Fragmenting planets sweeping extremely close to their stars might be the cause of mysterious cosmic blasts of radio waves.

Milliseconds-long fast radio bursts, or FRBs, erupt from distant cosmic locales. Some of these bursts blast only once and others repeat. A new computer calculation suggests the repetitive kind could be due to a planet interacting with its magnetic host star, researchers report in the March 20 Astrophysical Journal.

FRBs are relative newcomers to astronomical research. Ever since the first was discovered in 2007, researchers have added hundreds to the tally. Scientists have theorized dozens of ways the two different types of FRBs can occur, and nearly all theories include compact, magnetic stellar remnants known as neutron stars. Some ideas include powerful radio flares from magnetars, the most magnetic neutron stars imaginable (SN: 6/4/20). Others suggest a fast-spinning neutron star, or even asteroids interacting with magnetars (SN: 2/23/22).

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“How fast radio bursts are produced is still up for debate,” says astronomer Yong-Feng Huang of Nanjing University in China.

Huang and his colleagues considered a new way to make the repeating flares: interactions between a neutron star and an orbiting planet (SN: 3/5/94). Such planets can get exceedingly close to these stars, so the team calculated what might happen to a planet in a highly elliptical orbit around a neutron star. When the planet swings very close to its star, the star’s gravity pulls more on the planet than when the planet is at its farthest orbital point, elongating and distorting it. This “tidal pull,” Huang says, will rip some small clumps off the planet. Each clump in the team’s calculation is just a few kilometers wide and maybe one-millionth the mass of the planet, he adds.

Then the fireworks start. Neutron stars spew a wind of radiation and particles, much like our own sun but more extreme. When one of these clumps passes through that stellar wind, the interaction “can produce really strong radio emissions,” Huang says. If that happens when the clump appears to pass in front of the star from Earth’s perspective, we might see it as a fast radio burst. Each burst in a repeating FRB signal could be caused by one of these clumps interacting with the neutron star’s wind during each close planet pass, he says. After that interaction, what remains of the clump drifts in orbit around the star, but away from Earth’s perspective, so we never see it again.

Comparing the calculated bursts to two known repeaters — the first ever discovered, which repeats roughly every 160 days, and a more recent discovery that repeats every 16 days, the team found the fragmenting planet scenario could explain how often the bursts happened and how bright they were (SN: 3/2/16).

The star’s strong gravitational “tidal” pull on the planet during each close pass might change the planet’s orbit over time, says astrophysicist Wenbin Lu of Princeton University, who was not involved in this study but who investigates possible FRB scenarios. “Every orbit, there is some energy loss from the system,” he says. “Due to tidal interactions between the planet and the star, the orbit very quickly shrinks.” So it’s possible that the orbit could shrink so fast that FRB signals wouldn’t last long enough for a chance detection, he says.

But the orbit change could also give astronomers a way to check this scenario as an FRB source. Observing repeating FRBs over several years to track any changes in the time between bursts could narrow down whether this hypothesis could explain the observations, Lu says. “That may be a good clue.” More

Like a dried-up lemon from the back of the fridge, neutron stars are less squeezable than expected, physicists report.

New measurements of the most massive known neutron star find that it has a surprisingly large diameter, suggesting that the matter within isn’t as squishy as some theories predicted, physicists with the Neutron star Interior Composition Explorer, or NICER, reported April 17 at a virtual meeting of the American Physical Society.

When a dying star explodes, it can leave behind a memento: a remnant crammed with neutrons. These neutron stars are extraordinarily dense — like compressing Mount Everest into a teaspoon, said NICER astrophysicist Zaven Arzoumanian of NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md. “We don’t know what happens to matter when it’s crushed to this extreme point.”

The more massive the neutron star, the more extreme the conditions in its core. Jammed together at tremendous densities, particles may form unusual states of matter. For example, particles known as quarks — usually contained within protons and neutrons — may roam freely in a neutron star’s center.

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The core’s composition determines its squeezability. For example, if quarks are free agents within the most massive neutron stars, the immense pressure will compress the neutron star’s core more than if quarks remain within neutrons. Because of that compressibility, for neutron stars, more mass doesn’t necessarily translate to a larger diameter. If neutron star matter is squishy, the objects could counterintuitively shrink as they become more massive (SN: 8/12/20).

To understand how neutron star innards respond to being put through the cosmic wringer, scientists used the X-ray telescope NICER aboard the International Space Station to estimate the diameters of rapidly spinning neutron stars called pulsars. In 2020, NICER sized up a pulsar with a mass about 1.4 times the sun’s: It was about 26 kilometers wide (SN: 1/3/20).

Researchers have now gauged the girth of the heftiest confirmed neutron star, with about 2.1 times the mass of the sun. But the beefy neutron star’s radius is about the same as its more lightweight compatriot’s, according to two independent teams within the NICER collaboration. Combining NICER data with measurements from the European Space Agency’s XMM-Newton satellite, one team found a diameter of around 25 kilometers while the other estimated 27 kilometers, physicists reported in a news conference and in two talks at the meeting.

Many theories predict that the more massive neutron star should have a radius that is smaller. “That it is not tells us that, in some sense, the matter inside neutron stars is not as squeezable as many people had predicted,” said astrophysicist Cole Miller of the University of Maryland in College Park, who presented the second result.

“This is a bit puzzling,” said astrophysicist Sanjay Reddy of the University of Washington in Seattle, who was not involved in the research. The finding suggests that inside a neutron star, quarks are not confined within neutrons, but they still interact with one another strongly, rather than being free to roam about unencumbered, Reddy said.

The measurements reveal another neutron star enigma. Pulsars emit beams of X-rays from two hot spots associated with the magnetic poles of the pulsar. According to the textbook picture, those beams should be emitted from opposite sides. But for both of the neutron stars measured by NICER, the hot spots were in the same hemisphere.

“It implies that we have a somewhat complex magnetic field,” said NICER astrophysicist Anna Watts of the University of Amsterdam, who presented the first team’s result. “Your beautiful cartoon of a pulsar … is for these two stars completely wrong. And that’s brilliant.”

Beams of radiation are emitted from the magnetic poles of spinning neutron stars called pulsars. Scientists typically envision pulsars with two beams on opposite sides, like a lighthouse. But the beams of a newly measured pulsar (illustrated) come from the same hemisphere.NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center More

The carbon that once warmed Mars’ atmosphere has been locked in its rusty rocks for millennia. 

That’s the story revealed by a hidden cache of carbon-bearing minerals unearthed by NASA’s Curiosity rover along its route up a Martian mountain. The finding is the first evidence of a carbon cycle on the Red Planet, but also suggests that Mars lost its life-friendly climate because that carbon cycle was slow, researchers report in the April 18 Science. More

The infant universe transforms from a featureless landscape to an intricate web in a new supercomputer simulation of the cosmos’s formative years.

An animation from the simulation shows our universe changing from a smooth, cold gas cloud to the lumpy scattering of galaxies and stars that we see today. It’s the most complete, detailed and accurate reproduction of the universe’s evolution yet produced, researchers report in the November Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society.

This virtual glimpse into the cosmos’s past is the result of CoDaIII, the third iteration of the Cosmic Dawn Project, which traces the history of the universe, beginning with the “cosmic dark ages” about 10 million years after the Big Bang. At that point, hot gas produced at the very beginning of time, about 13.8 billion years ago, had cooled to a featureless cloud devoid of light, says astronomer Paul Shapiro of the University of Texas at Austin.

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The universe was a cold, dark place 10 million years after the Big Bang. Hydrogen gas began to clump together 100 million years later, forming dense regions (white) that gave birth to the first stars and galaxies, as seen in this animation from a new simulation of the early universe. Light radiating from the stars (blue) heated the gas around the galaxies as matter collected in a weblike arrangement. The pink bursts are high-temperature regions that appeared as some stars exploded. The galaxies and stars we see today lie along the filaments that resulted from the complicated interplay between matter and starlight as the universe evolved.

Roughly 100 million years later, tiny ripples in the gas left over from the Big Bang caused the gases to clump together (SN: 2/19/15). This led to long, threadlike strands that formed a web of matter where galaxies and stars were born. 

 As radiation from the early galaxies illuminated the universe, it ripped electrons from atoms in the once-cold gas clouds during a period called the epoch of reionization, which continued until about 700 million years after the Big Bang (SN: 2/6/17).

CoDaIII is the first simulation to fully account for the complicated interaction between radiation and the flow of matter in the universe, Shapiro says. It spans the time from the cosmic dark ages and through the next several billion years as the distribution of matter in the modern universe formed.

The animation from the simulation, Shapiro says, graphically shows how the structure of the early universe is “imprinted on the galaxies today, which remember their youth, or their birth or their ancestors from the epoch of reionization.” More

For 76 years, Pluto was the beloved ninth planet. No one cared that it was the runt of the solar system, with a moon, Charon, half its size. No one minded that it had a tilted, eccentric orbit. Pluto was a weirdo, but it was our weirdo.

“Children identify with its smallness,” wrote science writer Dava Sobel in her 2005 book The Planets. “Adults relate to its inadequacy, its marginal existence as a misfit.”

When Pluto was excluded from the planetary display in 2000 at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City, children sent hate mail to Neil deGrasse Tyson, director of the museum’s planetarium. Likewise, there was a popular uproar when 15 years ago, in August 2006, the International Astronomical Union, or IAU, wrote a new definition of “planet” that left Pluto out. The new definition required that a body 1) orbit the sun, 2) have enough mass to be spherical (or close) and 3) have cleared the neighborhood around its orbit of other bodies. Objects that meet the first two criteria but not the third, like Pluto, were designated “dwarf planets.”

Science is not sentimental. It doesn’t care what you’re fond of, or what mnemonic you learned in elementary school. Science appeared to have won the day. Scientists learned more about the solar system and revised their views accordingly.

“I believe that the decision taken was the correct one,” says astronomer Catherine Cesarsky of CEA Saclay in France, who was president of the IAU in 2006. “Pluto is very different from the eight solar system planets, and it would have been very difficult to keep changing the number of solar system planets as more massive [objects beyond Neptune] were being discovered. The intention was not at all to demote Pluto, but on the contrary to promote it as [a] prototype of a new class of solar system objects, of great importance and interest.”

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For a long time, I shared this view. I’ve been writing about Pluto since my very first newspaper gig at the Cornell Daily Sun, when I was a junior in college in 2006. I interviewed some of my professors about the IAU’s decision. One, planetary scientist Jean-Luc Margot, who is now at UCLA, called it “a triumph of science over emotion. Science is all about recognizing that earlier ideas may have been wrong,” he said at the time. “Pluto is finally where it belongs.”

But another, planetary scientist Jim Bell, now at Arizona State University in Tempe, thought the decision was a travesty. He still does. The idea that planets have to clear their orbits is particularly irksome, he says. The ability to collect or cast out all that debris doesn’t just depend on the body itself.

Everything with interesting geology should be a planet, Bell told me recently. “I’m a lumper, not a splitter,” he says. “It doesn’t matter where you are, it matters what you are.”

Not everyone agrees with him. “Fifteen years ago we finally got it right,” says planetary scientist Mike Brown of Caltech, who uses the Twitter handle @plutokiller because his research helped knock Pluto out of the planetary pantheon. “Pluto had been wrong all along.”

But since 2006, we’ve learned that Pluto has an atmosphere and maybe even clouds. It has mountains made of water ice, fields of frozen nitrogen, methane snow–capped peaks, and dunes and volcanoes. “It’s a dynamic, complex world unlike any other orbiting the sun,” journalist Christopher Crockett wrote in Science News in 2015 when NASA’s New Horizons spacecraft flew by Pluto.

Observations from NASA’s New Horizons mission showed that the surface of Pluto’s Sputnik Planitia region is covered in churning nitrogen ice “cells” (white polygonal blocks) that constantly bring fresh material up to the surface from below.JHU-APL, NASA, SWRI

Closer views highlight the rugged water-ice mountains that border some of these cells.JHU-APL, NASA, SWRI

The New Horizons mission showed that Pluto has fascinating and active geology to rival that of any rocky world in the inner solar system. And that solidified planetary scientist Philip Metzger’s view that the IAU definition missed the mark.

“There was an immediate reaction against the dumb definition” when it was proposed, says Metzger, of the University of Central Florida in Orlando. Since then, he and colleagues have been refining their views: “Why do we have this intuition that says that it’s dumb?”

Retelling the tale

It turns out that the “we just learned more” narrative isn’t really true, Metzger says. Though the official story is that Pluto was reclassified because new data came in, it’s not that simple. Teaching that narrative is bad for science, and for science education, he says.

The truth is, there’s no single definition of a planet — and I’m beginning to believe that’s a good thing.

For centuries, the word “planet” was a much more inclusive term. When Galileo turned his telescope at Jupiter, any largish moving body in the sky was considered a planet — including moons. When astronomers discovered the rocky bodies we now call asteroids in the 1800s, those too were called planets, at least at first.

Pluto was considered a planet from the very beginning. When Clyde Tombaugh, an amateur astronomer from Kansas newly recruited to the Lowell Observatory in Flagstaff, Ariz., spotted it in photos taken in January 1930, he rushed to the observatory director and declared: “I have found your Planet X.”

Clyde Tombaugh, shown here with a homemade telescope, discovered Pluto in 1930 when he was 24 years old.GL Archive/Alamy Stock Photo

The discovery was no accident. In 1903, U.S. astronomer Percival Lowell hypothesized that a hidden planet seven times the mass of Earth orbited 45 times farther from the sun. Lowell had searched for what he called Planet X until he died in 1916. The search continued without him.

The new planet was thought to be “black as coal, nearly as dense as iron, twice as dense as the heaviest earthly surface rocks,” Science News Letter, the predecessor of Science News, reported in 1930.

Further research showed Lowell had grossly overestimated Pluto’s mass: It’s more like one five-hundredth the mass of Earth. Things got even weirder when scientists realized Pluto wasn’t alone out there. In 1992, an object about a tenth the diameter of Pluto was found orbiting the sun “in the deep freeze of space well beyond the orbits of Pluto and Neptune,” as Science News described it.

Since then, more than 2,000 icy bodies have been found hiding in that frigid zone dubbed the Kuiper Belt, and there are many more out there. Awareness of Pluto’s neighbors brought new questions: What characteristics could unite these strange new worlds with the more familiar ones? And what sets them apart? With so many new objects coming into focus, there was a growing desire for a formal definition of “planet.”

In 2005, Brown spotted the first of the Kuiper Belt bodies that seemed to be larger than Pluto. If Pluto was the ninth planet, then surely the new discovery, nicknamed Xena (in honor of the TV show Xena: Warrior Princess), should be the 10th. But if Xena was an icy leftover from the formation of the solar system undeserving of the “planet” title, so too was Pluto.

Tensions over how to categorize Pluto and Xena came to a head in 2006 at a meeting in Prague of the IAU. On the final day, August 24, after much acrimonious debate, a new definition of “planet” was put to a vote. Pluto and Xena got the boot. Xena was aptly renamed Eris, the Greek goddess of discord.

On August 24, 2006, in Prague, members of the International Astronomical Union voted for a new definition of planet that redesignated Pluto and its neighbor Eris as dwarf planets, shrinking the total number of planets in the solar system to eight.Michal Cizek/AFP/Getty Images

Textbooks were revised, posters were reprinted, but many planetary scientists, especially those who study Pluto, never bothered to change. “Planetary scientists don’t use the IAU’s definition in publishing papers,” Metzger says. “We pretty much just ignore it.”

In part that might be cheek, or spite. But Metzger and colleagues think there’s good reason to reject the definition. Metzger, Bell and others — including Alan Stern of the Southwest Research Institute, the planetary scientist who led the New Horizons mission and has argued since before the discovery of the Kuiper Belt that the solar system contains hundreds of “planets” — make their case in a pair of recent papers, one published in 2019 in Icarus and one forthcoming.

After examining hundreds of scientific papers, textbooks and letters dating back centuries, the researchers show that the way scientists and the public have used the word “planet” has changed over time, but not in the way most people think.

In and out

Consider Ceres, the first of what are now known as dwarf planets to be discovered. Located in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, Ceres was considered a planet after its 1801 discovery, too. It’s often said that Ceres was demoted after astronomers found the rest of the bodies in the asteroid belt. By the end of the 1800s, with hundreds of asteroids piling up, Ceres was stripped of its planetary title thanks to its neighbors. In that sense, the story goes, Ceres and Pluto suffered the same fate.

But that’s not the real story, Metzger and colleagues found. Ceres and other asteroids were considered planets, sometimes dubbed “minor planets,” well into the 20th century. A 1951 article in Science News Letter declared that “thousands of planets are known to circle our sun,” although most are “small fry.” These “baby planets” can be as small as a city block or as wide as Pennsylvania.

The dwarf planet Ceres orbits in the asteroid belt. It was also once considered a planet. NASA’s Dawn mission visited the dwarf planet in 2015 and found that it is also a geologically interesting world.JPL-Caltech, NASA, UCLA, MPS, DLR, IDA

It wasn’t until the 1960s, when spacecraft offered better observations of these bodies, that the term “minor planets” fell out of fashion. While the largest asteroids still looked planetlike, most small asteroids turned out to be lumpy and irregular in shape, suggesting a different origin or different geophysics than bigger, rounder planets. The fact that asteroids didn’t “clear their orbits” had nothing to do with the name change, Metzger argues.

And what about moons? Scientists called them “planets” or “secondary planets” until the 1920s. Surprisingly, it was nonscientific publications, notably astrological almanacs that used the positions of celestial bodies for horoscope readings, that insisted on the simplicity of a limited number of planets moving through the fixed sphere of stars.

Metzger thinks that older definition of a planet that included moons was forgotten when planetary science went through a “Great Depression” between about 1910 and 1950. So many asteroids had been discovered that searching for new ones or refining their orbits was getting boring. Telescopes weren’t good enough to start exploring asteroids’ geology yet. Other parts of space science were way more exciting, so attention went there.

But new data that came with space travel brought moons back into the planetary fold. Starting in the 1960s, “planet” reappeared in the scientific literature as a description for satellites, at least the large, round ones.

Real-world usage

The planet definition that includes certain moons, asteroids and Kuiper Belt objects has had staying power because it’s useful, Metzger says. Planetary scientists’ work includes comparing a place like Mars (a planet) to Titan (a moon) to Triton (a moon that was probably born in the Kuiper Belt and captured by Neptune long ago) to Pluto (a dwarf planet). It’s scientifically useful to have a word to describe the cosmic bodies where interesting geophysics, including the conditions that enable life, occur, he says. There’s all sorts of extra complexity, from mountains to atmospheres to oceans and rivers, when rocky worlds grow big enough for their own gravity to make them spherical.

Pluto and hundreds or thousands of other objects that rival Pluto in size and interest orbit in the icy back of the solar system’s fridge, called the Kuiper Belt (white fuzzy ring).NASA

“We’re not claiming that we have the perfect definition of a planet and that all scientists ought to adopt our definition,” he adds. That’s the same mistake the IAU made. “We’re saying this is something that ought to be debated.”

A more inclusive definition of “planet” would also give a more accurate concept of what the solar system is. Emphasizing the eight major planets suggests that they dominate the solar system, when in fact the smaller stuff outnumbers those worlds tremendously. The major planets don’t even stay put in their orbits over long time-scales. The gas giants have shuffled around in the past. Teaching the view of the solar system that includes just eight static planets doesn’t do that dynamism justice.

Caltech’s Brown disagrees. Having the gravitational oomph to nudge other bodies in and out of line is an important feature of a world, he says. Plus, the eight planets clearly dominate our solar system, he says. “If you dropped me in the solar system for the first time, and I looked around and saw what was there, nobody would say anything other than, ‘Wow, there are these eight — choose your word — and a lot of other little things.’ ”

Pluto rises above the horizon of its largest moon, Charon, in this illustration.Mark Garlick/Science Photo Library/GettyImages Plus

Thinking of planets that way leads to big-picture questions about how the solar system put itself together.

One common argument in favor of the IAU’s definition is that it keeps the number of planets manageable. Can you imagine if there were hundreds or thousands of planets? How would the average person keep track of them all? What would we print on lunch boxes? I’m not making fun of this idea; as an astronomy writer who has been obsessed with space since I was 8, I would be reluctant to turn people off to the planets.

But Metzger thinks teaching just eight planets risks turning people off to all the rest of space. “Back in the early 2000s, there was a lot of excitement when astronomers were discovering new planets in our solar system,” he says. “All that excitement ended in 2006.” But those objects are still out there and are still worthy of interest. By now, there are at least 150 of these dwarf planets, and most people have no clue, he says.

This is the argument I find most compelling. Why do we need to limit the number of planets? Kids can memorize the names and characteristics of hundreds of dinosaurs, or Pokémon, for that matter. Why not encourage that for planets? Why not inspire students to rediscover and explore the space objects that most appeal to them?

I’ve come to think that what makes a planet may just be in the eye of the beholders. I may be a lumper, not a splitter, too.

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Pluto continues to charm us all, as shown in these 2015 interviews after New Horizons sent its images of the geologic richness of the dwarf planet. More