How long had his nap lasted? The spacesuit's chronometer was running. Its minute hand indicated 37; its hour hand, 15; its day hand, 3. That would have told him how long he'd slept, if he'd read the chronometer before he went to sleep; but he hadn't. All he knew was that he'd slept much longer than he'd expected, and long enough to get painfully stiff. In any case, he'd covered a lot of distance. As much as the _Tang_ would have covered in the same time, he realized. He was approaching Earth pretty fast. "_Too_ fast," he added aloud, nervously. He'd have to decelerate before he got there or the parachute wouldn't do him any good. Now, was it time yet to start decelerating? If he directed the hand reaction motor in the wrong direction now, could it cause him to miss Earth? He guessed not: the planet looked so close, any small "sidewise" push he gave himself could hardly hurt. Once he killed his speed, Earth's gravitational field would gather him in. Pappas took out the reaction motor. Using low power, he turned himself till he faced Earth. The planet seemed to have swelled just in the time since he'd waked up. He set the reaction motor to full power, grasped it with both hands, held it in front of his chest, and pointed it straight at Earth. Then he pressed the button and held it down. The force of the hand jet pushed in at his midriff, made his legs and head swing forward. Well, that was okay as long as they didn't get into the exhaust. He stopped blasting a moment to get a better grip on the reaction motor, then fired continuously. Occasionally he would find he'd started himself spinning; then he'd shift the motor just a trifle to keep himself facing the planet. He kept the button firmly pressed down, and the cylinder in his hands sent a continuous jet of intense blue toward Earth. When the first fuel cartridge was exhausted, he put in the second and kept it up. Twice he stopped for a food pellet and a little water. The rests were welcome: his arms and chest were stiff and aching. But he didn't rest long, because he was getting really scared now. He was sure he was dangerously close to his destination, and his speed hadn't been cut enough. The continents and oceans of Earth's day side were clearly visible, and grew noticeably larger as he looked at them. He now thought of the direction he was going as _down_; he thought of himself as _falling_. Something bothered him: America had not been in sight a while ago, but now he could see a corner of Brazil appearing at the edge of the disk of Earth. Did that mean he was passing by Earth instead of falling straight at it? No, he realized in a moment, it just meant Earth was rotating; for he could see that the sunset line, the line between night side and day side, had not changed its apparent position on the disk. No, he was still falling. And he was _falling too fast_.