"It'll make it," Crag answered with certainty. Their safe landing had boosted his confidence. They'd land Baker and Charlie, in that order, he thought. They'd locate a shallow rill; then they'd build an airlock to protect them against chance meteorites. That's the way they'd do it; one ... two ... three....
"We've got it whipped," Prochaska observed, but his voice didn't hold the certainty of his words.
Crag said, "I was wondering if we couldn't assess the danger. It might not be so great...."
"How?" Prochaska asked curiously.
"No wind, no air, no external forces to disturb the ash mantle, except for meteorites. Any strike would leave a trace. We might smooth off a given area and check for hits after a couple of days. That would give some idea of the danger." He faced Prochaska.
"What do you think?"
"But the ash itself is meteorite dust," he protested.
"We could at least chart the big hits—those large enough to damage the rocket."
"We'll know if any hit," Larkwell prophesied grimly.
"Maybe not;" Nagel cut in. "Supposing it's pinhole size? The air could seep out and we wouldn't know it until too late."