"That's not what I meant," he said quietly into my ear. "Nelly's out of steering fuel, too. I can't pick you up!"
I gulped on that one.
"Canaveral Control!" I heard him call.
"Cut that out," I said. "They can't help. Shut up and let me think."
But he didn't, and I couldn't. I had no fuel with which to move. Sid had only the retros and stern rockets, no good for swinging or turning. I was out of touching range of the bird, and couldn't shove against it to build up a little drift. Just as Sylvia said, it's not like swimming back to shore.
There was a lot of excited chatter in my earphones, in which I did not participate. Nobody made any sense, and Sid shut the thing down.
"Mike!"
"Yeah." Disgusted.
"Whatever you dope out, make it quick. You don't have all the air in the world." Sid warned me.
"How much?"