"We can't take the big tele-lens outside," mused Doc, "so we'll have to record off the visi-plate. I'll go outside again, and spot for you, and you can line the 'plate on my bearings."
"Huh-uh. My turn," retorted Jon. "Why should you have all the fun? I'm going out this time, and you can shoot pictures to your little heart's content. Besides, I'm going to tuck my little personal camera into my helmet under my chin and get some shots on the spot."
"All right," snorted Doc. "But don't come crying to papa if you stub your toe. And look both ways before you cross the street. Here—let me blow your nose before you go out in the cold."
"Aw go to Helios, you retort-smasher. If I run into a ground squirrel, I'll skin him and bring you some hair."
Jon eased down the ladder and shuffled across the smooth surface until he was well clear of the ship.
"Nothing yet," he reported, and swept the horizon with his glance.
"I could have told you," said Doc nastily. "Your ugly face scared them away."
"Yeah," snorted Jon. "Every stenotyper at Explo has your beautiful mug pasted in the top drawer of her desk."
"Sure!" agreed Doc smugly.
"Well," said Jon impatiently, and under his breath. "Come on, you black boogers—I ain't got all day." Then he gulped.