y tolerance. You don't understand, do you?
Look, when one flies and wants to alter direction, one applies
pressure to the control surfaces, altering their positions,
redirecting the flow of air over the wings, the rudder and so forth.
Now, in applying pressure, you occasionally have to ease up or perhaps
press a bit more, as the case may be, to counteract turbulence, shift
in air current, or any of a million other circumstances that can
occur. That all depends on touch. It's what makes some flyers live
longer than others. It's like the drag on a fishing reel. You set it
tight or loose according to the weight of the fish you're playing.
When you reel in, the line can't become too tight or it will snap, so
you have the drag. It's really quite ingenious. It lets the fish pull
out line as you reel in. It's the degree of tolerance that makes it
work well as an instrument. In flying, the degree of tolerance, the
compensating factor is in man's hands. In the atmosphere, it's too
unpredictable for any other way.

* * * * *

Well, they calculated to set the dive brakes at twelve degrees at the
point where Lynds was. Lynds saw it all.

"This is more like my cup of tea," he said at that point. "Harry, the
sky is a strange kind of purple black up here."

"They're going to activate the brakes, Den," I said. "What's it like?"

"Not yet, Harry. Not yet."

I looked at Bannister. He noted the chart, his finger under a line of
calculations.

"The precise rate of speed and the exact instant of calculation,
Captain Jackson," Bannister said. "Would you care to question anything
further."

"He said not yet," I told him.

"Therefore you would say not yet?"

"I would say this. He's about in the stratosphere. He knows where he
is now. He's one of the finest pilots in the world. He'll feel the
right moment better than your instruments."

"Ridiculous. Fourteen seconds. Stand by."

"Wait," I said.

"And if we wait, where does he come down, I ask you? You cannot
calculate haphazardly, by feel. There are only four points at which
the landing can be made. It must be now."

I flipped the communications switch, still looking at Bannister.

"This is it, Den. They're coming out now."

"Yes, I see them. What are they set for?"

"Twelve degrees."

"I'm dropping like a stone, Harry. Tell them to ease up on the brake.
Bannister, do you hear me? Bring them in or they'll tear off. This is
not flying, anym