Indy stumbled forward, fell to his knees, and grabbed a fistful of flight suit.
Together they pulled her back into the airplane, dragging her forward toward the cockpit.
Her face was bloody. Beneath the red smears and splotches, her skin was deadwhite from the blasting wind and cold. 'Oxygen,' Indy said to Chino. 'Quickly!
She's lost her bottle. Get another one.'
Chino was gone. Immediately Indy took a deep breath, held it, and hooked Gale's oxygen line to his own bottle.
Almost at once he started feeling dizzy. Fighting to retain his senses, he hooked his bottle to Gale's waist. Darkness began closing in as peripheral vision faded. The next moment the bright lights dancing before his eyes dimmed; then Chino was there by his side with a full bottle, hooking him up.
'Joe, get up front. Try to bring Rene back here from the cockpit. Gale will be okay in a moment. But whatever happens, make sure Rene has oxygen. Stop any bleeding. Gale will help; she knows what to do.'
Joe went forward. Indy put his hand to Gale's face. She gripped it tightly.
'It's all right. I'll be okay. Just help me up so I can help Rene.'
'Indy! Will here. Come forward. Joe's got Rene. He's shot up. I need you with me.'
Indy worked his way past Chino as he moved Rene to a sitting position against the cabin wall. He slipped into Rene's seat. 'Tell me what to do,' he said to Cromwell.
'They've decided to run for it,' Cromwell told him. 'You can just make out that third disc that was after us. He's behind the airship and trying to get back on board. It's a bloody stupid move, I'll tell you that.'
Cromwell was shoving as hard on the throttles as he could, trying to squeeze every ounce of speed from the Ford.
'Why . . . I mean, what you said,' Indy asked.
'Why, that pancake can't slow down this high,' Cromwell said quickly.
'We've just seen that. The way he's going he'll be three hundred miles an hour faster than that gasbag. Go right on through that thing like a nightmare on the loose. If I don't miss my guess, whoever's flying that airship will have to tell that disc to bug off. Otherwise they'll be shooting at their own man.'
'All right. What do you want me to do?'
'Indy, m'boy, it pains me to say this, but we're going to get only one whack at that bloated ugly out there. Take a look at the gauges for the right engine.'
'Which—'
'The ones marked number three. The oil pressure, laddie. It's going downhill. And so will we the moment that engine seizes up. I've got to stop that before it does, or we may have a fire on our hands. Look under the right wing, Indy.'
'I see what you mean.' Indy stared at the huge black stain covering the underside of the wing above and behind the engine. 'We took some hits. Same time they blew away the rocket canister. Okay, let's get that zep, Will. Now.'
'It's in the cards, m'boy. Now, see that red Thandle in the center of the panel?'
Indy leaned forward, pointing, then reaching for the handle.
'Don't!'
'What—'
'Not yet, not yet. When you pull that handle, it ignites the rockets in the canister under the left wing. All three rockets will fire off at the same time. I'll tell you when, and it will be soon, and—Look at that bloody fool!'
They watched the disc approaching the zeppelin from the rear. It was like a speeding bullet racing after a sluggish huge animal trying desperately to get out of the way. 'See the landing platform? That works fine at low altitude, but up here that thing simply cannot hover.'
'Or even fly slow,' Indy observed.
'Right you are. Now, if I'm right, they'll swing the tail of that blimp up and to the left and—there it goes!'
Much closer now to the great airship, they could see in greater detail. The disc pilot was obviously desperate to return safely to the zeppelin. Indy watched a spume of dark smoke whirling about the disc as it slowed for its approach and landing on the zeppelin ramp.
'Unless I miss my guess, off he goes,' Cromwell said.
They watched the disc wobble from side to side, a skittering crablike motion.
'He's losing it!' Indy called.
'That he is . . .' Cromwell murmured. 'Ah, the bottom is falling out.'
The disc slewed wildly, trying to match the sudden motion of the airship as Cromwell had predicted. It was a mistake on the part of both craft. Unable to maintain altitude and control, the disc swept to one side, brushing the lower great vertical rudder of the airship. It tore through, and began a long plunge to the earth more than five miles below.
'We'll never have a better chance,' Cromwell said. 'We've got to attack before that engine quits on us.'
'How long . . . how much longer?' Indy asked. 'I'm getting into position now.
We've got to come around for a frontal attack. That will give us only one shot at them. We'll dive toward the blighter, and I'll hold the dive angle so you can yank on that handle. Starting to turn now.'
The airship loomed impossibly huge. Whoever was commanding the monster realized what the Ford pilot was attempting, for dark smoke suddenly increased behind the zeppelin. 'He's gone to full power, Indy. Get ready. It's now or never.'
