Jon did not answer, and Jak watched in the plate as the ground below appeared to rush closer each second. It almost seemed to him they were not slowing as fast as was usual on landings, but he was not unduly worried—he trusted Jon to know what he was doing ... even if he didn't!
But apparently Jon was not satisfied—for when the ship was only a few hundred yards above ground, he suddenly worked frantically at his controls, and the nose of the little yacht came up sharply and she zoomed into the upper air with a push from her stern tubes.
Thirty-some miles up, Jon set the ship into a circular orbit, then got out of his pilot's seat and began tinkering with some of the controls.
"What's wrong?" Jak asked. "How come you went down without following the manual, and then came up again?"
But Jon was tight-lipped and uncommunicative. Their mother's voice came over the intercom, asking why they had not landed, and Jon answered her question.
"Just a slight miscalculation of height, Mom, so I came up to try again," he answered. "Stay strapped down—I'll be going down again in a minute."
Soon he was back in his seat, scanning his various instruments, then again Jak saw him throw that one switch. Once more the little ship began settling toward the ground beneath, without any handling of the controls.
This time the landing was smooth, soft and even. Still without any move by Jon, Jak could feel the various generators and engines stop, the landing props go down, and finally the board show a clear green "neutral" condition.
"How ... how come?" Jak gasped, and this time Jon chose to answer.
"Just rigged up a series of photo-electric cells and relays, so now all I have to do is throw one switch and it takes care of all the little details of landing, just as this other one does of take-offs." Jon tried to make it sound like an offhand comment. "My height-to-descent-speed ratio was off a bit, and that was what I had to fix."