"Lousy," he told them. He gave a brief run-down.
"Just happened to think that I could help guide you. I'll work you with the scope," Prochaska said.
"Of course," Crag exclaimed, wondering why they hadn't thought of it before. One thing was certain: they'd have to start remembering a lot of things. Thereafter, they checked with Prochaska every few minutes.
The ground constantly changed as they progressed. One moment it was level, dusty with ash; the next it was broken by low rocky ridges and interlacing chasms. Minutes extended into seeming hours and they had to stop for rest from time to time. Crag was leading the way across a small ravine when Larkwell's voice brought him up short:
"Commander, we're forgetting something."
"What?"
"Radcounters. Mine's whispering a tune I didn't like."
"Not a thing to worry about," Crag assured him. "The raw ores aren't that potent." Nevertheless he unhooked his counter and studied it. Larkwell was right. They were on hot ground but the count was low.
"Won't bother us a bit," he affirmed cheerfully.
Larkwell's answer was a grunt. Crag checked the instrument several times thinking that before long—when they were settled—they would mark off the boundaries of the lode. Gotch would want that. The count rose slightly. Once he caught Larkwell nervously consulting his meter. Clearly the construction boss wasn't too happy over their position. Crag wanted to tell him he had been reading too many Sunday supplements but didn't.