hydrogen envelope

Water comes in different varieties. Not just fresh or salty, but also "heavy"—when one of its hydrogen atoms is replaced by deuterium, its heavier cousin. Such water is called HDO, and it's a true cosmic passport: the amount of deuterium in water reveals where and when that water was born.

In 2024, the team led by David Charbonneau pointed the Magellan telescope with the WINERED spectrograph at LHS 1140. During transit, high-resolution spectroscopy caught the absorption line of metastable helium at 10833 Å.

A world where a year lasts just one and a half Earth days, and the star in its sky is hundreds of times larger than our Sun. This is KELT-9 b — a gas giant heated to temperatures at which iron vaporizes. Its atmosphere is not just hot; it is literally boiling away into space, like steam rising from a giant cauldron.

When astronomers peer at distant worlds, they often don't see crisp lines of water vapor or methane, but a blurry silhouette, as if the planet has thrown on a thick veil. This veil, a haze of organic particles, behaves like a temperamental photographic plate: it darkens under harsh ultraviolet light, revealing hidden chemical patterns.

When a planet slips behind the edge of its star, the star backlights the planet's atmosphere, just as a setting sun illuminates clouds on the horizon. This brief moment, lasting only minutes, carries the imprint of the gases through which the starlight has passed.

A planet hugging its star is like an ice cube forgotten on a scorching skillet. The ice melts and evaporates, except instead of water, it's hydrogen and helium from the planet's upper layers.

The night sky is dotted with stars, and many of them have planets. But how do you spot a tiny dark disk against the glare of a distant sun? The Kepler telescope spent nine years watching hundreds of thousands of stars, waiting for a planet to pass in front of its star and briefly dim it. That 'wink' is the only way to find worlds like ours.

Two water droplets tremble in sync — because they're connected by a straw. So it is with entangled particles: their unity may be held together by a microscopic wormhole.

Planet WASP-121b orbits so near its star that the fierce heat boils its atmosphere away, streaming like a comet's tails. With the James Webb Space Telescope, astronomers continuously watched this process for the first time.

Many planets around other stars — exoplanets — have elongated orbits. With each close approach, the star’s gravity squeezes and stretches them, like kneading dough. Friction heats up the interior to the point where rock melts, creating underground oceans of magma.

The super-hot super-Earth TOI-561 b completes an orbit around its star in just 10.7 hours. It is a scorched rocky sphere, so close to its star that its dayside should heat up to 2950 K, a temperature at which many minerals melt.

A young sub-Neptune is a pressure cooker where hydrogen and rock simmer in the same pot. Six Earth masses, three percent hydrogen by mass, and interior temperatures above 4000 K. At that heat, silicate melt and hydrogen don't just coexist: they mix completely, forming a single supercritical fluid. There is no boundary between core and envelope.