Space News & Blog Articles

The Sun is trying to tell us something. In the first four days of February this year, it unleashed six powerful X-class solar flares in rapid succession including one classified X8.1, the strongest in several years. For most of us, that meant some disrupted radio signals, some spectacular aurora displays, and a reminder that our nearest star is not the steady, reliable lamp we sometimes take for granted. For solar physicists, it was confirmation that we are deep inside one of the most dangerous periods the Sun has produced in a generation.

It is one of the most famous questions in science, and it was asked, as legend has it, over lunch. Enrico Fermi, the physicist who helped build the first nuclear reactor and whose name graces a unit of length so small it makes an atom look generous, was chatting with colleagues about the possibility of alien life when he suddenly asked ‘where is everybody?’

When the Apollo astronauts returned from the Moon, they brought back something more valuable than any treasure, 382 kilograms of Moon rock that would keep scientists busy for generations. For decades those samples have been scrutinised, measured, and debated and, for decades one question has refused to be satisfactorily answered… Did the Moon once have a powerful magnetic field or was it always magnetically feeble?

Through the Artemis Program, NASA hopes to establish a permanent human presence on the Moon in its southern polar region. China, Russia, and the European Space Agency (ESA) have similar plans, all of which involve building bases near the permanently shadowed regions (PSRs) - i.e., craters that contain water ice - that dot the South Pole-Aitken Basin. For these and other agencies, it is vital that these bases be as self-sufficient as possible since resupply missions cannot be launched regularly and take several days to arrive.

You could fit about a dozen of them across the full stop at the end of this sentence. Under a microscope they look like tiny eight legged bears shuffling around in slow motion. They have been frozen, boiled, irradiated, sent into the vacuum of open space and brought back alive. Scientists have been studying them for over two hundred years and they still have the capacity to astonish. Their name is tardigrade, though most people know them by the rather more charming nickname of water bears. And right now, they might be one of our best tools for figuring out how to survive on Mars.

Something arrived in our Solar System last summer that had been travelling for longer than the Earth has existed. It came from somewhere out there in the dark between the stars, possibly from a planetary system that formed billions of years before our own Sun even ignited. We don't know exactly where it came from. We may never know. But for a brief, extraordinary window of time, this ancient wanderer passed close enough to study, and the world's astronomers dropped almost everything to watch.

In the summer of 2023, something happened that engineers had talked about for decades but few genuinely expected to see in their lifetimes. SpaceX's Starship, a stainless steel tower taller than a thirty storey building lit its thirty three engines simultaneously and lifted off from the Texas coast. It did not go entirely to plan. But it went. And when the Super Heavy booster returned in flight test five to be caught, mid air, by the enormous mechanical arms of its own launch tower, it was clear that the rules of spaceflight had fundamentally changed.