Then there was an instant when he saw where he had gone wrong. He had not had enough fuel to do what he'd tried to do. That was clear by one look at Earth's face, which still grew alarmingly fast below him; and he could probably have figured it out before. But there had been a way which would have given him some chance. He should have used his fuel, not in a hopeless attempt to decelerate, but in deflecting himself so he would miss Earth! He would have passed by Earth, relatively close. He'd have passed fast, but not too fast to signal with his mirror to Earth's several satellites, natural and artificial. The spaceports on those satellites kept twenty-four-hour watches for signals of distress; when they saw a faint blinking light they would send out a ship which would try to locate its source. They were good at it, too, and if he'd kept his mirror spinning they might have picked him up.
But he hadn't thought of it. It had never occurred to him that even when he was alone, as thoroughly alone as anyone can ever be, his life could depend on dozens of other people. He'd thought only of reaching safety by himself. And, seeing only the one possibility, he'd played it blindly.
There was that instant of sickening realization, then a little later came an instant when Earth ballooned out grotesquely below him, suddenly filling most of his field of vision, and he saw lakes, islands, deserts. He felt all over him an abrupt, final flash of heat, and Nick Pappas became a meteor.