Habitable Galaxies - Part 2: Active galaxies

This is part two in a series of posts about habitable galaxies. Post 1, covering types of galaxies and galaxy mergers, is here and this earlier post on the (most) habitable areas of our own galaxy is also relevant.

A major attribute of galaxies is whether or not they are active. There are a few different things active can mean—actively star-forming, for example—but what I want to focus on today is whether they have active nuclei.

What's in a nucleus?

At the centre of our galaxy and most other large galaxies, there is supermassive black hole. I have briefly mentioned black holes in the past and I will eventually get around to writing a dedicated post on them. Honest. What you need to know to understand their role in galactic nuclei is as follows:

• They are very small and very dense.
• The supermassive part means that they range from around a hundred thousand times to the mass of the sun to billions of solar masses. The Milky Way's central black hole was calculated in 2008 (by this group) to be about 4.1 million times the mass of the sun. In kilograms that's about 8 x 10³⁶ or an 8 followed by thirty-six zeroes.
• As their name suggests, supermassive black holes are very massive. What massive really means (in any physics context, not just with regards to black holes) is that they exert a strong gravitational force.

Before you ask, we don't really know where these come from—there are theories, but no single one is yet the most accepted—but we do know that they must form early on in a galaxy's life (possibly even before the stars form, depending on which theory you subscribe to) and their evolution is closely tied with the host galaxy's.

Other things that can be found in the centres of galaxies include stars, dust and gas. Although following the orbits of stars in the centre of our own galaxy is what convinced us there was a supermassive black hole there (nothing else could be so massive and so small), most of what those stars do is simply orbit. (Yes, it is possible for one to fall into the black hole and yes, that would be very interesting and would generate a lot of energy but from what we've observed, the Milky Way's central stars seem to be in stable orbits. If you are interested in reading a (short and fairly uncomplicated) paper about S2, the star closest to our supermassive black hole, you can find it here.

When there is gas or dust in the vicinity of the black hole, it will tend to spiral inwards until it eventually passes the event horizon*. As this occurs, huge amounts of energy are released, outshining all the stars in the galaxy. This is what is called an active galactic nucleus. It is also, more or less, what causes quasars, the most distant objects we observe (because they're so bright we can see them very far away, you see).

Here is a nice NASA / ESA Hubble Space Telescope picture of jets coming off the nearby AGN, M87.

 * The point of no return.

Active life?

So the next question, the crux of this post, is can we have life in a galaxy with an AGN? The short answer is maybe. Of course, we have no concrete proof either way. Sagittarius A* (yes, that asterisk is part of the name), our central black hole, is not currently active** and we have even less evidence for life in other galaxies than we do for life on other planets within the Milky Way. The slightly longer answer is, it depends. There is evidence to suggest that the Milky Way was active in the past few million years and since there is still life on Earth, we can suppose that an AGN doesn't necessarily sterilise a galaxy.

Some months ago, some colleagues and I got into a discussion regarding whether a really bright AGN (even one unrealistically bright for the size of our galaxy and Sag A*) could wipe out life. We came to the conclusion that it would only do so if you were standing close enough to it. From memory, we estimated that if a planet somehow managed to find itself*** in an orbit a parsec from the active black hole, the black hole would through about as much light at it as the sun does. However, AGN emit much harder radiation than stars, meaning that a larger proportion of the energy would be at X-ray and gamma ray frequencies, both unfavourable to life. If we put the planet where Earth is, then even with nothing blocking the way we don't have a very high increase in dangerous radiation.

However, something is blocking the way: dust. As far as we know, dust near the black hole is requisite for turning on an AGN. But even ignoring that, there are many clumps of dust in the disc of the Milky Way. So many that we are unable to see through it all if we look along the disc. (Schlegel et al surveyed the dust in the galaxy and came up with this map. White bits have more dust, black bits have less.) In essence, as well as making it hard for us to notice supernovae near the centre of the galaxy, this would help shield us from AGN light. I wouldn't be surprised if we didn't immediately notice the AGN. Of course, closer in to the centre of the galaxy you have more problems and it starts to depend more on exact placement. Also, the dust actually only shields visible and UV light, so once you get too close the more concentrated X-rays and gamma rays become more of a problem.

On the other hand, a planet is less likely to form in the path of an AGN jet, simply because there are fewer stars in that direction. If it did, however, it would definitely not survive the experience.

Elliptical galaxies have significantly less gas in them (some might say no gas, but there would have to be some in the centre for the AGN to turn on, not to mention dust created by dying stars).  This would mean less shielding, making the AGN more noticeable. The bigger barrier to surviving the experience, however, would be the fact that elliptical galaxies are larger with with more massive central black hole which would generate a more energetic AGN (with more detrimental radiation). The final point to consider is that theories suggest AGN in elliptical galaxies are turned on thanks to dust being stirred up (into the black hole) from a merger. So the merger event could have some impact (see last week's post) on continued habitability. The dearth of dust also means that new planets would not be able to form in an elliptical galaxy.

So to summarise, an AGN wouldn't necessarily sterilise a galaxy, but might kill off life that had set up too close to the centre. Depending on an inhabited planet's placement in a galaxy, an AGN might not have a very large effect on daily life. There are a few additional problems for elliptical galaxies, but again, so long as the planet isn't too close to the centre (and its sun doesn't migrate to the centre of the galaxy too quickly), there's no reason for life to automatically be extinguished. Score 2 for extragalactic life.

Next time: the habitability of galaxies in different environments in the universe.


** Probably.
*** I personally really don't think a planet would be able to form in that region thanks to the density of stars and subsequent gravitational forces. I don't have any hard evidence to support this, but to me it makes sense.

Winds of Change ToC

And now for something completely different.

Rather than a science post, this is a quick note to tell you about the upcoming anthology from the Canberra Science Fiction Guild which includes one of my stories. The anthology is called Winds of Change and is edited by Elizabeth Fitzgerald. The table of contents is at the end of this post.

(Yes, I am a bit late with this announcement, but my excuse is I was on holiday, so shhh.)

My story, "Time Capsule" is third, which, I have decided, is a golly good place to be. And despite all my spacey writing on this blog, the story is set entirely on Earth, so make of that what you will.

Winds of Change is going to be launched at Conflux, the annual Canberran science fiction and fantasy convention, on Friday 30 September. I will post more info about getting your hands on a copy (other than if you're at Conflux, of course) when it's available.

The table of contents:

Winds of Change

Edited by Elizabeth Fitzgerald

Stories and authors:

Wraiths by Jason Nahrung

Gravity Express by Naomi Mondello

Time Capsule by Tsana Dolichva

The Tether of Time by Leife Shallcross

Trigger by Zena Shapter

Babel by Robin Shortt

Saint Olivia's Light by Carol Ryles

In Need of Assistance by Chris Andrews

After the Bombs by Adam Tucker

The Horns of Elfland by Crisetta MacLeod

Time Spent by David Coleman

Soul of the Machine by Maxine McArthur

Dream Shadow by Alan Baxter

Giant by Annelise Roberts

Evolution Baby by Lesley Boland

The Princess by Valerie Y.L. Toh

Children of the Ashes by Greg Mellor

By Watcher's Pool by James Goodrum

Turning the Blood by Donna Maree Hanson

Watching by Nicole R Murphy

The Stormchilds by Helen Stubbs

The Fool by Jane Virgo

Dragonfly by Cat Sheely

Stone-singer by Joanna Fay

Habitable Galaxies - Part 1: Galaxy types and origins

Hello blog readers, I'm back :-)

I've talked about habitable planets and habitable parts of our galaxy before. Now I am going to talk about the possible habitability of other galaxies. It's a somewhat lengthy topic so it'll be spread out over a few weeks. Today, some background.

Miscellaneous types

There are two main classes of galaxies: spiral and elliptical. (Also known as late type and early type, but those names are silly as will soon become apparent.) These are called morphological types because they relate to the physical shape of the galaxy. You can also get dwarf galaxies, which are very small—on the scale of galaxies, although they're still billions of times the mass of our sun compares with tens of trillions of suns for galaxy like ours.

Once we get past galaxy shapes there are all sorts of interesting things galaxies can be doing. For example, you can have active (or not active) galaxies, galaxies which are merging, galaxies where stars are actively being born, galaxies filled with old, dying stars, galaxies with high or low metallicities, isolated galaxies and galaxies part of giant groups or clusters. There's a lot of variety, even within each of these (not always mutually exclusive) classifications. You think the two hundred billion* or so stars in our galaxy are a lot? There are eighty billion galaxies just in the observable universe. Which ones, other than carbon copies of our own, can we live in? Let's first have a look at where galaxies come from.

* I use billion here in the American sense to denote 1 000 000 000 = 10⁹ for three reasons: 1. it's most commonly used this way in the scientific community, 2. the word "milliard" (as in the British counting convention) has fallen into disuse and 3. "thousand million" (the replacement for milliard) sounds clunky.

Galactogenesis

As Dougalas Adams said, in the beginning there was nothing, and then it exploded. After that, if we fast forward a bit (which, current theories suggest, the universe did), matter which at this stage consisting mostly of hydrogen with a little bit of helium that was fused in the primordial fires of the big bang, starts to clump together.

(At this point I feel the need to mention that I'm more or less ignoring dark matter because in this context it needlessly complicates things. But it's there too. Just so you know.)

These clouds then collapsed into discs and clumpiness within the discs led to star formation (that is, clumps of hydrogen collapsed in on themselves to make the first stars). So the first galaxies were all disc galaxies, another name (more or less) for spiral galaxies. However, not all clumpy areas are the same size, so you might get a clump of galaxy-sized clumps and then get a bunch of galaxies forming close together. Over time, gravity will pull these galaxies closer together and they will eventually merger (I'll get to mergers shortly). On the other hand, you could have an area of the universe where not much matter ended up and there was only enough stuff to make a few small galaxies.

If you look at our Local Group, there are two big spiral galaxies—ours and Andromeda—a medium-sized galaxy—the Large Magellanic Cloud—and a slew of tiny dwarf galaxies. Some of these dwarf galaxies are in the process of raining down onto the Milky Way or Andromeda. Others are further away and are falling into one of the big galaxies much more slowly. Andromeda and the Milky Way will merge on a time-scale of five or so billion years. Eventually, all the galaxies in the Local Group will merge into one giant Local Structure.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

So current theory has galaxies being born as discs. Where do the elliptical galaxies, the round or oval balls of stars, come from? The currently popular answer is through mergers.

Mergers

On a cosmic time-scale, small galaxies are constantly falling into (accreting onto) larger galaxies. Every so often two medium-sized or larger galaxies might merge. These events are called major mergers. There are two possible outcomes of major mergers between spiral galaxies:

1. A new, larger, spiral galaxy. There will often also be a period of more vigorous star formation after a major merger like this thanks to the gas and dust in the galaxies being shaken up and combined with more gas from the other galaxy. It is thought this outcome happens when there is enough spare gas in the two progenitor galaxies.
2. An elliptical galaxy. When there isn't enough spare gas in the two merging galaxies, the stars don't rearrange themselves in a nice flat pattern (exactly why is unclear, I think) and we're left with a roundish blob of stars.

There is no question that minor mergers—small galaxies accreting onto larger ones—don't pose much of a threat for life. After all, small galaxies have been accreting onto the Milky Way far longer than we've been around. Whether planets will survive major mergers is another question. In principle, most planets should be more or less OK. Despite the billions or trillions of stars involved, they are actually quite spaced out within galaxies (for example, the nearest stars to our sun are more than four light years away). Therefore, the chances of stars colliding are very small, at least at the sort of distances from the centre of the galaxy where we find ourselves. If the stars don't pass too closely together, their planets will also remain unharmed.

Of course, it's possible that a particular planetary system could be unlucky, but then it could also be unlucky enough to have a supernova explode nearby. In fact, if enough gas nearby is stimulated into forming stars during and after the merger, it could be that a future supernova (from a newly formed massive star) is more of a threat than the actual merger itself.

Finally, will the Earth survive Andromeda and the Milky Way merging? Not exactly, but not because of the actual merger. You see, the sun is scheduled to turn into a red giant before we get to the merger stage, so Earth as we know it will be long gone already.

But wait, there's more

This isn't the full story, of course. Mergers also lead to increased activity in galactic nuclei, but that's a topic I'll be covering next week. Watch this space!

Blog hiatus

Hi all. Unfortunately, I ended up being too busy to write sufficient posts to cover the "I'm on holiday" gap. This means, no new blog posts for a couple of weeks. I'm sure you'll all cope ;-)

Weird Worlds: Gleise 581

A quick note before I jump into the meat of this week's post. From next week, I'm going to be on holiday for about two weeks. I'm going to try to queue up a couple of blog posts to self-update while I'm gone, but if something goes wrong I may not be able to do anything about it until I'm back in normal-internet land.

So this week, I thought I'd do another entry in my Weird Worlds series. This time about a planetary system which has gained quite a bit of media attention: Gliese 581. (Pronounced something like "glee-zeh", if you're curious.)

You may have heard of Gliese 581 discussed in the media with phrases like "second Earth" or "super Earth in the habitable zone" being thrown around. So how like Earth are we talking? Which part of the habitable zone? What sort of star is Gliese 581 anyway? Read on!

The Star

First the basics: Gliese 581 (which I will now refer to as Gliefeo because I am lazy and typing numbers is annoying it rolls off the tongue better) has four confirmed planets and two unconfirmed planets. For the sake of not getting too carried away I will focus on the four confirmed planets, although it was one of the unconfirmed ones which drew a large slice of media attention.

Gliefeo itself is a red dwarf star only about a third of the mass of our sun and a bit less than a third of the size. This means that to be within the habitable zone, its planets need to be significantly close to it than Earth is to Sol. Furthermore, the stellar environment these planets will be living with is very different to ours. Here is a nice Space.com article about it.

All of Gliefeo's planets were detected using the radial velocity method.


The Planets

As I mentioned above, Gliefeo's four confirmed planets are all quite close to their sun. In fact, as the image below (taken from my favourite exoplanet app) shows, all four are well within the orbit of Mercury (the grey circle). And the second image below (also taken from my favourite exoplanet app) shows two blue circles indicating radial distances of 0.1 AU and 0.3 AU (an AU is the distance between Earth and sun).

Gliese 581 and its four confirmed planets designated, from innermost to outer: e, b, c, d. The grey outline shows where the orbit of Mercury would be if Mercury's orbit were picked up and plonked around Gliese 581. The green annulus shows the habitable zone for Gliese 581 and both Gliese c and d are within the habitable zone for at least part of their orbits. Image from Exoplanet iOS app by Hanno Rein.

A representation of the Gliese 581 system. The inner blue outline denotes an orbit of radius 0.1 AU and the fainter outer circle (click to enlarge) shows an orbit of radius 0.3 AU. The four planets from inner to outer are designated e, b, c and d. Image from Exoplanet iOS app by Hanno Rein.

Some technical details on each of the planets (all taken from the Extrasolar Planets Encyclopaedia) :

• Gliese 581 e:
• Furthest distance from Gliefeo: 0.03 AU
• Length of year: 3.15 Earth days
• Mass: 1.94 Earth masses
• Gliese 581 b:
• Furthest distance from Gliefeo: 0.041 AU
• Length of year: 5.37 Earth days
• Mass: 15.64 Earth masses = 0.91 Neptune masses = 1.08 Uranus masses
•  Gliese 581 c:
• Furthest distance from Gliefeo: 0.07 AU
• Length of year: 12.9 Earth days
• Mass: 5.36 Earth masses
• Gliese 581 d:
• Furthest distance from Gliefeo: 0.22 AU
• Length of year: 66.8 Earth days
• Mass: 7.09 Earth masses = 0.41 Neptune masses = 0.49 Uranus masses

The last two planets, c and d, are the most interesting because of their location in the habitable zone.

Habitability

So are the two outermost planets of Gliefeo habitable? Well, probably not. In fact, chances are, none of these planets are able to support Earthlike life. Ignoring the issues with the star itself, as mentioned in the Space.com article I linked above, there are problems with all four planets.

Gliese 581 e is the closest to Earth in mass which, depending on its size (and composition) could mean that we could safely walk upon its surface from a gravitational point of view (well, safely is relative, but we probably wouldn't die instantly). However, it's so incredibly close to the star that it would definitely be to hot to support life.

Gliese 581 b is the largest of the four at around the size of Neptune. This almost certainly makes it a gas giant with a very dense atmosphere that would crush us if we tried to find a surface. It would also be very hot, not just because of it's proximity to the star, but because of the insulating effect of that thick atmosphere.

Gliese 581 c skirts the inner edge of the habitable zone, probably making it too warm for comfortable life. It's heavier mass also suggests a thicker atmosphere than Earth's (although this is purely speculation) and it could be more similar to Venus in terms of climate. That is to say: very inhospitable. It's surface gravity would probably also be a bit too strong for us, though this would depend a bit on composition.

Gliese 581 d falls into the class of planets somewhere between Earthlike and (mini) gas giant. We're not completely sure at what mass point planets stop being rocky and turn into mini gas giants.

(Side note: the mini and the giant should really cancel out, shouldn't they? Maybe we should call them gas balls to distinguish from larger gassy planets like the gas giants Jupiter and Saturn. But then, where would you draw the line? I suspect it would end up depending on the composition of the gas at lesat partially.)

So while Gliese 581 d spends roughly half its time in the habitable zone and half beyond it, it's probably not inhabitable itself. However, if it had any rocky moons like the solar system gas giants we know and love, those moons have a reasonable chance of being habitable. With the added advantage that they're going to be (probably) tidally locked to the planet, not to the sun, allowing the sun to more evenly warm its surface.

It's interesting, really, that of all the exoplanets discovered so far—not just around Gliefeo—the area most likely to be habitable is a moon of a gas giant. Really that says more about our detection techniques than anything else, but it does suggest some interesting possible world building.

Requests?

As I mentioned in the intro, I'm going away and hope to have some blog posts prepared in advance. However, my brain is all used up organising travel-related things without much room left for thinking about stories or reading new articles (my primary sources of blog post inspiration). So if any of you lovely readers have any requests for future posts, drop me a line in the comments!

Gravity inside solid (and hollow) bodies

I have in the past talked about gravity on the surface of a planet and ways of creating artificial gravity on things like space stations. Today, I thought I'd talk about what happens when you start to move into a planet, particularly deep beneath the surface (perhaps more applicable to asteroids, small moons and other bodies without plate tectonics, although I can envisage a story taking place inside a gas giant that might need to take this sort of thing into account). Alternatively, this also applies to giant hollow spheres, y'know, if that's your Big Dumb Object of choice.

Alternate titles for today's post could be "Why Jules Verne's Journey to the Centre of the Earth was inaccurate from a physical point of view (as well as biologically), even taking the physics of the day into account" or "The Shell Theorem". I thought I'd stick with something both short and explanatory.

Hollow Shell

OK, this is the simplest case so I'm going to start here. Consider a large hollow sphere. Make it massive enough that it has an appreciable gravitational attraction from the outside (Hmm... no one really talks about the gravitational field of the Death Star, probably because Star Wars is full of unexplained artificial gravity, but that sort of structure would be ideal to keep in mind).

From the outside, it would behave the same way as a non-hollow sphere of the same mass. Basically, with anything roundish you can just pretend that all the mass is at the centre and do your gravitational force equations from there. That's what we do for planets. And it works fine if you're floating around outside or standing on the surface, but things are a little different once we move inside. Below, I've put a little doodle of a shell with some labels to make it clearer what I'm talking about.

The grey circle is our spherical shell. R is the radius of the shell, r is the distance from the centre to the location of interest. I used snowmen with jaunty hats as stand-ins for stick figures because I found them in the list of symbols in Helvetica. You can pretend they're space-suited people with comms devices on their heads (or brain slugs) if you prefer.

So outside the sphere, at positions A and B, a regular calculation of the gravitational field based only on the mass, M, of the sphere and the distance, r, of the snowman from the centre of the sphere. The acceleration due to gravity is then:

g is acceleration due to gravity, G is a constant, M is the mass of the sphere and r is the distance from the centre. The equation applies for objects outside of the sphere (ie positions A and B) in the image above.

The only difference, really, between A and B is that at B the distance from the centre is equal to the radius of the sphere (r = R) so you can just substitute R for r.

Let's look at C now. In the centre of the sphere, the gravitational pull from each bit of shell is exactly balanced by the gravitational pull of the bit of shell directly opposite. Easy. All the gravitational forces from all the bits of the shell cancel out and overall there is no gravitational pull in any direction so the centre snowman would feel weightless. (Technically not free-fall as we could use in orbit since there is no falling involved. Just saying.)

OK, what about snowman D then? This is the really cool part. As with C, every bit of the shell pulls on him in different directions. You might think that D would then fall towards the nearest edge of the shell, but this isn't the case. Although D is closer to some edges than others, the forces still all cancel out. How nifty is that? The actual mathematical derivation is a bit complicated but you can read about it on wiki if you are interested. Instead, I present a graphic that qualitatively explains it in a very hand-wavey way:

I highlighted two bits of shell above which would cancel each other out. Remember that as well as mass, the gravitational pull also depends on proximity and in fact drops off with the inverse square of proximity (inverse square means 1/r²). There is less mass in the closer bit of shell but the larger blob of shell is larger in such a way that the further distance cancels out the increased mass exactly. Also my drawing is fairly rough but hopefully you get the idea.

Wow, that turned out even more vague an explanation than I'd hoped. Oh well.

One more thing I offer without any explanation (other than Gauss's Law mentioned and linked-to in brackets) is this: The shell theorem is not confined to only spherical shells. Within any shape of enclosure, there will be no gravitational force due to the enclosure so long as no part of the enclosure extends inside itself. What I mean is, it has to be hollow. Also, it has to be closed, meaning it has no holes in it (but I think that holes with a symmetric counterpart on the opposite side would be OK within reason).

Inside solid bodies

Now for a solid sphere. Hopefully, it is obvious by now that outside the solid sphere gravity behaves normally (the same as points A and B on the first diagram). The next diagram only includes points C and D.

Again, R is the radius of the now solid sphere and r is the distance from the centre to the snowman/brain slug of interest.

For the sake of plausibility, let's just assume our snowmen/brain slugs are in a little spherical cavity inside the planet (and not buried under a tonne of rock). For C at the centre, we can just pretend he's inside a particularly thick shell. As with the thin shell considered earlier, this gives us a weightless snowslug at the centre.

D is a little bit more complicated and we need to consider it in two parts. First the section of the sphere that's outside of D's distance from the centre. That is, the shell of thickness R - r, if D is r from the centre, can be treated just like a shell from the first example and hence cancels out. That leaves us with the bit of sphere closer to the centre than D is. This bit we can treat the same way as if it were a regular sphere we were standing on top of:

As above, but here M(r) is the enclosed mass; the mass within r, the distance from the centre.

Easy! Even better, if we assume that the sphere is of uniform density (lots of things—Earth, gas giants, stars—aren't but asteroids probably are), then we can simplify this even further since the enclosed mass then becomes a simple function of the volume and, skipping the maths, we end up with a linear relationship: a straight line that runs from the surface gravity at r = R to zero at r = 0. Nifty!

Remember, R is the radius of the sphere (which shouldn't change!) and r is the distance from the centre.

So now, if you have a sizeable asteroid and you want to bury a base half way to the centre, you can work out what acceleration due to gravity your colonists/soldiers/evil genii will experience. Huzzah!

What was with that Jules Verne reference at the start?
Oxygen does not get denser closer to the centre of the Earth. Really, I shouldn't complain too much since he tried (outside of, y'know, the dinosaurs and the ability to walk the long distance to the centre of the Earth) but in some ways it's the trying not hard enough that sometimes makes it worse. But props for using the speed of sound to work out how far apart they were. -1 mark for not also taking air density into account.

A correction: You can't fall off Pan.

While writing a story which happens to be set on Pan, one of Saturn's moons, I realised that I had made an erroneous statement in a past blog post. Of course, I had to correct it.

In that post I made a passing comment that on Pan, the gravitational force of Saturn is greater than that of the moon itself. That statement was true. However, I went on to say that on the Saturn-side of Pan, you'd fall off because the gravity of Pan wasn't strong enough to overcome Saturn's gravity. This last part isn't quite true.

If you were on Pan, despite its weak gravity, you would be hurtling around Saturn at the same speed that Pan does, which means that you would automatically be going fast enough to stay in orbit (your centripetal acceleration would be balancing Saturn's acceleration due to gravity), no matter which side of Pan you were on. Admittedly, the low escape velocity (about 25 km/h) and the slight difference in gravitational pull from Saturn between the near and far ends would make it easy to fall off the planet and slowly spiral in towards Saturn, but you certainly wouldn't be falling upwards.

The more accurate statement I should've made was that if you were floating around in the vicinity of Pan's orbit and Pan came past you, its gravity would not be strong enough to pull you in over Saturn's gravity. No matter how close to it you were (even if you could touch the surface), if you were not already moving along with it, then Saturn's gravity would win out and you would fall towards Saturn, rather than towards Pan.

The original post has been amended to reflect the above correction.