"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?"