He sat on the floor beside it and hung his head
between his knees.
"Are you all right, Astro?" asked Tom.
"Never mind me," panted Astro between deep gasps for breath, "just see
if hot-shot is O.K."
Tom quickly ran his hands up and down Roger's arms and legs, his chest,
collarbone and at last, with gently probing fingers, his head.
"No broken bones," he said, still looking at Roger, "but I don't know
about internal injuries."
"He wasn't pinned under that thing," said Astro at last. "It was resting
on a beam. No weight was on him."
"Uh--huh--ahhh--uhhhh," moaned Roger.
"Roger," said Tom gently, "Roger, are you all right?"
"Uh--huh?--Ohhhh! My head!"
"Take it easy, hot-shot," said Astro, "that head of yours is O.K.
Nothing--but _nothing_ could hurt it!"
"Ooohhhh!" groaned Roger, sitting up. "I don't know which is worse,
feeling the way I do, or waking up and listening to you again!"
Tom sat back with a smile. Roger's remark clinched it. No one was hurt.
"Well," said Astro at last, "where do we go from here?"
"First thing I suggest we do is take a survey and see what's left," said
Tom.
"I came up from the power deck," said Astro, "all the way through the
ship. You see this radar deck?" He made a sweeping gesture around the
room that looked like a junk heap. "Well, it's in good shape, compared
to the rest of the ship.
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