nnected
one component to another. Space was lacking, and the wire was tight
against the metal of the gate. Its insulation was one of these
space-age wonders, a form of clear plastic that would remain ductile
under zero temperature and pressure. Only it didn't. It had shrunk and
cracked, and there was a simple short against the metal of the gate.
There were so many forms of circuit-breakers and self-protectors in
the machine that the whole gate had been switched off as long as the
short was in existence. No wonder telemetry hadn't told us anything.

As I prepared to fix the trouble, I switched on my radio and had Sid
connect me with the ground. "Canaveral Control," one of those
emotionless voices said. He could afford to be. He was on the ground.

"Get me Cleary," I ordered.

"Cleary here, Mike. What have you found, boy?" He sure was anxious
about that solenoid.

"Not much, Paul. Just that Fred Stone is a fathead, too. Over and out,
like they say." I switched off and went back to my work.

* * * * *

[Illustration]

The one thing I had nothing of was any kind of insulating material.
With my screwdriver I hacked a piece loose from the double-faced
sticky-tape I had used to keep loose parts from flying around, and
teased it under the wire with my tweezers. Perhaps I could have done
as well by heating the wire and bending it straight, but there was
little room, and I was afraid of melting a solder joint. So I took my
time teasing the tape through and finally got it to act as an
insulator without breaking the wire. How long it would stay there was
anybody's guess. It was held mechanically as well as by its sticky
action, but when the bird cooled off enough, the sticky effect would
lessen. I hoped the pressure between the wire and the gate could be
enough to keep it in place. Certainly no forces would be acting to
move it.

Just as I had figured, the reassembly was the tedious part. I had to
move around into about sixteen screwy positions to do all the fixing.
Finally it was back in one piece and I swung the gate closed.

When the final 4-40's were run up as tight as they were supposed to be
run, I reported to Paul Cleary. "Try her," I suggested. "I think I
found the trouble. No point my coming back down if it doesn't work."

They made me sweat it out for about ten minutes before Paul said,
"Runs like a watch, Mike. Put the spin back on her, boy." At least he
was quiet about his sol