Then, after he was sick for a moment there beside the airlock, he went back for Diane.
They were back aboard the Gormann '87 now, their own ship. Ralph had revived Diane and brought her back—along with the other Gormann's radarscope—to their battered tub. The bruise on her temple was badly discolored and she was still weak, but she would be all right.
"But what was it?" Diane asked. She had hardly seen her attacker.
"A man," Ralph said. "God knows how long that ship was in here. Years, maybe. Years, alone in space, here in the sargasso, with dead men and dead ships for company. He used up all the food. His shipmates died. Maybe he killed them. He needed more food—"
"Oh, no. You don't mean—"
Ralph nodded. "He became a cannibal. Maybe he had a spacesuit and raided some of the other ships too. It doesn't matter. He's dead now."
"He must have been insane like that for years, waiting here, never seeing another living thing...."
"Don't talk about it," Ralph said, then smiled. "Ship's ready to go, Diane."
"Yes," she said.