When it was time, Jak again gave the family the dosages of nutrients, and then the shots. Jon had filled four thermos bottles with strength-regaining soup his mother had made, and these were placed at each pressure-pack, ready for their awakening. Again the four lapsed into the complete unconsciousness of suspended animation—knowing neither discomfort nor the long passage of time—while their little ship bored through the immensities of space at a constant negative acceleration of five gravities.
As before, when they awakened they felt as though they had just gone to sleep. As soon as they had taken their initial feedings of the thermos-hot broth, Jon and his father set to work taking observations and making long and intricate calculations of their present speed and placement. Where were they? How much of their utterly incomprehensible top speed did they have left?
"Practically perfect!" Jon exclaimed happily after nearly an hour of careful computations, as he read the last tapes from the calculator. "It works out at one point eight four G's to atmosphere."
"O positively K," Mr. Carver agreed. "A master computer couldn't have done any better. And Jak has certainly proved himself to be a grand doctor."
"It's not my credit. Dr. Svendholm's the one who...."
"But it was you who made up the fluid and induced us to take it." His mother came over and ran her hand gently through his hair. "I'm proud of you all."
Jon had been tuning his receptors carefully, but was unable to get any trace of Bogin's ship, and all were happy at his report.
Warm baths and changes of clothing, and the fine meals prepared by Mrs. Carver, plus the fact they were rapidly nearing Sol, which could be seen on their telescopic plates, made them all very gay and full of chatter.
"I've decided I want to go back to the hospital-school and really prepare myself to be a doctor," Jak said in no uncertain terms. "Later I want to go into medical research."
"And I still want to enroll at the Centropolitan Institute of Atomics." Jon's eyes were shining.