"You're not, sir, and you know it and I know it," Jak smiled a bit strainedly. "I don't like it, but I know how you feel about this, so I'll keep quiet. How's your leg?"
"Thanks, Son. Our getting back first is very important to me, and I can rest and get well after we reach Earth and get the Board's confirmation on our claim. And don't forget that we might not get back at all if Bogin catches up with us. He's ruthless about anyone who gets in his way.... As for the leg, it aches some, but not like it did before. I really think it's healing in fine shape."
"Let's have a look." Jak threw back the covers, and peered closely at the leg, lifting it so he could better see all around it.
"Yes," he said finally, as he tucked in the blankets again. "It's almost healed, and there isn't a sign of inflammation. Not even a bump where the break was. I ... I sure hope I set it right, so that it won't bother you later on."
His father patted his hand. "You did a grand job, I know, Son, and I'm very grateful to you—as well as proud of having such a fine boy."
"Two fine boys, then, for Jon is certainly every bit as deserving of your praise as I am, sir."
"That I'll certainly buy!" Mr. Carver's eyes shone.
They all sat about during the day, eating as much as they could hold of Mrs. Carver's fine cooking, and relaxing gratefully in the comfortable one-gravity Earth-weight.
Jon and his father worked tirelessly until they had computed precisely where they were and how soon and how much more deceleration they would have to use to finish their trip. Then they, too, relaxed for the balance of the day.
Late that afternoon Jon suddenly swiveled his chair about to face his father's recline seat.