fix is not a better fit but a different question: an upper limit rather than a value. Orbits

An eccentricity that cannot be zero

Fit an orbit to noisy data and the eccentricity that comes back is never zero, not even when the orbit is a perfect circle. The reason has nothing to do with the data and everything to do with the fact that a length cannot be negative.

Three causes, three shapes, one residual. An eclipse-timing residual: the observed minus the computed time of each eclipse, against cycle number, in days. Three effects are superposed and each has its own functional form. A slow change in the orbital period — from mass transfer or from magnetic braking — integrates to a parabola. A third body in a wide orbit moves the whole binary towards and away from the observer, so its light-travel time adds a sinusoid at the third body's period. And an eccentric orbit whose apsides are precessing moves the two eclipses in opposite directions, which is a sinusoid that changes sign between primary and secondary minima. The last is why both eclipses have to be timed: a third body moves them together and apsidal motion moves them apart, and a series of primary minima alone cannot tell the two apart at all. Stars

Three causes with three shapes in one curve

The times of eclipse in a binary star are a clock, and the clock runs late and early. Three completely different things make it do so — a third body, a changing period, and a slowly turning orbit — and they are separable only because each imposes a different shape on the residual.

A patch that throws away 2.5 to 436 metres a second. The velocity error a patched-conic approximation makes at each planet's sphere of influence, on a logarithmic scale, for an approach at 3 kilometres a second. The sphere of influence is where the two ways of writing the problem — planet-centred with the Sun as a perturber, or Sun-centred with the planet as one — become equally bad, and at that radius the neglected solar tide is exactly two times the fifth root of the planet's mass ratio times the planet's own pull. That is drawn beside each planet, it runs from 0.09 to 0.50, and it is not the same for all of them — a factor of 5.6 that the definition does not remove. Because both neglected terms are largest exactly at the surface where the switch is made, the trajectory has a discontinuity in its acceleration and an accumulated velocity error of metres a second. That is negligible for a mission design and enormous for a navigation solution, which is why patched conics are used to find a trajectory and never to fly one: the real trajectory is obtained by numerically integrating the full n-body problem, differentially corrected onto the patched-conic solution as a starting guess. Spaceflight

The discontinuity a patched conic hides

An interplanetary trajectory is designed as two exact solutions glued along a surface where neither is valid. At that surface both neglected forces are at their largest, so the stitched path has a kink no real trajectory has — and the size of the kink is metres a second, which is a rounding error for a mission design and a catastrophe for a navigation solution.

A bump that crosses the line from -41 to 25 km/s. The residual of a rotationally broadened line profile during a transit, drawn at five epochs and offset vertically. The planet covers a strip of the stellar disc whose radial velocity is the projected rotation at that position, so it removes light from one velocity and leaves a bump in the residual there. As the planet crosses, the bump travels across the profile — and where it starts and ends is set by the geometry of the chord. An orbit aligned with the star's equator gives a track symmetric about the line centre; this one, tilted by 30 degrees, runs from -41 to 25 kilometres a second and is not. The measurement is of a path rather than of a centroid, which is why it works on rapidly rotating stars where the velocity anomaly is swamped by the line's own width. Exoplanets

A shadow crossing a rotating line

A transiting planet hides a strip of a rotating star, and that strip has a definite velocity. So the planet removes light from one place in the line profile and leaves a bump there — a bump that travels across the line as the transit proceeds, tracing the path the planet took across the disc.

A virial mass inflated 23.2-fold by orbits nobody resolved. The factor by which a virial mass is overestimated when the velocity dispersion is measured from single-epoch spectra, against the system's true dispersion, for four numbers of observing epochs. Every star in a binary carries its own orbital velocity, which adds in quadrature to the system's own, and the orbital velocities of ordinary binaries are of order a kilometre a second. A system whose real dispersion is 0.3 km/s therefore measures 1.45, and since a virial mass goes as the square of the dispersion the mass comes out 23.2 times too large. Repeat epochs fix it: the orbital velocities are uncorrelated between visits while the system's own are not, so the binary variance falls as one over the number of epochs and the correction is measured rather than modelled. Galaxies

A dispersion inflated by orbits nobody resolved

A velocity dispersion measured from single spectra is not the dispersion of the system's centres of mass. Every star in a binary carries its own orbital velocity of a kilometre or so, and for a dwarf galaxy whose real dispersion is smaller than that, the measured value — and the dark-matter content computed from its square — is mostly binaries.

The kick falls as b⁻² and the heating as b⁻⁴. Two quantities delivered by the same distant encounter, against impact parameter in units of the target's half-mass radius, both logarithmic and both scaled to cross near one. The upper line is the impulse itself, 2Gm/vb, which every star in a bound system receives almost equally — so it moves the system and changes nothing inside it. The lower line is what is left after the common part is subtracted: the difference of the impulse across the system, which is its gradient multiplied by the system's own size, one power of b smaller and squared in the energy. The slopes are −2 and −4 exactly, and they are measured off the drawn curves rather than quoted. What follows is the point. Encounters at impact parameter b arrive at a rate proportional to b db, so summing the impulse over all of them gives ∫b⁻¹ db, which diverges logarithmically and is the origin of the Coulomb logarithm that appears in every treatment of relaxation. Summing the heating gives ∫b⁻³ db, which converges: extending the population from ten half-mass radii out to 300 multiplies the summed impulse by 2.48 and the summed heating by 1.010. Distant encounters diffuse velocities and heat nothing, and a tidal-heating calculation therefore needs no cutoff at large impact parameter, where a relaxation calculation cannot proceed without one. Gravitation

The part of a kick that heats nothing

Most of the impulse a passing mass delivers to a star cluster is delivered equally to every star in it, so the cluster moves and nothing inside it changes. What heats it is the difference across it — one power of the impact parameter smaller, squared in the energy — and that one distinction decides which encounters matter and which cannot.

Why the Moon holds the tilt still. Spin-axis precession rate against obliquity, with the solar system's own secular frequencies drawn across it. The rising-and-falling curves are α cos ε for three precession constants: the Earth as it is, with the Moon supplying about two thirds of the torque; and a Moonless Earth at two plausible rotation rates. The horizontal lines are the nodal eigenfrequencies of the planetary secular system — s₆, s₃, s₄, s₂, s₁, s₇, s₈ — which are the rates at which the Earth's own orbit plane wobbles. A crossing is a resonance: the axis is precessing about a plane that is itself turning at the same rate, the resonant angle stops circulating, and the obliquity librates instead of holding still. The present Earth precesses at 50.3 arcseconds a year, faster than every secular frequency in the list, and its nearest crossing is at 61.3°, which is 37.8 degrees from the obliquity drawn. Take the Moon away and α falls by a factor of three; the crossings come down with it, 3 of them land below 85°, and where several overlap the obliquity has no stable value at all. The Moon does not hold the axis by pulling on it. It holds it by making the precession too fast to resonate with anything. The observed sky

A tilt held still by being too fast to resonate

The Moon does not hold the Earth's axis by pulling on it. It triples the rate at which the axis precesses, which lifts that rate clear of every frequency at which the Earth's own orbit plane wobbles — and a precession with nothing to resonate with cannot wander.

The same equation, run away at q = 0.8 and settled at q = 0.5. The donor's overfill of its own Roche lobe against time, integrated for 3 mass ratios at a donor adiabatic response of −0.33 — a star with a deep convective envelope, which expands as it loses mass. The overfill sets the transfer rate and the transfer rate changes the overfill, and the sign of that feedback is the stability criterion: where the lobe shrinks faster than the star does, ζ_L > ζ_ad, the overfill grows and the growth is exponential. At q = 0.8 the lobe responds at 0.03 and the overfill runs away; At q = 1.4 the lobe responds at 1.32 and the overfill runs away. At q = 0.5 it responds at -0.62 and the transfer throttles itself back. The critical ratio for this donor is 0.63 — below equal masses, which is the result the whole subject turns on: a giant transferring to a lighter companion is already unstable before the mass ratio has reversed, and what follows is not accretion but a common envelope. Nothing here is a fitted rate. The vertical scale is logarithmic and the runaway is a straight line on it, which is what an exponential is. Stars

Three clocks and a runaway

Whether mass transfer between two stars is stable is a comparison of two logarithmic derivatives. How fast it runs is a separate question with three possible answers fourteen orders of magnitude apart — and the answer decides whether the companion accretes, is buried, or is swallowed.

Two separations that draw the same caustic. The width of the central caustic against the separation, computed from the lens equation for a mass ratio of 0.003, for each separation s and for its reciprocal 1/s. The two curves lie nearly on top of each other. That is the close–wide degeneracy, and it is a theorem rather than a coincidence: expanding the binary lens equation near the primary shows that the central caustic depends on the separation only through s + 1/s to first order in the mass ratio, and that combination is invariant under s → 1/s. It is first order and not exact, which the figure shows rather than hides — the two agree to 0.7 per cent at s = 2.8 and only to 13.1 at s = 1.4, because a smaller separation is closer to the resonant regime where the central and planetary caustics have not yet separated. Reducing the mass ratio to 1.0e-3 brings the worst case to 4.8 per cent, which is the first-order statement being checked rather than quoted. What that means for a measurement is uncomfortable. An event whose planetary signal comes from the source passing near the central caustic — which is most of them, because the central caustic sits where the magnification is already high and the event is already being watched — cannot distinguish a companion at 2.8 Einstein radii from one at 0.357. For a typical lens that is the difference between a planet at four astronomical units and one at less than one. And the disagreement the figure measures is not the way out: at 2.8 Einstein radii the caustics differ in width by 0.7 per cent, which is far below what a light curve sampled through a night's seeing can separate, so the ambiguity is real in the data even where it is not exact in the mathematics. Exoplanets

Two systems that draw the same curve

A binary lens with separation s and one with separation 1/s have central caustics that agree to first order in the mass ratio. The same event is therefore a planet at four astronomical units or one at less than one, and no amount of photometric precision decides between them.

Two galaxies that stopped moving apart, and the mass that did it. The separation of two galaxies on a radial orbit that began together at the big bang, against cosmic time, solved so that after 13.797 Gyr they are 770 kpc apart and approaching at 110 km/s — the present separation and approach speed of the Milky Way and the Andromeda galaxy. The curve is a cycloid, r = A(1 − cos θ) and t = B(θ − sin θ), and only one cycloid passes through that point with that slope. It rose to 1037 kpc, turned round when the universe was 8.5 Gyr old, and on this purely radial orbit the two meet 3.3 Gyr from now. Its period fixes the mass: A³/(GB²) = 4.2·10¹² solar masses. The dashed curve is the same calculation with the cosmological constant's outward push included, integrated rather than solved; to arrive at the same place at the same speed against that push it needs 4.76·10¹² solar masses, 13 per cent more. Far more than the stars of the two galaxies, it is the timing argument's measurement of the Local Group's dark matter. Cosmology

The age of the universe weighs the Local Group

The Andromeda galaxy is approaching the Milky Way, and in an expanding universe that means the two once moved apart, stopped and turned round. One radial orbit passes through their present separation with their present speed after exactly the age of the universe, and its period fixes the mass that turned them — four trillion suns, twenty-five times what their stars can account for.

How far the returning debris swings round, against the hole's mass. The relativistic advance of pericentre, per orbit, of the most bound debris from a disrupted star of 1 solar radius and 1 solar mass, passing at the tidal radius, against the hole's mass. Δω = 6π GM / c² a(1 − e²), and for these nearly parabolic orbits a(1 − e²) is about twice the pericentre, so the angle is set by how many gravitational radii the pericentre is — and that falls as the mass to the minus two thirds, because the tidal radius grows as the cube root of the mass while the gravitational radius grows as the mass. At 10⁵ solar masses the pericentre is 219 gravitational radii and the stream swings round by 2.5°; at 10⁶ solar masses the pericentre is 47 gravitational radii and the stream swings round by 11.6°; at 10⁷ solar masses the pericentre is 10 gravitational radii and the stream swings round by 53.4°. A light hole barely bends its debris's orbit, and a heavy one bends it by tens of degrees. Galaxies

The debris that returns fastest lights up last

The debris of a star torn apart by a light black hole comes back within two weeks, in greater excess of what the hole can swallow than for any heavier hole. It should make the promptest flare, and it may make the slowest — because to shine, the returning stream has to crash into itself, and where it does so is decided by how far relativity swings its orbit round. Round a light hole the swing is a few degrees, and the streams meet only near the far end of their orbit, moving slowly.

A 10 Earth-mass Trojan started 10° from its point, seen in the planet's transits. A Jupiter-mass planet on a 4-day orbit about a 1 solar-mass star, with a 10 Earth-mass companion started 10 degrees beyond the leading Lagrange point of the same orbit, integrated for 160 days. Above, the angle between the companion and the planet as seen from the star: it swings about 60 degrees, between 51.1 and 70.3, with a period of 48.5 days measured off the curve, against 49.8 from the small-amplitude formula P/√(27μ/4). Below, the planet's own transit times minus a straight line: they swing by ±300.0 seconds at the same period, because the planet and the companion orbit their common centre of mass and the companion's libration moves that centre along the orbit. The companion shares the planet's period exactly, so it produces no timing signal at any orbital period of its own and would not transit on a schedule distinct from the planet's; the libration period is the only clock it has. Exoplanets

A companion on the same orbit, seen in the planet's clock

A body sharing a planet's orbit at one of its Lagrange points has the planet's period exactly, so no search for periodic dips or wobbles can find it at a period of its own. It shows instead in two ways the planet's own signals carry — a slow swing of the transit times at the companion's libration period, and a fixed offset between the planet's transit and its star's velocity curve.

Mars: a sundial 40 minutes ahead and 51 behind. The equation of time on Mars over one of its years, 668.6 sols long, against sols since the northern spring equinox, computed from Kepler's equation for an orbit of eccentricity 0.0934 and an axis tilted 25.19°, with perihelion at solar longitude 250.87°. The solid curve is the difference between true and mean solar time: it runs from −51.1 local minutes, 611 sols after the equinox, to +39.9, 385 sols after it — −52.5 to +41.0 in Earth minutes, since a local minute is a 1,440th of a sol. The dashed curves are its two parts. The eccentricity term, one cycle a year, swings by ±42.9 minutes; the obliquity term, two cycles, by ±11.4; the first is 3.74 times the second. Perihelion falls 485 sols after the equinox, marked, and the vertical lines are the equinoxes and solstices. The observed sky

On Mars the orbit outweighs the tilt

The equation of time is the sum of two terms, one from the shape of the orbit and one from the tilt of the axis, and on the Earth they are nearly the same size. On Mars the orbit's term is almost four times the tilt's, a sundial runs from fifty-one minutes behind the clock to forty ahead, and the figure-of-eight the Sun traces in the Earth's sky becomes a teardrop. Nothing about the two terms is different; only their ratio is.

A Sun that runs backwards for 8.1 days. The rate at which the Sun moves across the sky of a planet with a 3:2 spin–orbit ratio and eccentricity 0.2056, in degrees of hour angle per Earth day, against days from perihelion, over one 87.97-day orbit. The rate is the spin rate minus the rate at which the Sun's direction turns because the planet moves along its orbit, and by Kepler's second law that orbital rate peaks at perihelion, at 1.551 times its mean. The spin is 1.5 times the mean orbital rate, so for 8.1 days around perihelion, from −4.0 to +4.0 days, the orbital rate wins, the rate is negative, and the Sun moves backwards across the sky by 1.11 degrees before resuming. At perihelion it is moving at 0.21 degrees a day in the wrong direction. Away from perihelion the Sun crosses the sky at up to 3.4 degrees a day, and a whole solar day, noon to noon, takes 175.9 days — two orbits. The observed sky

A Sun that stops and runs backwards

On Mercury the equation of time is not a correction but a reversal. The planet turns three times for every two orbits, and near perihelion its orbital motion briefly outruns its spin, so the Sun halts, backs up by a degree over eight days and resumes. From one longitude that is three noons in a week; from another, a sunrise, a sunset and a second sunrise — and a slightly rounder orbit would have stopped it happening at all.

Where the gradient of gravity holds a spacecraft still. The plane of the two inertia ratios that decide whether a spacecraft pointing at the Earth is held there by the gravity gradient: k₁ — the pitch moment of inertia less the yaw moment, divided by the roll moment — across, and k₃ — the pitch moment less the roll moment, divided by the yaw moment — up, with roll along the velocity, pitch normal to the orbit and yaw towards the Earth. Shaded points satisfy all three conditions of the linear theory — pitch is stable when k₁ > k₃, and roll and yaw together when k₁k₃ > 0 and 1 + 3k₁ + k₁k₃ > 4√(k₁k₃). The large region at upper right, 12.4 per cent of the square, is the one in which the pitch moment is the largest and the yaw moment the smallest, the arrangement of a long boom hanging towards the Earth. The small region just left of the vertical axis and below the horizontal one, 2.0 per cent, is a second, narrow island of stability with the moments in a different order, found by DeBra and Delp in 1961. There the orientation is a maximum of the potential in roll and yaw rather than a minimum, held only by the gyroscopic coupling of the two, and a damper — the very thing the long-boom region needs — destroys it: with damping of 0.05 of the orbital rate, a swing of a hundredth of a radian at (−0.10, −0.21) grows to a full radian within 11 orbits, while the same swing on the long boom shrinks 435-fold in 40. A boom along the vertical, pitch moment largest sits at (0.97, 0.40) and is stable; the same boom with roll and pitch moments swapped sits at (0.93, −0.40) and is unstable: the same boom, with two nearly equal moments exchanged, crosses from one side of an axis to the other. Spaceflight

A boom held upright by a difference in gravity

A long spacecraft in orbit is pulled into line with the vertical for nothing — its near end feels slightly more gravity than its far end, and the difference is a torque. The torque restores and never dissipates, so the vehicle swings like a pendulum whose clock is the orbit. Whether it is held at all comes down to three inequalities between its moments of inertia, and one region that satisfies all three is destroyed by the damper every such spacecraft needs.

The two force laws whose orbits close. The apsidal angle — the angle swept from periapsis to the next apoapsis — against the exponent of the force law, for F ∝ r^p. The dashed curve is the near-circular limit π/√(3+p), which has a closed form; the solid curve is the same angle for an orbit of eccentricity 0.4, computed by quadrature of ∫(L/r²)dr/√(2(E−U)) between its two turning points, with U the effective potential. An orbit closes when the apsidal angle is a rational multiple of π, and an orbit closes at every eccentricity only where the two curves meet: p = −2 at exactly 180° and p = +1 at exactly 90°, which is Bertrand's theorem. The quadrature returns 180.0000° and 90.0000° at those two exponents and departs from the near-circular curve by 1.4° at p = 0. The angle diverges as p approaches −3, where the circular orbit stops being stable and there is no well left to oscillate in. Orbits

Only two force laws let an orbit come back

That a planet returns to the same point of its own path after one lap is not a fact about orbits. It is a fact about the exponent in the force, and out of the whole continuum of attractions only two — the inverse square, and a spring — bring every bound orbit back to where it started.

The same well after the primary has lost 45 per cent of its mass. Two effective potentials for one body: the solid curve before the primary loses mass and the faint one after, both at the same angular momentum, because a central force of any strength exerts no torque. The well shallows and its floor moves out from r = 1.00 to 1.82. The body's own level moves with it — from E = -0.420 to -0.127 — and the two horizontal lines are drawn where the radial action is conserved, which puts the turning points at 0.71–1.67 before and 1.30–3.03 after. The ratio between them is 2.3333 in both, so the orbit is the same shape at a larger size: everything about the body's path has scaled and its eccentricity of 0.4 has not moved. That is what a slow change leaves behind, and it is not what a sudden one leaves. Orbits

The well moves, and the body keeps its share of it

When the Sun becomes a white dwarf it will throw away half its mass, and every planet's orbit will swell by the same factor. Their eccentricities will not change at all — provided the loss is slow, and the only meaning "slow" has here is slow compared with one orbital period.

A corridor 0.2 km wide, and a density known to a factor of 2. The apoapsis a vehicle is left on after a single atmospheric pass, against the periapsis altitude it aimed at, for ballistic coefficients of 60, 130, 300 kg/m² arriving at 3 km/s. The energy removed is the density at periapsis times an effective path length of √(2πrₚH), divided by the ballistic coefficient — so it falls exponentially with altitude and the curve is steep. Hitting a 1000 km apoapsis to ±10 per cent requires a periapsis inside 0.2 kilometres. Getting the atmosphere wrong by a factor of 2 moves the aim point by 7.6 kilometres, which is 30.7 times the corridor's own width — so a ballistic vehicle aiming at a planet whose density is known to a factor of two misses by more than the tolerance allows, and the manoeuvre has to be flown rather than aimed. Spaceflight

A manoeuvre that has never been flown once

Arrive on a hyperbola, dip once through the atmosphere, leave on a bound orbit having spent no propellant. The saving is a kilometre a second or more, the physics is the same as an entry corridor, and nobody has done it — because the corridor is a tenth of a kilometre wide and the density is known to a factor of two.

How many planets a star has is the hardest thing a catalogue measures. The multiplicity distribution a transit catalogue would contain, for systems that all truly hold 5 planets, at four mutual inclination dispersions. 40,000 systems are drawn per dispersion with an isotropic viewing direction and Rayleigh-distributed inclinations about a common plane, at semi-major axes of 12, 16, 21, 27, 34 stellar radii; the bars are conditioned on at least one planet transiting, which is what makes a system appear in a catalogue at all. At 0.5° of dispersion 33 per cent of the detected systems show all 5 planets and the mean apparent multiplicity is 3.13; at 10° it is 1.39, with 68 per cent of them showing exactly one. Every one of those systems has 5 planets. The entire difference between a catalogue of singles and a catalogue of compact multiples is one number that nothing in the light curve measures. And the two effects run in opposite directions: the fraction of stars showing any planet RISES with the dispersion — 8%, 9%, 12%, 19% across the four — because scattering the orbits gives more of them a chance to cross the line of sight, while the number seen per detected star falls by a factor of 2.2. A survey that scatters its systems finds more stars with planets and fewer planets per star, and neither number on its own says which has happened. What no figure here can show is the true dispersion, because the observable is the ratio of those two and a system with fewer planets and a tighter plane reproduces it exactly. Exoplanets

How many planets a star has is not a measurement

Draw five thousand identical five-planet systems, scatter their orbital planes by half a degree, and a third of the detections show all five. Scatter them by ten degrees and two thirds show exactly one. Every system has five.

One square root that raises the orbit and turns it. The velocity budget from a 300 km circular orbit to geostationary, against the plane change carried out along the way. Edelbaum's closed form — √(v₁² + v₂² − 2v₁v₂cos(½πΔi)) with Δi in radians — puts the whole continuous manoeuvre in one square root, and at Δi = 0 it collapses to |v₁ − v₂| = 4.651 km/s, which is the spiral's cost with no plane change in it. The two-impulse curve puts its rotation into the circularisation burn at apoapsis, where the vehicle is moving at 1.608 km/s and a rotation is cheap. At 28.5° the continuous transfer costs 5.951 km/s against the impulsive 4.256 — the plane change adds 1.300 to one and 0.363 to the other. That is the opposite of the usual claim that low thrust turns for free. It turns continuously, which is not the same thing: the gain is that the propellant is not the budget, and the Δv is worse here as it is everywhere else. Spaceflight

One square root that raises the orbit and turns it

Edelbaum put the plane change inside the same radical as the raise, and the half-pi in its cosine is the whole result — a continuous turn costs π/2 times an impulsive one below 140° and less above it.

A wall measures a ratio, and a ratio is a line. The tidal quality factor against the system's age, with each line the locus of one measured circularisation boundary. For a planet the eccentricity damping time τₑ goes as Q′P^(13/3), so the cut-off period goes as (age/Q′)^(3/13) and only the ratio of the two appears. A measured wall is therefore a straight line of slope exactly 1 in this plane and never a point on it: a 5-day boundary is consistent with Q′ = 2·10⁵ in a one-billion-year-old system and with Q′ = 2·10⁶ in a ten-billion-year-old one, and nothing in the light curve chooses. The stellar version of this measurement escapes because the cluster supplies the age, from a main-sequence turn-off that owes the tide nothing — which is why a cut-off period read off four clusters is a dissipation measurement and the same wall in the hot-Jupiter plane is not. The shaded band is what a field star's age is actually worth: known to a factor of 3, it leaves Q′ known to a factor of 3 and no better, against a quantity whose published values for giant planets span 10⁴ to 10⁹. What would break the degeneracy is a second measurement with a different power of P in it — an orbital decay rate, which goes as Q′⁻¹ with no age in it at all, and which has now been measured for one planet. Orbits

A wall measures a ratio, and a ratio is a line

The same circularisation boundary drawn for planets probes the dissipation inside the planet rather than inside the star. But the boundary depends only on age over Q′, so with no cluster to date the system the measurement is a line in a plane and never a point on it.

Two damping times, one crossing, and the slope that separates them. Circularisation timescale against orbital period for the two tidal mechanisms, both logarithmic, normalised to 1.217 Gyr at 10 days. On logarithmic axes a power law is a straight line and the index is its slope, so the figure's content is that the two lines have different slopes and one crossing. The equilibrium tide gives 5.33, the bulge raised on a convective envelope being dragged ahead by a viscosity that is turbulent convection itself; the dynamical tide gives 7, gravity waves launched at the convective boundary carrying angular momentum to wherever they break. The horizontal lines are the ages of populations a boundary can be read in: where each curve crosses one is the wall that population shows — at 0.125 Gyr, 6.5 days against 7.2; at 0.625 Gyr, 8.8 days against 9.1; at 4 Gyr, 12.5 days against 11.9; at 10 Gyr, 14.8 days against 13.5. One cluster measures one number and both theories have a free normalisation, so one cluster cannot choose. The separation across every age available is a factor of 1.11. The discriminator that does not depend on the normalisation is mass: the equilibrium tide needs a convective envelope, and above about 1.3 solar masses there is not one, so the two predict different behaviour on either side of a boundary the theory names in advance. That is a measurement about where the wall stops behaving, not about where it is — and it is the reason the samples had to grow from tens of binaries per cluster to hundreds. Orbits

Two damping times, one crossing, and the slope that separates them

The equilibrium tide gives a damping time going as the sixteen-thirds power of the period and the dynamical tide as the seventh. One cluster measures one number and both theories have a free normalisation, so one cluster cannot choose.

An eccentricity of 0.4 swings the surface by 126 K or by 0.1, depending on the length of the year. The peak-to-trough swing in surface temperature over one orbit, against orbital period, for a planet with eccentricity 0.4 receiving on average the flux the Earth does, for surface layers of 1, 10, 50 metres of water. The dashed line is the 126 K the surface would swing through with no heat capacity. Every curve rises from near zero at short periods, where the orbit is over before the layer can respond and the planet feels only the average flux, towards the full swing at long periods, where every part of the orbit lasts long enough to be felt in full. The crossover is where the orbital period is comparable with the layer's thermal time. The vertical marks are the orbital periods of the Earth-flux orbit round stars of 0.1 M☉ (7 days), 0.5 M☉ (0.2 years), 1 M☉ (0.9 years). At a fixed eccentricity a planet in the habitable zone of a small star is thermally averaging almost regardless of how much water it has, and one round a Sun-like star is not unless it has an ocean — the ordering is set by the star through the period, which is the one quantity the flux-averaged habitable zone discards. Exoplanets

A year too short to feel its own eccentricity

A planet on an eccentric orbit can have a comfortable average and murderous extremes, and the habitable zone is drawn from the average. Whether the surface lives on the average or on the extremes is not decided by the flux at all — it is the ratio of how long the surface takes to change temperature to how long the year lasts, and the star sets the year.

A rubble pile that splits below a mass ratio of 0.204 can lose its piece; above it, the piece stays. The total energy of two spherical components of equal density in contact, spinning together at the rate at which their mutual gravity just holds them against the spin, against the mass ratio of the smaller to the larger, in units of G m₁²/R₁. The energy is the kinetic energy of the rotating pair minus their mutual gravitational binding. When the smaller piece is a small fraction of the whole, the spin carries more energy than the binding and the total is positive: a body spun to breakup that sheds a fragment of that size has enough energy for the fragment to escape entirely, becoming a separate asteroid on a nearly identical orbit. The total changes sign at q = 0.204. Above that ratio the pair cannot separate without an energy source; it stays as a binary, orbiting and eventually synchronising, or re-accretes. As q goes to zero the energy tends to 0.2 G m₁²/R₁, the rotational energy of the primary alone at its breakup rate. Nothing in the threshold depends on the size or the density of the body — it is a pure number from the geometry of two touching spheres — and asteroid pairs sharing an orbit have been found overwhelmingly with estimated mass ratios below it. Orbits

A split that decides whether the piece can leave

A rubble pile spun past its limit splits in two, and whether the smaller piece escapes or stays in orbit is not a matter of luck. Two touching spheres spinning at their shared limit have positive total energy only when the smaller is less than 0.204 of the larger's mass — a number with no size and no density in it. Below it the pieces can become a pair of asteroids on nearly identical orbits; above it, a binary. And the larger the piece that leaves, the slower the body left behind.

All themes