you come up with? Why did that switching operationfail out in space."
"I don't know."
His shaggy eyebrows shot up. "You don't know? Is that all COMCORP gotfor three days' pay?"
"A confession of ignorance is a hell of a lot more revealing than asolid error," I snapped. "The honest answer that I get out of thetelemetry data is that something in that gate broke the circuit andthe switching operation failed. I think there are about seven thousandcomponents in the gate. I don't know which one failed. A few I canrule out, because they would only cause part of the gate to fail. Buta hundred different breaks could account for the data. So I don'tknow."
He lit his pipe and blew smoke around the curved stem before he madereply. "So we got a philosopher for our money," he said. "A confessionof ignorance, eh? What are you going to do about it?"
"You tell me, Mr. Cleary. You're the old head around here."
"So I am," he said evenly. "So I am. Well, my advice to young pups isthat they should not be ashamed when they don't know. They should sayso. But they should have something else to say along with it."
"For example," I suggested grumpily.
"They should say, 'I don't know, but I know where to find out,'" hesaid. "Tell me, Dr. Seaman, do you know where to find out?"
He puffed at me for the two or three minutes I thought about it.Really, that's a very long time to think. Most ideas come to you themoment you identify the problem, which is the really hard part ofthinking. But this problem took some thought, and I wanted him tothink I was thinking.
"Yes," I said at last. "I know where to find out."
"Where?"
"Out in space."
* * * * *
This called for a lot more smoke. "You mean, go out there and look atthe satellite, in space?"
"Yes, I can't imagine any other way really to figure it out."
He nodded. "You may be right, Mike. But do you know how much it coststo send a manned satellite aloft?"
"Oh," I agreed. "There are cheaper ways. We can beef up every part inthat gate, test it much tougher than we already have, and when we getthe gate to where all seven thousand components can stand anyimaginable strain, we can rebuild the twelve Telstars we haven'tlaunched yet and be pretty sure they won't have switching failures.But that isn't what you asked me."
"We'd have to fix eighteen of them," he said. "The first six are aboutsixty per cent useless. They'd have to be replaced."
"I still think you should consider sending a man to examine theTelstars in orbit," I suggested.
"Science demands it, eh" he growled.
"No, I was thinking that perhaps a simple repair could be made inspace, and that you wouldn't have to launch six extra birds."
He got out of the chair and went to the clothes tree to put on hiscoat. The elbows were shiny from leaning on his desk. "It might becheaper at that," he said. "The first six are launched in only twoorbits. Three telstars in each orbit, separated by one hundred andtwenty degrees. Two launches of a repair man might do it, with carefulhandling. Is that what you had in mind?"
"Something like that."
"We'd have to send a pretty rare kind of a repair man, Mike," he said,coming back to sit on the corner of his desk and glower down at me.That was about his kindest expression.
"Yes," I agreed. "You need somebody who can test and diagnose, andthen make a repair."
"And who is an astronaut, too," he said. "I wonder if there is such athing?"
"Make one," I suggested.
He scowled a little more fiercely. "Explain that," he ordered.
"I figure you could take one of our men from my laboratory, who knowshow to test the gate, and a man who is handy enough with miniaturecomponents to cut out the one that failed and replace it, and teachhim how to get around in a spacesuit. That would surer than hell bequicker than taking one of these hot-shot astronauts and teaching himsolid-state physics."
"Yes," he agreed, looking down his fingers. "That was a pretty sneakyway to get out from between Fred Stone and me, young man."
I couldn't resist it: "That's what took most of the three days," Isaid, just a little too smugly.
"I liked you better in the middle," Cleary grumped. "Well, you have athought, and it calls for a conference." He took his coat off again,hung it on the clothes tree, came back to his desk and got on thephone.
"Sylvia? Have Fred Stone come up, and you come in with him, eh? That'sa dear."
He racked up the instrument and smiled at me as he stoked his pipeinto more activity. "Relax," he advised me. "It always takes a whileto round up Fred Stone."
He wanted no small talk, so I fidgeted in my chair while Cleary rockedgently in his. In about ten minutes, curly-headed Sylvia brought Dr.Stone in with her.
* * * * *
It was, "Hello, Fred," and "Hello there, Paul," when they came in.Sylvia didn't have anything to say, although she gave me a hot-eyedglance before pulling out the dictation board on Paul Cleary's deskand making herself comfortable with her notebook.
Cleary offered Doc Stone some of his tobacco, which was politelyrefused. The old man began it:
"Your Dr. Seaman has quite an idea, Fred," he said, in a mild, kindlyvoice, with a dumb, guileless look on his face.
"Good, Paul," Doc Stone smiled thinly. "I've told you he's a goodboy."
"Hm-m-m," said Cleary. "He says his tests can't prove what went wrongwith the switching gate on the satellites, and in effect that thetelemetry doesn't make it plain whether we have design or assemblytrouble."
"Well, _well_!" said Fred Stone. I decided to start shopping for amarker for my grave.
"Yes," Cleary said. "He made quite a suggestion, that we send a manout in space to look over the Telstars and find out what went wrong.Even better, he says it might be possible to make a repair at the sametime and get the bird working. You can see the advantages of doingthat, the way they are orbiting."
"Yes, indeed," Doc Stone said, looking at me with slitted eyes. "Quitea unique adventure for some technician."
"Just what I was thinking," Cleary said. "The problem resolves into:Who do we send? Now Mike, here, says we should take a man from his labwho knows the bird and its assembly and teach him how to get around ina spacesuit--that, he claims, would be quicker than taking one ofthese space jockeys and making a technician out of him."
"I think he's right."
"So--there we are. Who do we send?"
"There can hardly be any choice," Dr. Stone said, looking at me witheyes like granite.
"Hardly," Cleary agreed. "The head of the lab is the best man, beyonda doubt."
They were talking about me! Try to get out of taking sides, would I?Cleary wanted me back in the middle. Stone wanted me dead. They wereboth likely to get their way, unless I told them off.
I opened my mouth. Cleary cleared his throat loudly.
"Oh, Dr. Seaman!" Sylvia cut in, breaking her careful silence. "What athrilling opportunity for you!"
I gaped at her. Well, Cleary had said it. She only went out withastronauts. She was space-happy.
"There are men in the shop who deserve the chance...." I started.
"Nonsense!" she said quickly. "It's your idea, doctor, and you deservethe fame!"
"And the promotion this will undoubtedly earn--if you can bring itoff," Cleary added.
"Yes!" Dr. Stone said with relish. He didn't think I could, either.Well, that made three of us, unless Sylvia made four.
"Thank you very much," I started, as a prelude to backing out.
"Good, that's settled," Cleary said. "That's all, Sylvia."
She got up and left. She had done her dirty work. If I hadn't been sosick at my stomach, I would have had to admire really great teamwork.
Stone shook my hand with an evil kind of relish and followed her out.
That left Paul Cleary and me alone. "This is a great thing, youngman," he said.
I couldn't stand him any longer. "You are a worm!" I told h
im.
"You're probably right, Mike," he agreed, without any particular heat."But a rather just one. I think you'll admit you've been paid off inyour own coin. All you had to do was beg off."
"In front of her? You knew I wouldn't."
"I _figured_ you wouldn't. That's one of the advantages of beingolder. You know more about how the young