Kent Michaels opened his eyes. In front of him was a shattered
windshield. The light support struts were bent back. The heavy plastic
had crackled and powdered. He stared at it. It must have been quite an
impact. All he could remember was confused motion, then blackness.

He shook his head to clear his vision, then started to unfasten his
seat belt.

And his whole left side exploded as each individual muscle and nerve
set up a separate protest. He gritted his teeth against the sharp, red
knives of agony.

"Got to reach that belt and get out of here," he told himself. "Wonder
how long I've been out?"

He forced his hand to the buckle, then stopped.

"Oh, sure, you idiot," he said aloud. "Go ahead and let the belt go.
You can't hurt yourself by landing on your thick head."

He forced himself to ignore the agony in his side and shoulder and
looked around the cabin. Evidently, the ship had hit and rolled. He
closed his eyes, trying to remember.

He'd evaded the pass that first guy had made at him. Then, when the
second one showed up and dove in, he'd gone into a dead-duck spin. So
far, so good. Evidently, they'd been fooled. Probably never saw that
gag before. But what had happened after that? He searched his memory.

Oh, sure. He'd spun the ship under this overhang and set it down. And
the ground had double-crossed him. Even a duck couldn't have kept a
foothold on that ledge. He could remember the sudden tilt as the flier
slid over and started to roll. Then everything had happened at once. He
could remember trying to hold off the windshield from beating his
brains out, but---- He opened his eyes. No use trying to analyze that
part of it. Things had become confusing.

No matter how you figured it, he was here, hanging upside down in his
seat belt in a pretty thoroughly wrinkled up ship. He moved his left
arm experimentally.

His side went into screaming agony again.

Well, anyway, the shoulder wasn't broken. It could move--a little.

"Great," he told himself. "Now, how do you get out of this seat belt
without breaking your stupid neck?"

He reached out with his right hand, to feel the padded roof under him.
Well, maybe he could---- He set his teeth and forced his left hand to
the belt release. If he could just hold enough weight with that right
hand so that---- Well, no use worrying about it. Something had to be
done. He pushed against the release. The shoulder screamed almost
aloud. He started levering t