Garry agreed. “It’s all my fault for trying to hold out so long.”
“Well, too late now to do anything,” Patch said.
“I don’t think we should give up hope,” Garry said. “They might still send out a ship to try to pick up this one. They know it’s lost, but of course they don’t know there’s anybody in it, and they may not know where to look for it.”
He investigated the sloping wall between him and the front window. The middle of it was shaped something like an old-fashioned roll-top desk, closed up.
“Hmm,” Garry thought to himself. “This ship has been run by remote control until now, but why shouldn’t it have controls of its own? If it does have them, they should be right here in front of me.”
Garry’s hopes soared again as he ran his hands over the light-green plastic slope in front of him.
“A button,” he whispered. “There must be a button or something that opens this thing up.”
“Hey, what’re you mumbling about?” Patch asked.
Garry was too concerned with what he was doing to answer his friend. Suddenly, he found something on the left side of the instrument. It was a button. He pressed it.
Two covers began swinging open in front of him, as stage curtains would do, revealing a bank of dials and levers.