However, he had bought himself perhaps a yard of time which must be put
to work. Turning to examine the seats, Ross discovered that they could
be unhooked from their webbing swings. Freeing all of them, he dragged
their weight to the stairwell and jammed them together to make a
barricade. It could not hold long against any determined push from
below, but, he hoped, it would deflect bullets if some sharpshooter
tried to wing him by ricochet. Every so often there was the crash of a
shot and some shouting, but Ross was not going to be drawn out of cover
by that.
He paced around the control cabin, still hunting for a weapon. The
symbols on the levers and buttons were meaningless to him. They made him
feel frustrated because he imagined that among that countless array were
some that might help him out of the trap if he could only guess their
use.
Once more he stood by the platform thinking. This was the point from
which the ship had been sailed--in the air or on some now frozen sea.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218