Prochaska cursed softly. The rocket seemed riveted to the black sky for a fraction of a second before it began to fall. Faster ... faster. It smashed into the lunar surface, lost from sight.
"Exit Baker," Prochaska said woodenly. Quietly Crag got on the communicator and reported to Gotch. There was a brief silence when he had finished.
Finally Gotch said, "Drone Charlie will be launched on schedule. We'll have to reassess our logistics, though. Maybe we'd better knock off the idea of the airlock-in-the-gully idea and shoot along extra oxygen and supplies instead. How does the meteorite problem look?"
"Lousy," said Crag irritably. "We've had a scary near miss. I wouldn't bet on being able to survive too long in the open. Again there was a silence.
"You'll have to," Gotch said slowly, "unless you can salvage Baker's cargo."
"We'll check that."
"You might investigate the possibility of covering the Aztec with ash."
"Sure ... sure," Crag broke in. "Good idea. I'll have the boys break out the road grader immediately."
"Don't be facetious," Gotch reprimanded. "We have a problem to work out."
"You're telling me!"