"We're all done here, Pop, so what say we go back to that fuel-metal cache and see about getting the stuff aboard?" Jon asked.
"I guess from all you've said that's the most important thing now," he agreed after a moment's consideration. "Only thing is, I've been wondering if you couldn't move me into the control room, and fix a couch for me there?"
"Sure, that's easy," Jak told him.
But Jon frowned in thought. "Yes, we can do it, but we'll have to figure out first how to fasten the cot down and then make some arrangement so you can stand any acceleration we may have to use."
"How about fixing the co-pilot's seat into a bunk?"
"Hey, that's the ticket!" Jon brightened. He ran out and soon was helping his mother gather blankets, sheets and pillows, and going with Jak to bring an extra mattress from the storeroom.
They set the seat to recline, and then while Mrs. Carver was making up the bed, the boys carried their father—a much lighter load now than when he had first been hurt—and put him in his new bed.
"Say, this is all right!" Mr. Carver exclaimed after Jon had lowered the co-pilot's visiplate so his father could look into it without distortion or neck-craning. "All the comforts of home." He grinned at his wife.
She stooped and kissed him. "Be sure and let us know any time you get too tired, though, Mr. C."
"I will, Honey," he assured her. "But actually, I'm so comfortable I don't see why I can't stay here as well as in bed, until the leg's strong enough to start getting up."