When the crew had conspired to mutiny, when Radik, Olgan and the rest had decided to take over the operation of the Mercury II, at that time had been the need for honest anger. Jubil had hesitated weakly instead, had chosen to be a bystander and had suffered the fate of the average non-participant; he had been outcast from the closed circle of both friend and enemy. Kane, once Captain of the Mercury II, was now dead and his dis-charred body drifting somewhere in the spatial wilderness.
"Have you changed your thinking, Jubil?" It was Radik's voice in the helmet phones and Jubil could almost see the heavy face with its fringe of space-black beard. Jubil rested, listening to the cosmic interference in his R-link equipment.
"Jubil! Jubil Marken! Have you changed your mind?"
"Radik—" Jubil formed the words slowly, using his lips only and breathing shallowly. "Piracy suits you, Radik. You are one of the ruthless...."
Jubil could hear Radik's throaty chuckle. "A dead man of honor is still dead, Jubil." The communication circuit went silent except for the buzz of voices in the background. Jubil drifted on, conscious of the fact that he was moving but so full of the lethargy of the moment that he neglected it. What would it be like, this bit of time that was left? It had been an hour since Jubil had been forcibly ejected from the access door of the Mercury II; the flask at his back carried oxygen for four. Three hours of life—while around his slowly turning body was the agelessness of endless space. Jubil smiled, just a little, conscious of the fact that he felt no fear. The die was cast now; he had made his decision finally, and he did not regret it.
"There is space-craft in Sector 180, Jubil," it was Radik again, "Racon has just reported it. But they'll miss you by at least ten parsecs. Have you changed your mind?"
"No."
"Very well." Jubil could see the pulsing of the Mercury's drives, now. Radik was taking no chances on the strange ship still light years away from his stern being patrol. "Good news for you, Jubil. You are in the gravitational field of an asteroid. You can't see it, yet; it's directly above you. But you'll drift to it and cling like a snail on a stone for as long as time itself. Good-bye, Jubil."
Strange, Jubil thought, that there was no anger in him now. There should be oxygen enough for a good two hours yet, so this eerie ennui could not be the prelude to a rising carbon dioxide quotient. A normal man would be bitter, perhaps even hysterical in his anger and his fear of death. Yet there was only this peaceful drifting toward the still-invisible asteroid that hung in space above his own head. Jubil closed his eyes, shutting out the phosphorescence of the velvet that was space. The exhaust of the Mercury II might still be in sight. If so, it was not visible through the restriction of the plastic face-plate of Jubil's suit.
Jubil found himself wondering where Kane could have drifted since the captain's inert body had been shoved out of the Mercury II's access door. Perhaps, even now, it was bound, like a rudderless ship, toward the selfsame asteroid that would be Jubil's last and permanent home.