"It's already recorded." Crag grinned. "All but the Pickering Field part. Gotch wrote it out himself."
"Confident bastard." Larkwell smiled. "He had a lot more faith than I did."
"Especially the way you brought that stovepipe down," Nagel interjected. There was a moment of startled silence.
Prochaska said coldly. "I hope you do your job as well."
Nagel looked provocatively at him but didn't reply.
Larkwell had been studying the terrain. "Wish Able had made it," he said wistfully. "I'd like to get started on that airlock. It's going to be a honey to build."
"Amen." Crag swept his eyes over the ashy surface. "The scientists figure that falling meteorites may be our biggest hazard."
"Not if we follow the plan of building our airlock in a rill," Larkwell interjected. "Then the only danger would be from stuff coming straight down."
"Agreed. But the fact remains that we lost Able. We'll have to chance living in the Aztec until Drone Baker arrives."
"If it makes it."