enoid.

This called for the second rocket canister, which I hooked on to the
girdle and, after thinking it out carefully, got headed in the right
direction. I eased away with finger pressure, and let the delayed fuse
do the firing. Telstar started her slow spin again.

Getting the girdle off was a lot harder than getting it on, something
we hadn't figured on, and in the final stages of the job I found that
my steering motors no longer fired.

[Illustration]

"Sid!"

"Roger, Mike."

"How much fuel do you read in my steering jets?"

"You've been out of fuel for about five minutes, by my gauge. But
don't worry about it," Sid said. "I'll nurse _Nelly_ over there with
my steering jets and pick you up."

"O.K.," I said doubtfully. "But watch it. Bump this bird and we'll
have it all to do over again."

Sid had more trouble than he had figured. He had steering jets to run
him in every direction except fore and aft. For that motion the
retro-rockets were considered enough. But one belch out of them was
enough to get me screaming into the mike: "Cut those retros!" I
yelled, the volume making my earphones crack, as it undoubtedly did
his.

"Roger. What's wrong?"

"You'll burn the solar generators right off the bird, you fool!
Steering jets, do you hear, steering jets!"

"Roger."

But it was not that easy. Finally Sid got _Nelly_ within about twenty
feet, and pretty near at zero relative velocity.

"All right, Sid," I said. "Hold it there. I'll push over."

A gentle shove against the side of Telstar was all it took. I got it
straight, which was all that counted. My drift was slow, and I was a
good five minutes making the twenty-foot crossing. But a handhold came
within reach, and I worked my way back into the cabin and climbed in
without shutting the hatch.

"Don't try that again," I cautioned him. "This thing weighs ten
thousand pounds, and that bird half as much. Even at a couple feet a
second, you can crush me to jelly between them, even if you don't burn
one or the other of us to a crisp."

"Roger," Sid said, not quite so emotionlessly. "Are we ready to move?"

"What for?" I asked him. "Until we get me some steering fuel, I'm
useless."

"I thought we'd abort this mission before we were through," he
sneered.

"Not so fast. You've got the same rig on your suit. All we have to do
is put your fuel tanks on my suit."

"Are you nuts?" he demanded.

"What's the matter with it? Those tanks aren't welded