throwing them away. He was a singular small figure, standing on shining
steel, looking at one tin can after another and impatiently putting them
aside.

He found one that seemed to suit him. It was a large can. He knelt with
it, pressing a part of it to the hot metal of the satellite's hull. A
moment later he was ripping it apart. The solder had softened. He
unrolled a sort of cylinder, then bent again, using the curved inner
surface to concentrate the intolerable sunshine.

Joe caught his breath at the implication. Concentrated sunshine can be
incredibly hot. Starting with unshielded, empty-space sunshine,
practically any imaginable temperature is possible with a large enough
mirror. Mike didn't have a concave mirror. He had only a cylindrical
one. He couldn't reflect light to a point, but only to a line. Mike
couldn't hope to do more than double or triple the temperature of a
given spot. But considering what he wore on his back--!

Joe made his way clumsily to the spot where Mike now gesticulated to
Haney, trying to convey his meaning by gestures since Sanford would
overhear any spoken word.

"I get it, Mike," said Joe. "I'll help." He added: "Chief! You watch
Sanford. The rest of you try to flatten out some tin cans or find some
with flat round ends!"

He reached the spot where Mike bent over the plating. His hand moved to
cast a shadow where the light had played.

"I need more reflectors," Mike said brusquely, "but we can do it!"