The first task confronting Captain Laplace and his crew, once they had grown accustomed to being on
terra firma, was to re-orient themselves. Everything on Galaxy was the wrong way round.
Spaceships are designed for two modes of operation - either no gravity at all, or, when the engines are
thrusting, an up-and-down direction along the axis. But now Galaxy was lying almost horizontally, and all
the floors had become walls. It was exactly as if they were trying to live in a lighthouse that had toppled
on to its side; every single piece of furniture had to be moved, and at least fifty per cent of the equipment
was not functioning properly.
Yet in some ways this was a blessing in disguise, and Captain Laplace made the most of it. The crew
was so busy rearranging Galaxy's interior - giving priority to the plumbing - that he had few worries about
morale. As long as the hull remained airtight, and the muon generators continued to supply power, they
were in no immediate danger; they merely had to survive for twenty days, and salvation would come
from the skies in the shape of Universe. No-one ever mentioned the possibility that the unknown powers
that ruled Europa might object to a second landing. They had - as far as anyone knew - ignored the first;
surely they could not interfere with a mission of mercy...
Europa itself, however, was now less cooperative. While Galaxy had been adrift on the open sea, it had
been virtually unaffected by the quakes which continually racked the little world. But now that the ship
had become an all too permanent land structure, it was shaken every few hours by seismic disturbances.
Had it touched down in the normal vertical position, by now it would certainly have been overturned.
The quakes were unpleasant rather than dangerous, but they gave nightmares to anyone who had
experienced Tokyo '33 or Los Angeles '45. It did not help much to know that they followed a completely
predictable pattern, rising to a peak of violence and frequency every three and a half days when Io came
swinging past on its inner orbit. Nor was it much consolation to know that Europa's own gravitational tides were inflicting at
least equal damage on Io.
After six days of gruelling work, Captain Laplace was satisfied that Galaxy was as near shipshape as
was possible in the circumstances. He declared a holiday - which most of the crew spent sleeping - and
then drew up a schedule for their second week on the satellite.
The scientists, of course, wanted to explore the new world they had so unexpectedly entered.
According to the radar maps that Ganymede had transmitted to them, the island was fifteen kilometres
long and five wide; its maximum elevation was only a hundred metres - not high enough, someone had
gloomily predicted, to avoid a really bad tsunami.
It was hard to imagine a more dismal and forbidding place; half a century of exposure to Europa's
feeble winds and rains had done nothing to break up the pillow lava which covered half its surface, or to
soften the outcropping of granite that protruded through the rivers of frozen rock. But it was their home
now, and they had to find a name for it.
Gloomy, downbeat suggestions like Hades, Inferno, Hell, Purgatory... were firmly vetoed by the
Captain; he wanted something cheerful. One surprising and quixotic tribute to a brave enemy was
seriously considered before being rejected thirty-two to ten, with five abstentions: the island would not be
called 'Roseland'..
In the end, 'Haven' won unanimously.
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