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    This is the first picture of a sunlike star with multiple exoplanets

    For the first time, an exoplanet family around a sunlike star has had its portrait taken. Astronomers used the Very Large Telescope in Chile to snap a photo of two giant planets orbiting a young star with about the same mass as the sun, researchers report July 22 in The Astrophysical Journal Letters.
    The star, called TYC 8998-760-1, is about 300 light-years away in the constellation Musca. At just 17 million years old, the planetary family is a youngster compared with the 4-billion-year-old solar system.
    Although astronomers have found thousands of exoplanets, most aren’t observed directly. Instead they are spotted as shadows crossing in front of their stars, or inferred as unseen forces tugging at their stars.
    Only a few tens of planets have been photographed around other stars, and just two of those stars have more than one planet. Neither is sunlike, says astronomer Alexander Bohn of Leiden University in the Netherlands — one is more massive than the sun, the other less massive.
    Both of this star’s planets are unlike anything seen in the solar system. The inner planet, a giant weighing 14 times the mass of Jupiter, is 160 times farther from its star than Earth is from the sun. The outer one weighs six times Jupiter’s mass and orbits at twice its sibling’s distance. In comparison, the Voyager 1 spacecraft, which flew past the boundary marking the sun’s magnetic influence and into interstellar space in 2012, is still closer to the sun than either planet is to its star (SN: 9/12/13).
    This exoplanet family could provide new insight into how solar systems can form. “As with many other exoplanet discoveries, this discovery makes us aware of other scenarios that we did not think of,” Bohn says. More

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    Pinning down the sun’s birthplace just got more complicated

    The sun could come from a large, loose-knit clan or a small family that’s always fighting.
    New computer simulations of young stars suggest two pathways to forming the solar system. The sun could have formed in a calm, large association of 10,000 stars or more, like NGC 2244 in the present-day Rosette Nebula, an idea that’s consistent with previous research. Or the sun could be from a violent, compact cluster with about 1,000 stars, like the Pleiades, researchers report July 2 in the Astrophysical Journal.Whether a star forms in a tight, rowdy cluster or a loose association can influence its future prospects. If a star is born surrounded by lots of massive siblings that explode as supernovas before a cluster spreads out, for example, that star will have more heavy elements to build planets with (SN: 8/9/19).
    To nail down a stellar birthplace, astronomers have considered the solar system’s chemistry, its shape and many other factors. Most astronomers who study the sun’s birthplace think the gentle, large association scenario is most likely, says astrophysicist Fred Adams of the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, who was not involved in the new work.
    But most previous studies didn’t include stars’ motions over time. So astrophysicists Susanne Pfalzner and Kirsten Vincke, both of the Max Planck Institute for Radio Astronomy in Bonn, Germany, ran thousands of computer simulations to see how often different kinds of young stellar families produce solar systems like ours.

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    The main solar system feature that the pair looked for was the distance to the farthest planet from the star. Planet-forming disks can extend to hundreds of astronomical units, or AU, the distance between the Earth and the sun (SN: 7/16/19). Theoretically, planets should be able to form all the way to the edge. But the sun’s planetary material is mostly packed within the orbit of Neptune.
    “You have a steep drop at 30 AU, where Neptune is,” Pfalzner says. “And this is not what you expect from a disk.”
    In 2018, Pfalzner and her colleagues showed that a passing star could have truncated and warped the solar system’s outer edge long ago. If that’s what happened, it could help point to the sun’s birth environment, Pfalzner reasoned. The key was to simulate groupings dense enough that stellar flybys happen regularly, but not so dense that the encounters happen too often and destroy disks before planets can grow up.
    “We were hoping we’d get one answer,” Pfalzner says. “It turned out there are two possibilities.” And they are wildly different from each other.
    Large associations have more stars, but the stars are more spread out and generally leave each other alone. Those associations can stay together for up to 100 million years. Compact clusters, on the other hand, see more violent encounters between young stars and don’t last as long. The stars shove each other away within a few million years.
    “This paper opens up another channel for what the sun’s birth environment looked like,” Adams says, referring to the violent cluster notion.
    The new study doesn’t cover every aspect of how a tight cluster could have affected the nascent solar system. The findings don’t account for how radiation from other stars in the cluster could erode planet-forming disks, for example, which could have shrunk the sun’s disk or even prevented the solar system from forming. The study also doesn’t explain certain heavy elements found in meteorites, which are thought to come from a nearby supernova and so could require the sun come from a long-lived stellar family.
    “I think [the research] is an interesting addition to the debate,” Adams says. “It remains to be seen how the pieces of the puzzle fit together.”
    Pfalzner thinks that the star cluster would break apart before radiation made a big difference, and there are other explanations for the heavy elements apart from a single supernova. She hopes future studies will be able to use that sort of cosmic chemistry to narrow the sun’s birthplace down even further.
    “For us humans, this is an important question,” Pfalzner says. “It’s part of our history.” More

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    The closest images of the sun ever taken reveal ‘campfire’ flares

    Get out the marshmallows and toasting sticks. The closest images yet taken of the sun show tiny flares dubbed “campfires,” astronomers announced in a news conference on July 16.
    The images are the first from Solar Orbiter, a new sun-watching spacecraft that’s a joint project between NASA and the European Space Agency.
    “By looking from close by, we get so much sharper images,” said David Berghmans of the Royal Observatory of Belgium in Brussels in the news conference. The pictures were better than the science team expected. “When the first images came in, the first thought was, ‘This is not possible! It cannot be that good.’”   
    These never-before-seen campfire flares are thought to be little relatives of larger solar flares, powerful magnetic outbursts that shoot bright spurts of radiation into space (SN: 9/11/17). Campfire flares are a million to a billion times as small as typical solar flares. The smallest ones in the Solar Orbiter images are a few hundred kilometers across, “about the size of a European country,” Berghmans said. It’s not clear yet whether the flickers are just scaled-down solar flares, or if the two phenomena have different driving mechanisms.

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    Solar physicists think campfires could help explain one of the biggest solar mysteries: why the solar corona, the sun’s wispy outer atmosphere, is millions of degrees hotter than the solar surface (SN: 8/20/17). Together, the small but ubiquitous flares could be a source of energy to the corona that astronomers haven’t accounted for.
    “These campfires are totally insignificant each by themselves, but summing up their effect all over the sun, they might be the dominant contribution to the heating of the solar corona,” said Frédéric Auchère of the Institut d’Astrophysique Spatiale in Orsay, France, in a news release.
    Solar Orbiter captured these pictures of “campfire” flares (indicated with arrows) on the sun in extreme ultraviolet wavelengths of light. The newly spotted flares may help heat the sun’s outer atmosphere.Solar Orbiter/EUI Team/ESA and NASA, CSL, IAS, MPS, PMOD/WRC, ROB, UCL/MSSL
    Solar Orbiter launched February 9 with a suite of scientific instruments to observe the sun and its surroundings (SN: 2/9/20). The new images were taken May 30 with the Extreme Ultraviolet Imager camera when the spacecraft was 77 million kilometers from the sun, about half the distance from Earth. Berghmans and Auchère are the principal investigators for the orbiter’s ultraviolet camera.
    Other spacecraft have swooped closer to the sun. The Parker Solar Probe has gotten as close as 24 million kilometers, collecting data but no direct photos because it gets too close (SN: 12/4/19). It will eventually reach 6 million kilometers from the sun’s surface. Ultimately, Solar Orbiter will come within about 42 million kilometers of the sun, and will be the first spacecraft to fly over the sun’s poles. More

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    Despite a new measurement, the debate over the universe’s expansion rages on

    When it comes to the expansion rate of the universe, physicists have apparently agreed to disagree.
    Two types of measurements clash over how fast the cosmos is expanding (SN: 7/30/19). Now, a new estimate from the Atacama Cosmology Telescope, or ACT, further entrenches this disagreement.
    To tease out the properties of the universe, ACT observes light emitted shortly after the Big Bang, known as the cosmic microwave background. Those observations reveal that the universe is expanding a rate of about 67.9 kilometers per second for each megaparsec (about 3 million light-years), physicists report in two papers posted online and submitted to arXiv.org. The number aligns with that of an earlier cosmic microwave background experiment called Planck (SN: 7/24/18).
    “As an independent experiment, we see the same thing,” says cosmologist Simone Aiola of the Flatiron Institute in New York City. Located in the Atacama Desert in Chile, ACT observes the cosmic microwave background with a higher resolution than Planck did.
    To measure the expansion of the universe, the Atacama Cosmology Telescope mapped out the cosmic microwave background (one portion shown). Colors represent differences in the polarization, the orientation of the light’s electromagnetic waves.ACT Collaboration
    Both ACT and Planck disagree with most estimates from objects that emitted their light more recently, such as exploding stars called supernovas and bright hearts of galaxies known as quasars. Those studies tend to indicate a faster expansion rate of around 74 kilometers per second per megaparsec.
    If no simple explanation can be found for the discrepancy, it could dramatically alter physicists’ understanding of the contents of the universe and how the cosmos changes over time. For example, dark energy, the shadowy stuff that causes the universe to expand at an accelerating rate, might behave differently than scientists thought.
    Some researchers had speculated that an unidentified source of experimental error in the Planck data could have accounted for the mismatch. But with the independent measurement from ACT, that explanation has gone out the window. That frees physicists to focus on other explanations, like potential issues with the supernova or quasar measurements, or the possibility of unexplained new physics phenomena.
    Now, says cosmologist Adam Riess of Johns Hopkins University and the Space Telescope Science Institute in Baltimore, “we can proceed without the niggling worries.” More

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    Two new books explore Mars — and what it means to be human

    Science writer Kate Greene couldn’t have known that her memoir about her time on a make-believe Mars mission would be published as millions of people on Earth isolated themselves in their homes for months amid a pandemic.

    But her book is one of two about Mars published this month that are oddly well-suited to the present moment. Once Upon a Time I Lived on Mars and Sarah Stewart Johnson’s The Sirens of Mars are both about exploration. Yet they’re also about many different types of isolation and the human yearning to not be alone.
    Greene participated in a mock Mars mission, called HI-SEAS, for Hawaii Space Exploration Analog and Simulation, in 2013. She and five others lived in a dome on a rocky, barren patch atop Mauna Loa volcano for four months with no fresh food, no fresh air (all excursions were conducted in clunky “spacesuits”) and no instantaneous contact with the outside world.
    NASA and other space agencies run such missions to figure out best practices for keeping astronauts sane and productive in isolated and stressful environments. It’s well-documented that boredom can lead to mistakes or inattention. Other simulated Mars missions suggest that astronauts isolated together could develop an us-versus-them mentality that would lead the crew to stop listening to mission control, which could be dangerous on a long mission.

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    With humor and sensitivity, Greene relates how her crew got along (or didn’t), what she read, what she ate and the time-delayed e-mails she exchanged with loved ones back on “Earth.” Through the book’s series of essays, she uses the mission as a lens to examine everything from the ethics and economics of space travel to the nature of time, love and home.
    Her descriptions of boredom and seclusion feel especially apt in a time of social distancing: “the way certain aspects of your environment, daily schedule and conversations smooth over, lose their texture.” Greene relates her experience to astronaut Michael Collins’ time orbiting in the Apollo 11 capsule alone while his crewmates walked on the moon. She connects both of those experiences to that of her brother, who spent the last year and a half of his life confined to a hospital room.
    “On this oasis of a planet,” she writes, “there are so many ways to feel isolated, each of us with the potential to sit with the terror of being alive and possibly alone in the cosmos.”

    The Sirens of Mars starts with a much broader view of Mars exploration. In lyrical, engaging writing, Stewart Johnson, a planetary scientist, chronicles how our perception of Mars has swung from a world teeming with life, to definitely dead and boring, and back again over and over since the invention of telescopes.
    Stewart Johnson brings together a cast of characters to tell this history, from Galileo to the present-day team working on the Curiosity rover. Those characters include astronomer Carl Sagan, whose Cosmos TV series Stewart Johnson watched as a child. Sagan was almost ridiculed out of science for his obsession with “exobiology.”
    She also introduces less famous but equally important people, like Sagan’s colleague Wolf Vishniac, whose “Wolf Trap” life-detection experiment was cut from NASA’s life-hunting Viking landers in the 1970s. To get over his disappointment, Vishniac went searching for microbes in Antarctica and died in an accident there before the Viking missions launched (SN: 12/22/73).
    In this sweeping history of human fascination with the Red Planet, Stewart Johnson also tells a personal story of finding her place in the world, from an inquisitive child to an unrooted adventurer to a wife and mother and member of a scientific team.
    She makes a clear case that the search for life on Mars is an effort to not be alone. In one of the most poignant scenes in her book, she is hiking on Mauna Kea — the next volcano over from Greene’s Mars habitat — and finds a fern growing amid the volcanic desolation.
    “It was then, on that trip, that the idea of looking for life in the universe began to make sense to me,” she writes. “I suddenly saw something I might haunt the stratosphere for, something for which I’d fall into the sea…. a chance to discover the smallest breath in the deepest night and, in so doing, vanquish the void that lurked between human existence and all else in the cosmos.”
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    How upcoming missions to Mars will help predict its wild dust storms

    It started with a spring breeze. The Opportunity rover watched with its robotic eyes as the wind blowing through Perseverance Valley kicked puffs of rusty Mars dust into the air. In more than 14 Earth years of exploring the Red Planet, the rover had seen plenty of this kind of weather.
    But the dust grew thicker. Small flecks swirled like wildfire smoke through the atmosphere, turning sun-filled midday into dusk, then night. Within a week, the dust storm spanned more than twice the area of the contiguous United States and eventually encircled the whole planet, allowing just 5 percent of the normal amount of light to reach Opportunity’s solar panels. The rover went quiet.
    “It got so bad so quickly, we didn’t even have time to react,” says Keri Bean of NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena, Calif. Bean had joined Opportunity’s rover-operating team just before that May 2018 storm.
    Dust storms like that one, which snuffed out Opportunity for good, are the most dramatic and least predictable events on the Red Planet (SN: 3/16/19, p. 7). Such storms can make the nail-biting process of landing on Mars even more dangerous and could certainly make life difficult for future human explorers.

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    Despite almost 50 years of study, scientists are missing some key data that would help explain how dust gets kicked into the air to form planet-wide storms and what keeps it circulating for weeks or months at a time.
    “We just do not understand how dust storms form on Mars,” says planetary meteorologist Scott Guzewich of NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md. History has shown that certain regions and seasons are more prone to dust than others. “Other than that, we’re … blind.”
    Mars missions set to launch this summer, from the United States, China and the United Arab Emirates, will help solve that pressing mystery. NASA’s new rover, Perseverance, will carry a suite of weather sensors called MEDA, for Mars Environmental Dynamics Analyzer. Those sensors will build on decades of Mars exploration and fill in missing puzzle pieces.
    “Predicting dust is the ultimate goal” for MEDA, says planetary scientist Germán Martínez of the Lunar and Planetary Institute in Houston. The data MEDA will collect will be “the most substantial contribution to this topic so far.”
    Dust, dust everywhere
    Dust is as important to weather on Mars as water is on Earth. With no oceans, scant water vapor and a thin atmosphere, Martian weather can be monotonously calm for about half the Martian year, which lasts close to 687 Earth days. But when the Red Planet’s orbit brings it closer to the sun, dust storm season begins.
    In the 10-month dusty season, which corresponds to spring and summer in the southern hemisphere, extra sunlight warms the atmosphere. That warmth generates strong winds as air moves from warm to cool regions. Those winds lift more dust, which absorbs sunlight and warms the atmosphere, generating still stronger winds, which lift even more dust.

    The storms come in a range of sizes: Local storms can cover an area about the size of Alaska and last up to three Martian days (each of which lasts about 24.5 hours); global storms can engulf the planet for months. The storm that defeated Opportunity raged from the end of May through late July. Such global storms probably result when several smaller storms merge.
    Global dust storms have affected Mars exploration since the arrival of the first long-term robotic visitor in 1971, when NASA’s Mariner 9 orbiter found the planet’s surface entirely obscured. Opportunity and its twin rover, Spirit, both survived a global dust storm in 2007, yet a large regional dust storm ended the Phoenix lander’s mission in 2008.
    There has never been a Mars mission that didn’t worry about dust.
    A farmer’s almanac
    Luckily, Mariner 9 was an orbiter, with no plans to land. It just had to wait for the skies to clear to start snapping pictures of the Martian surface. But the same 1971 storm is probably to blame for vanquishing two Soviet landers that arrived at almost the same time.
    Spacecraft that must land to do their work can’t just wait for better timing. Launch windows for missions between Earth and Mars open only every 26 months or so. Engineers who design landing systems need to know what conditions a spacecraft will face when it gets there, says Allen Chen of the Jet Propulsion Lab, who leads the entry, descent and landing for Perseverance.
    The most important factor is the density of the atmosphere. Even though Mars’ atmosphere exerts just 1 percent of the pressure of Earth’s on the planet’s surface, both the thin Martian air and the wind blowing through it slow down the spacecraft and affect where it lands, Chen says.
    Perseverance will take pictures of the ground while parachuting through the atmosphere and match the images to an onboard map made with images from NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter. Based on those details, an in-flight navigation system will steer the rover to a safe landing spot, helping the rover touch down within an area 25 kilometers wide — the most precise Mars landing ever.
    “But that’s dependent on being able to see the ground,” Chen says, without dust obscuring the view.
    To land a rover, engineers like Chen rely on forecasts that use the past to tell the future — ​similar to weather forecasts on Earth, but with less data. Atmospheric scientist Bruce Cantor of Malin Space Science Systems in San Diego, a self-described Mars weatherman, put out a Mars weather report every week until September 2019. His forecasts are based on statistics and historical data, mostly taken from orbit. “It’s almost like a farmer’s almanac in my head,” he says.
    Cantor’s forecasts for Mars landings since 1999 have been “pretty accurate,” he says, and he boasts that he predicted the storm that ended the Phoenix mission to within three days. More accuracy wouldn’t have saved Phoenix, he says. The lander’s batteries were already low from low winter sunlight levels and the buildup of dust on the solar panels. “It was just a matter of what storm was going to be the mission-ending one,” he says.
    He foresees clear skies for Perseverance’s touchdown in February 2021. Based on the season and weather patterns in the past, the probability of a dust storm hitting within 1,000 kilometers of the center of Perseverance’s landing area is less than 2 percent, Cantor and colleagues reported in the journal Icarus in March 2019.
    But just in case, Chen’s team trained the navigation system to “deal with it being pretty darn dusty,” Chen says.
    A constellation of weather stations
    As Mars missions get more complex, and especially as NASA and other groups contemplate sending human explorers, being able to prepare for dust storms takes on extra urgency.
    “Someday, somebody is going to go to Mars, and they’re going to want to know when and where storms occur,” Cantor says. “That’s when this stuff becomes really important.”
    Cantor would know. Well over a decade ago, while testing a different rover system in Southern California, he jumped into a 2-meter-tall dust devil just to see what it would feel like. “Not one of my smartest moves,” he says. He wasn’t injured, but “it did not feel good. It felt like getting sandblasted.”
    Martian astronauts would be protected by more than shorts and a T-shirt, but dust could easily invade human habitats and clog air filters — or damage astronauts’ lungs if they breathe it in. The dust may even carry poisonous and carcinogenic materials that could make astronauts ill over the course of a mission.
    Astronauts will need to know when to stay inside. Part of the problem in predicting storms is a sheer lack of data. For Earth’s weather, meteorologists use thousands of ground-based weather stations, plus data from satellites, balloons and airplanes. Mars has only six active satellites, run by NASA and the European and Indian space agencies. And just two sets of weather instruments report from Mars’ surface: one on the Curiosity rover, which has been collecting data since 2012 (SN: 5/2/15, p. 24), and a nearly identical set that arrived with the InSight lander in 2018.

    But those two spacecraft are practically neighbors, a big weakness for understanding the whole planet. “It’d be like having one of your weather stations in D.C. and the other in Buffalo,” Guzewich says.
    Perseverance will help fill in the gaps. So might China’s first Mars rover, Tianwen-1, set to launch in July with an instrument to measure air temperature, pressure and wind. The Russian and European ExoMars mission, scheduled to launch in 2022, includes a lander called Kazachok equipped with meteorology and dust sensors (SN Online: 3/12/20).
    From the air, the UAE’s Emirates Mars Mission, known as Hope, will observe weather, including storms, and how the atmosphere interacts with the ground. Over one Martian year in orbit, Hope will help build a global picture of how the atmosphere changes day to day and between the seasons.
    Just having a few more weather stations will be a big boost, says José A. Rodríguez Manfredi of the Center for Astrobiology in Madrid, principal investigator for MEDA, the weather sensors on Perseverance. “We will have a mini network working on Mars in a few years.”
    But four or five weather stations on the ground probably won’t be enough. To reliably predict dust storms, what Mars scientists need is a global network collecting data all the time.
    To cut down on the cost of such a network, Guzewich suggests figuring out which measurements “would give us the most bang for our buck.” For Earth, NASA and other agencies use a type of study called an Observing System Simulation Experiment to figure out which variables are most important for predicting the weather. Satellites are then designed to focus on those most valuable observations. Such a study has never been done for Mars, but the only obstacle is funding, Guzewich says.
    “Mars atmospheric scientists have been clamoring” for such experiments, he says. “We’re not going to reproduce Earth’s observing network before humans go to Mars. It’s not going to happen…. But maybe we could do something that is financially and technologically reasonable that really does make a difference and gets us to the point where we can predict the future a couple days in advance.”
    China’s space agency plans to launch its first Mars mission, called Tianwen-1, in July. Its rover (illustrated atop the lander) will measure air temperature, pressure and wind, among other things.Xinhua
    Blowing in the wind
    Mars forecasts also suffer from a lack of fundamental information, Martínez says. How hard does the wind have to blow to lift the dust? And what does the dust do once it’s airborne?
    This is where Perseverance will shine. The rover will make the best direct measurements yet of wind speed and direction on Mars, especially the vertical wind that lifts dust upward.
    For a long time, scientists struggled to understand how dust was lifted into the air at all. “It seemed like it couldn’t be possible,” Guzewich says. “The atmosphere is so thin, a single particle of dust or sand is so heavy, it just shouldn’t work.” Observations and experiments over the last 20 years suggest that once sand grains start bouncing along the surface, they can knock into other grains and knock smaller particles upward. But it’s still not possible to tell which of those bouncing grains will lead to a storm — or which of those storms will go global.
    Mars climatologists have tried to make detailed wind measurements for decades, Martínez says, but have hit several stretches of bad luck. Only five surface missions — the Viking 1 and 2 landers in 1976, the Pathfinder lander in 1997 and the ongoing Curiosity and InSight missions — have provided useful data on wind speed and direction near the surface. And even those have had mixed results.
    NASA’s InSight lander, shown here in a mosaic of selfies the spacecraft took, carries a set of weather sensors called TWINS, or Temperature and Wind for InSight. The lander is one of just two weather stations on the Martian surface. Mars atmospheric scientists say they need more to predict dangerous dust storms.JPL-Caltech/NASA
    “Arguably, the best wind record on Mars is still the one from the Vikings, 40 years ago,” Martínez says. Curiosity was supposed to take direct wind measurements in all directions with a pair of electrically heated booms that jutted away from the rover’s neck. “We had great expectations,” Martínez says.
    But photos the rover took of itself showed that one boom was damaged as the rover landed, and out of commission. For the first 1,490 Martian days of Curiosity’s mission, the rover could take measurements only when the wind was blowing head on. Then, in October 2016, the second boom broke. In April, researchers suggested a way to hack Curiosity’s temperature sensors to get wind data, but there’s no plan to use that hack at the moment, Guzewich says.
    That leaves InSight, but its wind readings are muddled by other parts of the lander getting in the way of airflow. The readings are still useful, but the MEDA team hopes to do better.
    Taking lessons from InSight and Curiosity, Perseverance’s MEDA will have more wind sensors that reach farther from the rover’s body. The sensors will be protected by a shield until after the rover has landed safely.
    “We are very excited,” Martínez says. “The vertical wind has never been measured before on Mars. We’re going to do that.”
    Measuring wind speeds will help scientists determine how hard the wind must blow to kick up dust, the first step in triggering a dust storm.
    That figure has personal resonance for Bean, the former Opportunity rover operator. Her first shift was exactly two weeks before the mission-ending global dust storm. She told the rover to use its arm to brush the surface of a rock.
    “My coworkers blamed me for starting a whole butterfly effect,” she says. “You brushed the surface,” they joked, “the dust went up, you started the whole dust storm.”
    In its end-of-mission report, the Opportunity team admits it will never really know what ended Opportunity’s nearly 15-year run. One possibility is that the dust grew too thick on the solar panels for gentle wind in the calm season to blow the dust off.
    One potential fix would be to design future rovers to vibrate their solar panels fast enough to make dust skitter off, Bean says. Once humans are on the planet, they could just clear dust with their arms.
    A week or so before Opportunity was officially declared lost, Bean decided to memorialize the rover. “I’d always liked tattoos, but nothing ever spoke to me,” she says. In college, she had studied Mars’ atmospheric opacity — the amount of light that can penetrate an atmosphere’s dust, represented by the Greek letter τ. So Bean got a tattoo on her arm of the last measurement Opportunity sent to Earth: “τ=10.8.” That stands for a night-dark sky in the middle of the day.

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    Some exoplanets may be covered in weird water that’s between liquid and gas

    Small worlds around other stars may come in more than two varieties. Using exoplanet densities, astronomers have largely sorted planets that are bigger than Earth but smaller than Neptune into two categories: denser, rocky super-Earths and larger, puffy mini-Neptunes (SN: 6/19/17). Mini-Neptunes are generally thought to be padded in thick layers of hydrogen and helium […] More