It was a confusion of flashing lights. I clutched at Anita.
"Come this way—run!"
The platform barely missed our heads. It sailed lengthwise of the dome-top, and crashed silently on the central runway near the stern-tip. Anita and I ran to it.
The two helmeted figures seized us, shoved us prone on the metal platform. It was barely four feet wide: a low railing, handles with which to cling, and a tiny hooded cubby in front, with banks of controls.
"Gregg!"
"Snap!"
It was Snap and Venza. She seized Anita, held her crouching in place. Snap flung himself face down at the controls.
The brigands in the lock were out on the dome now. I took a last shot as we lifted. My bullet punctured one of them; he fell, slid scrambling off the rounded dome and dropped out of sight.
Light-rays and silent flashes seemed to envelop us. Venza held the side-shields higher.
We tilted, swayed crazily, and then steadied.