High Energy astro-ph.HE

In the stream of cosmic rays, particles flying toward us from the depths of the Galaxy, titanium is rare. Its nuclei are almost indistinguishable from iron: both are heavy, and both leave similar tracks in detectors.

High above the Antarctic ice sheet, a balloon with a detector floated for twenty days. It caught tiny particles that had been traveling toward us for millions of years from distant stellar explosions. Now scientists have sorted through the catch and reported how much energy the protons and nuclei of different elements carried.

High above Antarctica, a balloon carried an instrument that caught electrons from space. These particles come from distant stellar explosions and other powerful events. The instrument measured their energy, like the force of an impact. And in one energy range, there were more impacts than calculations predicted.

In the quiet harbor of the Local Bubble, a rarefied cavity of hot gas around the Sun, an explosion recently thundered. A supernova went off tens of parsecs away, and its echo still lingers in the neighborhood, reshaping the cosmic-ray landscape.

The ATIC balloon rose over Antarctica and caught particles older than Earth itself. Among them are atomic nuclei from sulfur to chromium, and the higher their energy, the larger their fraction compared to iron. The standard 'leaky box' model predicted the opposite: heavy nuclei should dissolve like salt in water. But the data stubbornly rose.

In the stream of charged particles flying toward us from the depths of the Galaxy, iron turned out to be the odd one out. The ATIC-2 instrument, lifted on a balloon over Antarctica, compared how the fraction of nuclei from sulfur to chromium relative to iron changes with energy.

The cosmic electron spectrum is like fingerprints at a crime scene. Particles arriving from the depths of the Galaxy carry in their energies the traces of those that produced them. For a long time, the picture was blurred: instruments with wide energy bins, like out-of-focus photographs, did not reveal details.

High above Earth, a satellite flies, and inside it is an instrument the size of a small wardrobe. It catches particles that have been racing through the galaxy for billions of years and finally slam into the detector. Such particles are called cosmic rays, and they bring news of distant stellar explosions.

Like long-distance runners, atomic nuclei, from light helium to heavy iron, race toward us across the Galaxy. At the finish line, in a detector on a high-altitude balloon, we see that heavy nuclei arrive a bit more exhausted than light ones. The difference is small, but it repeats from flight to flight.

Cosmic rays are charged particles that fly to us from the depths of the Galaxy. If you plot how many particles arrive at each energy, the line runs smooth, then suddenly drops sharply.

At night over the Siberian taiga, a faint blue light sometimes flickers. It's not the aurora borealis but a cosmic-ray shower: a single particle from deep space slams into the atmosphere and shatters into millions of secondary particles. They race toward the ground in a broad front, like a ripple from a stone dropped into water, and make the air glow.

Cosmic rays are atomic nuclei accelerated to near-light speeds. They arrive at Earth from all directions, and their composition tells us what's happening in the far reaches of the Galaxy.

Every second, dozens of particles from space fly through each of us. Most are light protons, but there are also heavier atomic nuclei: carbon, oxygen, iron. They are born in stellar explosions and travel to Earth for millions of years. Their energy can be staggering: a single particle can carry as much as a tennis ball on a serve.

North of the microquasar SS 433, an arc has emerged in the soft X-ray band. Faint and diffuse, yet stubbornly tracing contours already familiar from radio observations. Astronomers studied its spectrum and saw gas heated to eleven million kelvin. Gas that could not have been heated by the jets or the accretion disk wind.

A firefly blinks for one ten-billionth of a second somewhere above the Siberian taiga. Seeing such a thing is impossible, but the TAIGA-HiSCORE array, spread across a valley in the Tunkinsky district of Buryatia, tried to catch exactly such flashes — not from insects, but from the depths of space.

At a distance of 8.58 megaparsecs, the spiral galaxy M51 spins its arms, while the VLA radio telescope in its most extended configuration observes it with a resolution of 0.16×0.14 arcseconds. That is like spotting a coin on the surface of the Moon from Earth.

The night of March 4, 2024. The MeerKAT radio telescope in South Africa catches a millisecond pulse: a fast radio burst coming from a depth of 17.4 gigaparsecs. This is light that traveled 10.5 billion years to reach Earth.

At the center of the supernova remnant SN 1987A, 168,000 light-years from Earth, hides an object that astronomers have been seeking for 37 years. This is the closest supernova to have exploded in front of modern telescopes, and the only one where the compact remnant has yet to be seen directly.

A radio telescope catches a signal lasting a few milliseconds, and in that instant, energy comparable to what the Sun emits over days is released. This is a fast radio burst, a millisecond radio pulse from a distant galaxy. Since their discovery in 2007, astrophysicists have debated what causes them.

In 2017, the LIGO and Virgo detectors caught gravitational waves from the merger of two neutron stars. A kilonova flared: a brilliant cosmic explosion thought to forge the heaviest elements in the periodic table. Gold in jewelry, platinum in catalysts, europium in smartphone screens: all of it, according to a beautiful legend, came to us from such catastrophes.

On October 9, 2022, the cosmos put on a show unlike anything astronomers had seen in the history of observations. Gamma-ray burst GRB 221009A, the most powerful cosmic explosion that produces a flash of gamma radiation, blinded detectors in orbit and on Earth.

In April 2023, the LIGO, Virgo, and KAGRA detectors caught a gravitational wave from the merger of two black holes. With masses of 137 and 103 solar masses, GW231123 became the most massive event ever observed.

In laboratories on Earth, Bose-Einstein condensates are created by cooling a cloud of atoms to billionths of a kelvin. The atoms lose their individuality and merge into a single quantum wave that behaves as one entity. But in space, such conditions are not needed: gravity itself creates deep wells where matter compresses and cools into a state of quantum fog.

On November 23, 2023, the LIGO, Virgo, and KAGRA detectors caught a gravitational wave from the merger of two black holes with masses of 137 and 103 solar masses. Both fall into the pair-instability mass gap, the range from 69 to 139 solar masses where ordinary stellar evolution leaves behind nothing but expanding gas.

The Event Horizon Telescope looks at M87* and sees more than just a ring of light around a dark void. That light is twisted, like a corkscrew. The wavefront carries a helical structure that physicists call orbital angular momentum.

A magnetar's crust cracks in milliseconds. A deep shift generates seismic waves that run across the surface and shake the magnetic field. This starquake is like an earthquake, but on a neutron star with a field a quadrillion times stronger than Earth's.

In general relativity, a black hole has long been regarded as a perfect mirror: no matter what fields fall onto it, it does not deform. The tidal Love numbers, which measure how a body deforms under an external tidal field, turned out to be zero for scalar, electromagnetic, and gravitational perturbations.

A wind blowing against the planet's rotation stokes a carbon forge. That is what the atmosphere of PSR J2322-2650b looks like: a Jupiter-like companion to a millisecond pulsar.

In a courtroom, there isn't always a video recording of the crime. Sometimes the verdict is based on witness testimony: what happened before, what happened after. That's exactly how physicists treated the signal GW250114, detected on January 14, 2025.

Two black holes circle in a tight dance, and around them something remarkable is born: a gravitational molecule. A cloud of ultralight bosons, particles with masses below an electronvolt, envelops the pair like the electron cloud in an H2+ ion.

About 25,000 light-years from Earth, in the constellation Sagittarius, a dense veil wraps around the neutron star GX 13+1. It scatters X-ray photons the way fog scatters streetlight, and for a long time it hid the source's true power from astronomers.

On October 9, 2022, detectors on Earth recorded a gamma-ray burst of unprecedented power. GRB 221009A was so bright that its radiation ionized the upper layers of the ionosphere, and satellite instruments were temporarily blinded.

In 1181, Chinese and Japanese astronomers recorded the appearance of a 'guest star', a bright object that shone for six months in the constellation Cassiopeia and then vanished. Today, that spot hosts Pa 30: a nebula with a hot central source ejecting material at 16,000 km/s.

Gamma-ray burst 230307A lit up the sky like a thunderclap: in seconds, it released more energy than the Sun will emit over billions of years. Three detectors—GECAM-B, GECAM-C, and Fermi/GBM—were looking in the right direction at that moment.

At the core of the distant galaxy SDSS J1335+0728, 2.5 billion light-years from Earth, a supermassive black hole beats out a rhythm. Every few days it flares in X-rays like a cosmic metronome, but in 2025 that metronome suddenly shifted from allegro to andante.

In 2017, the LIGO and Virgo gravitational detectors caught ripples in spacetime from the merger of two black holes 540 megaparsecs away. The event was named GW170814. But what remained after this cosmic collision? Besides distorted space, tiny black holes, or 'crumbs', might have been born.

The collision of two neutron stars is a strike heard across the universe. Gravitational wave detectors pick up the ripples in spacetime, but the most interesting sound begins after the impact: the merger remnant, a rapidly spinning hypermassive neutron star, continues to vibrate, emitting waves for a few more…

In 1936, two physicists, Werner Heisenberg and Hans Euler, poring over the equations of quantum electrodynamics, found something strange. In a sufficiently strong magnetic field, vacuum should cease to be empty.

A black hole is not just the universe's trash can; it is more like a safe with a secret code. For decades, it was thought that any signal sent toward the event horizon would be partially reflected back: curved spacetime acts like a funhouse mirror, and some energy always escapes.

For seven hours straight, a space gamma-ray telescope registered flares that refused to end. That is how the story of GRB 250702B began: the longest gamma-ray burst ever observed. Typical bursts last seconds, rarely minutes. This one stretched to 25,000 seconds, beating the previous record by a factor of two.