Next, pivoting, he struck out in the same general direction his pursuers had taken, but at such an angle as would let the pillar screen him from the cruiser.
A dozen yards farther on, a low, crumbling ledge crossed his path slaunchwise. Dropping down into its shelter, the man wormed swiftly along it till it played out in a wind-furrowed, trough-like hollow.
The hollow gave him cover to a dune, and the dune hid him till he reached the first spur of the strata that formed the outcrop his pursuers now were searching.
Staying low, out of view, Ross followed the spur till he reached the upthrust columns and ledges themselves. Then, a fist-sized rock in each hand, he rose and moved cautiously on into the maze.
Ahead, scar-faced Cheng came into view around a towering escarpment.
Instantly, Ross drew back. Tight-lipped, cold-eyed, he hefted the two rocks.
Scowling under black, bushy brows as he peered this way and that, blaster at the ready, Cheng shuffled closer ... closer....
Ross drew back a step. Then, through a slot between two great stone slabs, he lobbed one of his rocks high into the air above Cheng's head. Sailing in a swift arc, it struck the face of the escarpment and rattled noisily down the steep slope behind the slaver.
Like lightning, Cheng whirled, finger already rigid on his weapon's trigger.