lly I was within
touching distance of the bird, which was rotating with a certain slow
majesty on its long axis.

The leisurely spin was there to make sure one side didn't face the sun
too long and heat up. My plan called for stopping the bird's spin so
that I could get reasonable solar heating of the part I was working
on. The trouble was there was nothing to grab as the satellite turned.
But we had worked on that part, too, and I went into my act of backing
off the right distance, accelerating with my back rocket until I
drifted close by the bird at its translational speed. I got one end of
my sticky webbing stuck to it by pressure and decelerated so that the
bird turned under me while I paid off the web. In a moment I had it
girdled, and snapped the nifty sort of buckle they had made for me.
Then drawing the webbing tight was no trouble, and I was spinning with
the bird. My added weight slowed its spin down some.

* * * * *

Next came the trick of getting some special equipment loose from my
right leg. This was a little rocket canister which had just enough
poof, the slide-rule boys had said, to stop the rotation of the bird.
I fastened the canister to the webbing, pushed softly with one finger
to get me a few feet away, and drifted while waiting for the delayed
fuse to fire the antispin rocket. It lanced out a flame for a few
seconds, and sputtered dead. The bird hung virtually motionless
beneath me--or above me--or beside me--or whatever you want to call
it when there is no up or down.

Our light was dimming as we passed the terminator and pulled over
Earth's dark side. The sun was still visible, however, although soon
to be eclipsed by Earth. I jetted softly back to the bird and lit my
helmet light. I had to find the right face of the twelve-sided thing
so that I could open the right gate. The markings were there. They
were just hard to read from inside a helmet. Then the sun was
eclipsed, and my headlamp gave me the kind of light I was used to
working with. The sector I wanted was on the satellite's dark side. I
had to clamp on to the girdle and jet quite a while to turn it halfway
round, and then decelerate just as long to bring it to a stop. I
fooled around several minutes getting the sector to face where the sun
would soon rise.

My earphone spoke.

"Mike!"

"Roger, Sid. What's up."

"Take it easy on your steering fuel. You're getting low."

"Roger."

I had to wait