Belts parted like rotten string; they were thrown forward with crushing force against the control panel. They groped feebly for support, their bodies twisting involuntarily, as the ship cartwheeled a dozen times in a few seconds. Almost instantly, consciousness was battered from them.
With one final, grinding bounce, the cruiser rolled to its side, twisted over and over for a hundred yards, then came to a metal-ripping stop against a moss-grown boulder at the water's edge.
III
Kerry Blane choked, tried to turn his head from the water that trickled into his face. He opened his eyes, stared blankly, uncomprehendingly into the bloody features of the man bending over him.
"What happened?" he gasped.
Splinter Wood laughed, almost hysterically, mopped at his forehead with a wet handkerchief.
"I thought you were dead!" he said simply.
Kerry Blane moved his arm experimentally, felt broken bones grate in an exquisite wave of pain. He fought back the nausea, gazed about the cabin, realized the ship lay on its side.
"Maybe I am," he said ruefully. "No man could live through that crash."