"Jon, boy, what will we do now? How will we ever manage without Mr. C?"
At this echo of his own questionings and doubts, the boy straightened. "We'll make out all right, Mom," he said with a bravado he certainly did not feel, but which he hoped she would think was genuine. "We'll have to make up our minds what we're going to do, then do it. We'll keep on with Pop's plans, of course." This was a statement rather than a question.
"Why ... why...." She seemed startled by the realization that she had to make a decision. "I hadn't thought about that yet." She was silent a moment, then turned to her elder son, who had also risen and was listening intently. "What do you think, Jak? You're older, so you'll have to take charge now and be the man of the family."
The slender, studious eighteen-year-old looked startled. "I ... I don't know," he stammered, his eyes suddenly filled with strange fears. "I ... I suppose we might as well go home. We don't know where we're going, or what we were to do when we got there...." He suddenly looked like a little boy who has lost everything and everyone in whom he had looked for and found comfort and security. "Don't ask me, Mother. I don't know what we're going to do. We're apt to die, without Father to keep us going safely!"
Jon stared at him, this brother he had always loved and to whom he had looked up as a strong, elder companion ... in spite of their almost continuous, although friendly, bickerings, which never disturbed the warm affection underneath.
Now he just couldn't believe his eyes and ears. This couldn't be Jak—the strong, reliable Jak!
Suddenly he felt a surge of anger and distrust. Yet immediately he was ashamed of himself for such feelings. This wasn't any minnow of a predicament they were in—it was a very whale of a mess. He was scared, himself, and could understand just how Jak must feel. But, by the great horned catfish, he wasn't going to let himself cry about it any more—especially in front of Mom! Something had to be done, and it would be done!
A thought flashed through his mind, and he straightened with resolve. "Shut up!" he yelled at his brother ... and when Jak and their mother stared at him in amazement Jon grinned calmly and said, half apologetically, "Just trying to snap you out of the dumps. I say we've got to think this out carefully, and not make any snap decisions—or give up like this. The ship's on automatic drive and decelerating, so we don't have to worry about running it for some time. But Pop wouldn't like it if we didn't keep on. You know how important this trip is to him. Besides, he'll be waking up soon, and even if he has to stay in his bunk, he can tell us what to do."
"Do you know where we're going, and why?" Jak was still upset.
"Sure. Pop talked with me a lot about it."