Aliens Among Us

The stuff of biology exists throughout the universe. Sometimes it hitches a ride on meteors, and it could be seeding life everywhere

AN ASTEROID headed for Earth, such as this one, might just contain some spark of life, in the form of amino acids, nucleobases, sugars or other organic matter.

THE FIREBALL BEARING DOWN ON THE LITTLE town of Tata, in southwestern Morocco, in July 2011 was like nothing the locals had ever seen. There was one sonic boom, then another, as a yellow slash of fire cut across the sky. The yellow turned to a landscape-illuminating green, the fireball split in two, and a hail of smoldering rocks crashed to the ground across the surrounding valley. With that, our planet’s latest invasion from Mars was over.

Scientists quickly pounced on the incoming ordnance, dubbed the Tissint meteorite after the type of rock from which it was formed. They wanted to know its chemistry and mineralogy—which proved it came from Mars—and they wanted to know one more important thing: whether it was carrying passengers. It’s a question space scientists havebegun asking a lot.

Life, as far as we can prove, exists only on Earth. There is our modest planet circling our modest star, and then there is the unimaginable hugeness beyond. But in that whole great cosmic sweep, we’re the only little koi pond in which anything is stirring. As far as we can tell, at least.

YET THE COSMOS is awash in the stuff of biology. Water molecules drift everywhere in interstellar space. Hydrogen, carbon, methane, amino acids—the entire organic-chemistry set—swirl through star systems and are taken up by planets and moons. In 2009, NASA’s Stardust mission found the amino acid glycine in comet Wild 2. In 2003, radio telescopes spotted glycine in regions of star formation within the Milky Way. And meteors that landed on Earth have been found to contain amino acids, nucleobases (which help form DNA and RNA) and even sugars.

That raises a tantalizing question: If the building blocks of life can rain down anywhere, why not life itself—at least in the form of bacteria? Such an improbable idea, known as panspermia, has been chattered about by scientists since the 19th century. But back then, there wasn’t much knowledge of what the cosmic ingredients of life were or how to detect them even if they could be identified.

That’s all changed. A welter of new studies in the past few years have shed light on the panspermia idea—and in the process have changed our very sense of our place in the cosmos. Never mind that stale image of life on Earth existing in a sort of terrestrial bell jar, sealed off from the rest of the universe. Our planet—indeed all planets—may be more like a great meadow, open to whatever spores or seedlings blow by.

“I think there’s definitely a role meteorites have to play in at least getting prebiological materials to planets,” says Chris Herd, a meteorite expert at the University of Alberta, who has studied the Tissint rocks. “A lot has to go right for an actual microorganism to go from planet to planet. But in some cases, they just might survive the trip.” If they made that trip to our ancient Earth, we may not merely have encountered aliens; we may be the aliens.

The search for life in rocks from space has met some bumps along the way. On Aug. 6, 1996, NASA stunned the world by announcing that a meteorite from Mars, prosaically known as ALH84001, contained evidence of what appeared to be fossilized bacteria.

LIFE ON MARS, the headlines screamed, and that was exactly the conclusion the researchers had tentatively reached. “It’s an unbelievable day,” said then NASA administrator Daniel Goldin. “It took my breath away.”

Breathtaking, yes. If only it weren’t a false alarm. Further study of 84001 failed to rule out inorganic processes for the seemingly biological clues it contained, and while the rock continues to spark debate, no one disputes that the evidence was not the slam dunk it originally seemed to be.

In the years since, similar research has proceeded apace, even if the press releases have been decidedly more measured, and the case for panspermia is being convincingly rebuilt. In 2012, Herd and his colleagues published a paper in the journal Science showing not just how biological material could get to Earth but also how it could survive a long trip in space.

The study focused on what’s known as the Tagish meteorite, for the frozen lake in British Columbia on which it smashed itself to fragments on Jan. 18, 2000. Within days of the impact, scientists collected the debris—making no direct hand contact with it in order to minimize biological contamination—and quickly transported it to cold storage. When Herd and his colleagues got hold of four of the fragments and cracked them open, they found that the debris very much warranted such caretaking.

TAGISH, THE METEORITE named after the frozen lake in British Columbia on which it landed, was found to be rich in intriguing organic molecules.

Distributed throughout the rock were more than just the organics that had been seen before; there were also others in different stages of sophistication, simpler molecules giving way to complex ones and more complex ones still—a bit like finding caterpillars, cocoons and butterflies all in the same little nest. The rock, it seemed, had been acting as a sort of free-floating incubator, with traces of water trapped in its matrix combining with heat from radioactive elements to keep things warm and effectively pulsing.

“These asteroids form in space, you dump in organic molecules, a little water ice and a little heat, and then they just start to stew,” says Herd. That slow cooking went on for millions of years in the Tagish rocks until the supplies of heat and water were exhausted and the process shut down.

TEXUS 49, a sounding rocket, launches from the Esrange Space Center in Kiruna, Sweden.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that similar rocks landing on Earth billions of years ago were the start of all terrestrial life—or even that they contributed to biological processes already under way. Yet the organics in the Tagish meteorite have a curiously familiar feature. Amino acids come in one of two varieties: left-handed and right-handed, defined by an asymmetrical structure that points either one way or the other. All earthly life uses the left-handed kind—a puzzling fact given that right-handed amino acids should work just as well—and the Tagish amino acids are left-handed too. How did that southpaw bias get started on Earth? Herd’s findings suggest that the influence could have come from beyond.

It’s easy enough to imagine how a meteor that accreted in space and then spent its life flying through the vastness could eventually find its way into the gravity field of a planet if it came too close. Harder to figure is what it takes to get biologically contaminated material from the surface of one planet to another. Something, after all, has to launch the stuff in the first place. Typically that something is a meteor strike, which hurls debris into space, where it slowly drifts from one world to the next. Earth and Mars have exchanged material this way for billions of years, though more in the early days of the solar system, when the cosmic bombardment was greater.

The kind of life that can get started on the warm, wet surface of a planet, contaminate its rocks and hitch a ride to the world next door is a lot more complex than the mere prebiology that can get cooked up in space. The problem is, most of those organisms—probably the single-celled kind like those the ALH84001 scientists thought they had found—can’t live through the shock heating that occurs when debris is blasted into space. Ones nestled deep within rock, though, might.

IN 2014, CORA THIEL, A professor of anatomy at the University of Zurich, showed that even some surface biology at least could have a shot. She and her colleagues painted areas of a sounding rocket with a solution mixed with DNA that coded for antibiotic resistance and fluorescence. The rocket was launched from Sweden to a suborbital altitude of 168 miles and remained aloft for 13 minutes, with heat from atmospheric friction peaking at more than 1,800°F. After the rocket’s return, at least some of the solution on its skin was found to have survived—including 53% of it that was embedded in screwheads. And when all of that DNA was cultured in the lab, 35% of it proved viable.

Remaining alive for the hundreds of thousands or millions of years it would take to travel from world to world would be another matter entirely for organisms, but it should not be impossible. Earthly bacteria that live in extreme environments go dormant or even freeze-dry until conditions improve and they stir to life again.

In June 2012, investigators from the University of Colorado–Boulder studied bacteria found in the Atacama region of South America, where rain almost never falls and temperatures go from 13° at night to 133° the next day. Microbes nonetheless thrive there, sucking energy from traces of carbon monoxide in the air and extracting moisture from exceedingly rare snowfalls. The rest of the time they hibernate. There’s no apparent reason an adaptation that nifty should be confined to Earthly life.

Whatever biology is flitting about out there would not even have to be limited to traveling from planet to planet; it could also hop from one star system to another. Such a scenario was long considered scientific fantasy. Not only would the transit times between planetary systems be prohibitively long for even the hardiest bacteria—on the order of 1.5 billion years—but the speed a space rock needs to travel to escape the gravity of its home stellar system should be too great to allow the rock to be captured by another. In September 2012, however, a team of researchers from Princeton University, the University of Arizona and the Centro de Astrobiología in Spain figured out a neat solution that sidestepped these problems.

Most panspermia models assumed that the only way a rock could escape a stellar system was if it passed close to a large body like Jupiter and was gravitationally ejected at a speed of about 18,000 mph. But the investigators used a computer to model a slow-boat escape, known as weak transfer, in which a rock gradually drifts out through a planetary system until it is so far from its parent sun that the slightest flutter in its trajectory could tip it into interstellar space. “At this point,” says Princeton astrophysicist Edward Belbruno, one of the co-authors, “mere randomness determines whether it gets out or not.”

And don’t worry about those extreme distances to other stars in the neighborhood. About 4.5 billion years ago, the infant sun was part of a tight grouping of nascent stars known as the local cluster. The herd dispersed after less than 300 million years, but a weak-transfer rock that escaped within that window could have reached the next star in about a million years. “Trillions of rocks could escape,” says Belbruno. “Over the course of 300 million years, about 3 billion might have struck Earth.”

It’s impossible to know if even one of those 3 billion would have harbored biological material, especially so early in the history of the local stars. But if the new studies say anything, it’s that it’s equally impossible to continue to see the Earth and its organisms as somehow separate from the rest of the cosmos. The universe, it seems, does not just produce the basic materials for biology; it is steeped in them.

Precious Cargo

New computer simulations show how prebiotic material or microbial life could have originated in a distant solar system, then hitched a ride to Earth.

1 Meteor collisions expel rock containing organic material from a planet’s surface

2 After escaping the planet’s gravitational pull, the rock drifts through its solar system

3 Once at the edge of the solar system, the rock requires only a flutter in its trajectory to enter deep space

4 Trace water and radioactive heat within the rock incubate its cargo during the long journey

5 The star cluster in which our sun was born was once tightly grouped, reducing the rock’s transit time as it is pulled into our solar system

6 The rock and its cargo, attracted by Earth’s gravity, plummet through the atmosphere. If the organic material survives the plunge, it finds a very hospitable new home