"Think you could bring her in?"
Matt gulped. "I’ll try, sir."
"Figure it out while I'm asleep." The cadet promptly closed his eyes, floating as comfortably in free fall as if he had been in his own cubicle. Matt concentrated on the instrument dials.
Seven minutes later he shook the oldster, who opened his eyes and said, "What's your flight plan, Mister?"
"Well, uh-if we keep going as is, well just slide past on the out-orbit side. I don't think I'd change it at all. When we close to four thousand feet I'd blast until our relative speed is down to about ten foot-seconds, then forget the radar and brake by eye as we pass along the side."
"You've been studying too hard."
"Is that wrong?" Matt asked anxiously.
"Nope. Go ahead. Do it." The oldster bent over the tracking 'scope to assure himself that the scooter would miss the Station. Matt watched the closing range, while excitement built up inside him. Once he glanced ahead at 'the shining cylindrical bulk of the Station, but looked back quickly. A few seconds later he punched his firing key and a plume of flame shot out in front of them.
A scooter has jets at both ends, served by the same interconnected tanks, fuel pumps and piping. Scooters are conned "by the seat of your pants" rather than by complex mathematics. As such they are invaluable in letting student pilots get the feel of rocket ships.
As the distance decreased Matt felt for the first time the old nightmare of rocket pilots: is the calculated maneuver enough to avoid a crash? He felt this, even though he knew his course would slide him past the corner of the mammoth structure. It was a relief to release the firing key.