I won't say the second job was any easier, except for the fact that I removed only one part to make room to do my bit with the insulation, and thus had very few screws to replace. My navigating in space was a lot better, and I didn't use steering fuel as wastefully as the first time. Still, when we dogged down to chase after the final bird, the cabin gauge said that I had less than half my load of steering fuel left. Equally glum, _Nelly_ herself was even lower on steering fuel. Neither Sid nor I had been as expert as we were supposed to be. Nevertheless, we took off after the third bird, and found it glistening in bright sunlight without the help of the searchlight. I thought that was a good omen. But from there on nothing seemed to work right. We had been aloft about thirty-six hours, and fatigue was setting in. I was clumsy on the steering and had quite a time making contact. The repair went according to Hoyle, but after I had put the spin back on the bird I found that I had no more steering fuel. I hung about ten or fifteen feet from Telstar Three and maybe eighty feet from _Nelly_, drifting slowly from both. "Sid!" "Roger, Mike." "This one will have to make it with the girdle on." "Can't you get it off?" "I can't get back to it. Steering fuel gone." "Oh, no!" "No sweat, Sid. It occludes a small share of the solar generators, but not enough to hurt anything." "That's not what I meant," he said quietly into my ear. "_Nelly's_ out of steering fuel, too. I can't pick you up!" I gulped on that one. "Canaveral Control!" I heard him call. "Cut that out," I said. "They can't help. Shut up and let me think." But he didn't, and I couldn't. I had no fuel with which to move. Sid had only the retros and stern rockets, no good for swinging or turning. I was out of touching range of the bird, and couldn't shove against it to build up a little drift. Just as Sylvia said, it's not like swimming back to shore. There was a lot of excited chatter in my earphones, in which I did not participate. Nobody made any sense, and Sid shut the thing down. "Mike!" "Yeah." Disgusted. "Whatever you dope out, make it quick. You don't have all the air in the world." Sid warned me. "How much?" "Ten minutes or so." "All right," I said. "It ought to be enough. Keep your eye on me. You may have to reach out an arm or leg for me to grab as I go by." "How are you going to move?" "I've got a lifesaver," I said. * * * * *