"What are you going to do?" Pappas murmured.
"To you?" said Birkerod. "Well, we can't take you with us; we don't want to kill you if we can help it; we can't turn you loose in the lifeboat, even if we keep most of the fuel, because we may need the lifeboat on Callisto. There's one thing left.
"If it's all right with Yusuf, we're going to put you altogether, completely on your own. You're not going to be working for anybody else, not even for stinkers like the Beldens. You're going to be all by yourself, and you're going to have to do a good job of looking out for yourself. Not for anyone else, just for Nick Pappas—'Number One,' as people used to say. We're not going to give you a word of advice, either. If we did, you wouldn't be independent enough. How does it sound, Yusuf? Appropriate?"
Garcia smiled. "Sounds about right, Arne. Maybe I'm too angry at the Beldens to think straight, but it sounds like a pretty appropriate way to handle Mr. Pappas. He'll be all on his own, and if he doesn't work things out just right—he'll get the most spectacular finish any individualist could ask for!"
Nick Pappas hung weightless in interplanetary space.
Ten meters away floated the Tang Chuh-Chih. One side of it glared white in the sunlight, the other side was jet black, visible only as a shadow across the stars. It floated there motionless, very close to him, but he knew he didn't dare to try to reach it, because it was going to start accelerating any second.
The faceplate of Pappas's spacesuit fogged slightly; he moved a hand inside the suit, adjusted the humidity control. When the faceplate had cleared, he saw that the Tang's rockets were already firing.
The ship still floated there, within shouting distance if there had been an atmosphere; but now from its jets there extended long, perfectly straight streaks of shimmering blue-violet. It seemed to Pappas as though he was drifting slowly parallel to the ship, in the direction of the jets. He shook his head to get rid of the illusion. He was remaining perfectly still, the ship's hull was sliding past him. When the jets were abreast of him, they cut off. He watched the ship receding, rapidly now. A minute or so later there were two short blasts on the steering jets; Pappas realized they were swinging the ship around so he wouldn't be caught in the rocket blast. Then the main jets started up again.
Pappas followed the ship with his eyes as long as he could distinguish it—which wasn't long. Then, he was alone.