"Sure," I said and let myself drift out the hatch. I had enough sense to twist so that my back jet wouldn't hit the ship. Then I took a zig-zag course through the darkness to my bird, got oriented at the open gate and went back to work. Before I could get started, my earphones spoke.
"Mike, Cleary here."
"Roger, Paul. What is it?"
"Have you gotten to that solenoid yet?"
"Yes."
"What can you tell me?"
"That you're a fathead. Now shut up. I'm busy."
"Roger, Mike," Paul Cleary acknowledged quite meekly.
So I started again, reaching with my leads from point to point. After a certain number of tests, I had the area isolated, but not the part. From here on it would have to be disassembly. Every tiny screw had to be heated, then teased out with a jeweler's screwdriver. Some took my patented ratchet extension. The big miracle was that I didn't break anything.
