"Morning, folks," he called cheerily. "Soup's on."
They opened their eyes slowly, almost uncomprehendingly, but awareness came quickly, and his mother and brother sat up and fumbled at their straps.
"Did we make it?" his father called anxiously. But Jak noticed at once how weak his father's voice sounded, and went across to his side.
"We sure did." Jon smiled broadly. "We were out just a little over five days, and the receptors don't show a thing behind. I woke up just a few minutes ahead of you, and that's one of the first things I looked at. Then I found I was weak and dry, so I went out and made this broth." He passed the cups and, as the others drank gratefully, Jon spoke again.
"I've got to hand it to you, Owl. You sure fixed us fine this time."
"He certainly did." Mr. Carver spoke as forcefully as he could, having already privately warned Jak to say nothing of his weakened condition. He looked solicitously over at his wife. "You all right, Marci?"
"Yes, I feel fine, now that I've had this good consomme Jon was so thoughtful as to make." She smiled with real relief that they had all come through this dangerous experiment so successfully.
Mr. Carver turned to Jon. "It feels like we're only at one gravity."
"Yes, I rigged the automatics so they'd take care of that at the end of one hundred and twenty-five hours," the boy explained. "Probably it was the relief from pressure that woke us, as well as the wearing off of the stuff Jak gave us." Then he looked at his brother. "How come we're not famished after five days? That little glucose and stuff you gave us wouldn't last that long, would it?"
"No, but the drug not only made us unconscious, but slowed down our metabolism so that we burned up hardly any energy."