When the boys woke up the next morning, their mother reported that their father had apparently had a restful night, coming out of his coma briefly a couple of times.

After breakfast the two boys went into the control room and began examining the various instruments and recorders on the panel, to see if they could figure out how much longer it would take them to reach the system their father was seeking. Through the visiplates they could now see not only the sun toward which Jon said they were heading, but even its nearer planets were beginning to show appreciable discs.

As they were studying these, Jak suddenly asked, "How do you suppose we happened to run into a meteor way out here in space like that?"

Jon shook his head helplessly. "Darned if I can figure it out. I always supposed such stuff was only found inside a planetary system. Must be there's some in deep space, though, since we sure as perch got hit by one." He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small marble-sized stone. "Here it is. I hunted around and found it last night. It dented the farther bulkhead, but must have lost so much momentum it couldn't penetrate."

"Just one of those billions-to-one chances, eh?" Jak looked up from his examination of the stone.

"Yes, there's still so much about space nobody knows yet."

Jak thought silently for a moment, then asked, "Well, what do you think we should do next?"

"Keep going, natch." Jon's voice was earnest. "We can't be more than a couple of days away from the nearest planets—and we're over six weeks out of Terra. Pop said this system we're heading for has four or five planets, at least, and that probably Two and Three, and maybe Four, would be fairly Earthlike and habitable. So long as we're so close, it would be wrong if we didn't at least take a close-up looksee at them."

"Yes," slowly, "Father'd want us to do that."

"You know darned well he would. He's sunk almost everything he's got into this ship and this trip, and if we miss now, the government probably wouldn't give us another exclusive crack at it, even if we could scrape up the credits to come out here again."

"Didn't Father say something the other day about his spectro-analyzer—you know, 'Annie'—showing there was...?"

"Yes, 'Annie' popped up strong on that, and that's another reason we've got to keep going—especially since you think Pop'll snap out of it in a few days. You're sure of that, aren't you?" He peered intently into his brother's eyes.

"Yes, as far as I can tell. There's a concussion where his head hit the floor, but I don't think it's too bad, and it should wear off soon."

Jon sighed with relief. "If ... if he was dead, or dying, it would be different, and I'd say go home. But there's another thing. Before we left Terra we heard a rumor Slik Bogin was chasing around out in this sector, and we don't want to let him beat us to this system."

"Bogin? That's the notorious pirate, isn't it? No, if he's out here, we don't want to let him beat us—though what we could do if he did try, I don't know."

"We'll figure that out if he tries to hijack us."

"You hope!" There was a long silence while the boys studied their instruments again. Then, "What about landing, Chubby? Can you do it?"

"I've been studying up on it—put on the sleep-instructor last night." Jon was suddenly half-frightened with the prospect, but determined to keep his voice level. "I've helped Pop land the crate several times—even handled the controls under his instructions—so I think I can do it, with you reading off the manual to me. Anyway, if—if Pop gets worse, we've got to land some time, so we might as well try it here as any time or anywhere."

Jak stood silent a long moment, rubbing his hand through his hair as he did when concentrating. Then he looked up with determination. "Jon, you and I have got ourselves a job to do." And now his voice was steady and earnest. "It's up to us to take care of Mother and keep her from worrying. So, whenever we're where she can hear us, we've got to act brave and sure of ourselves, no matter how we feel inside."

"Yes, she's all broken up about Pop. We ought to do most of the work, too, so she...."

"No," Jak shook his head, "that'd be the worst thing we could do. She isn't sick, physically, and if she keeps busy, she won't have time to worry so much. So we must keep her from having too much idle time."

"Oh ... maybe you're right, Owl ... yes, guess you are, at that—that's more your dish. But we can act like everything's going to jet fair. It's a deal." He held out his hand, and the two brothers clasped in agreement.

They went into the living quarters. "Hi, Mom, lunch ready yet? I'm starved."

"As usual," Jak bantered.

Mrs. Carver looked up apathetically from the recline seat where she had been sitting, worrying, during the several hours the boys had been in the control room. She looked as though she were almost shocked at their seemingly heartless question, forgetting that she, herself, had used the same excuse the night before.

But in a moment she smiled tremulously. "I guess I let myself forget my job, and that we have to go through the motions of living." She rose slowly, and the boys came and put their arms about her. "Mr. C. wouldn't want me to break down like this. I'll try to do better."

She gave her sons a quick hug and went into the little galley, where they heard her moving about from the deep-freeze to cupboards to induction-cooker. Soon the smells of appetizing food spread throughout the ship.

Jon had gone back into the control room and picked up the reelbook on astrogation, opening it to the chart of the pilot panel. He was still studying this and tracing, from the diagrams in the book, the controls, switches and recorders on the panel itself. He memorized each one as he went along, and made sure he knew its functions.

When Jak called him to lunch, Jon carried the reel with him and continued studying it as he absentmindedly ate. His preoccupation with it raised his mother's fears again. "Can you make anything out of it, Son?"

"Huh?" He roused himself then, and grinned at her. "Sure, Mom, it's easy. Pop taught me most of it already, and I'm just refreshing my mind. I'll set us down in one piece, don't you fear."

"How soon will we arrive?"

"About tomorrow noon, I think, by our clocks. No telling what time it'll be there. I'll take measurements again and make sure, right after I'm through eating. We must be about ready to step up our deceleration."

He looked at his mother more intently, and his voice was so earnest it broke from baritone to a childish treble in places. "Mom, I'm not questioning your authority or anything, but you said yesterday that Jak was to be in charge until Pop wakes up. Now, Jak doesn't know anything at all about astrogation, and while I don't know it all, I do know more than he does, and I'll have to handle it. So what about me being in charge of the ship when we're in flight or on landings and take-offs, and Jak in charge other times? Though whatever you say goes, of course," he added hastily.

Somewhat to his surprise, his brother sided with him. The elder seemed to realize this was no time for one of their friendly squabbles about which was to be "top man"; that their very safety depended on the fact that whichever knew the most about any one thing should be the one to have the say about it.

Their mother looked from one to the other helplessly. "I ... I guess that will be all right. You two figure out things between you. You're all the men I have now until your father...." She almost broke into tears then, but pulled herself together. "Yes, you do whatever you think is best about such things."

"We'll handle it," Jak assured her. "But you'll still be boss in chief."

"You say 'when' and 'what,' and Jak and I'll figure out 'how.'" Jon grinned.

She stretched out her arms and grasped each by a hand. "My big boys! I'm sure we'll come through safely. You're getting to be real men." Then she changed her tone and asked, "You're going to land on one of those planets, then, as Mr. C. planned?"

"Being so close, it seems best," Jak answered. "How long we stay will depend on what we do or don't find there."

"Yes, we need a few days' rest on firm ground before we start back to Terra, at least. We want to freshen our air, if we can, and maybe get some fresh food. Besides, we ought to try to get all the necessary data to prove Pop's discovery, if the planets are uninhabited but worth colonizing."

"I agree," seconded Jak, "even if we have to land in some secluded spot and just rest."

"I'll leave it up to you, then." Their mother appeared more like her usual happy self than the boys had seen her since the accident. "I'll keep house like I always have, and you boys do whatever else you think best."

Jak laughed. "We'll be like those Musketeers in that old book I read some time ago. 'All for one and one for all.'" He held out his hand dramatically. "Put your hands on mine, and we'll all swear to it."

Laughing, they did as he suggested, although their mother pretended severity. "You know I don't like swearing, Boys."

Jak grinned. "But I meant this in the sense of 'taking an oath,' not of 'cussing.'"

"Oh," she krinkled her nose at him, grinning with her old-time impishness, "that's different."

Jon rose from the table. "I'll get back to my studying."

"You listen to your mother, and don't study too hard," she warned, knowing how he was apt to "lose himself" in his books. "You need plenty of rest for tomorrow."

"All right, Mom."

But when she went into the control room long after dinner, he was still deep in his reelbook. She took it away from him. "Get to bed, Jon. You promised."

"I'm sorry, Mom. Just got so interested I forgot time." He kissed her. "'Night, Mom. And don't worry. We'll make out swell."

"I'm sure of it." Her words were brave but he could see the tears were perilously close.

"You'd better ask Jak for some barbit, or you won't sleep any better than you did last night," he counseled. "Remember, he and I are going to take turns watching Pop."

"Thank you, Son. Good night."

He touched a switch and the glolights dimmed and went dark as he followed her out.

All the next morning Mrs. Carver and her two sons were in the control room—except for their frequent trips to Mr. Carver's bunk, to see how their patient was getting along. They were studying through the telescopic visiplates the solar system they were rapidly approaching. Jon had figured the sun was a Type G Dwarf, much like Sol, but a little larger. It had, they now knew, only five planets. Three of these—Two, Three and Four—had seven satellites among them. From their distances from the sun, the boys figured that probably Two and Three would have climates that human colonists, with some adaptation, could stand.

Now they were peering even more closely into their plates, as their ship circled the globe beneath them. Jon had maneuvered it into a spiral course about Planet Two, in such a manner that, from a height of about a hundred miles, they could get a good view of the world beneath them, in their telescopic plates.

"Lots of plant life, but I haven't seen anything that looks like cities," Jak said at last.

"Nor I," from their mother and, "Me neither," Jon added.

Their first measurements of this new planet had shown it to be almost the size of Terra, and they had been delighted to see that there was a moon of considerable size, although not as large as Luna. It was about one hundred and fifty thousand miles out.

"There's a number of large seas or oceans," Jak commented without taking his eyes from his visiplate. "Look at that plant life, though—it evidently coats the whole planet. From here it looks like jungle."

"Lots of lakes and rivers on it, and in those plains we saw." Jon was excited. "It sure looks like a wonderful world where men can live."

As they crisscrossed the planet from pole to pole, they saw small ice fields about each.

"That means there'll be varied seasons here," Jon stated.

"Not necessarily," Jak argued. "In fact, while possible, it's not even probable."

"Says you," Jon sniffed. Then later, "I figure the year here at about three hundred days. Just an approximation, of course, but probably within five per cent. I'm not too good at such things."

"You're probably wrong," Jak snorted, and their mother interrupted what she thought was the beginning of another of their interminable arguments.

"Are you going to land here, or go on to another planet first?" she asked Jon.

"I'm going low enough to test atmosphere and temperature before I decide," he told her.

"Well," resignedly, "do as you boys think best."

Jon manipulated his controls and as the ship tilted slightly, they could see in their plates the ground coming closer. Slowly, under the increased reaction of the powerful bow tubes, the ship slowed until it was cruising at about one thousand miles an hour and about a mile above the surface—or the tops of the vegetation, at least. Then Jon leveled it off.

"You know how to test atmosphere, Jak?" he asked. "The temp now is about 99.4 degrees Fahrenheit, so it probably isn't over 110 at ground level."

"Yes, Father taught me that." Jak moved over to the hull wall where there was an atmosphere-trap and the mechanism that tested and recorded the contents of any air they might encounter on a new planet. He worked this and studied the results.

This latest invention of Terran aeroscopic technies was simple to operate. A chart, already prepared to show the constituents of Earth's atmospheric limits compatible to human needs, was placed beneath a stylus. The latter drew a curve showing the components of the new air, and if the lines did not go above or below the red one on the prepared chart, the atmosphere was safe for human consumption.

"Carbon dioxide a little higher, and when I tested density with a spring balance the ten-pound weight showed nine and a half," Jak reported. "That means we'll feel a trifle lighter, and won't find walking and lifting as hard."

Their mother had been hovering nervously in the background. Now she stepped up and asked, "Are you sure it is safe here?"

"We will be before we go outside, Mother," Jak assured her, then turned to Jon. "Where are you going to land?"

"Soon as I find a good spot. Keep your eyes peeled for a large clearing."

But they had gone only a few more miles when Jak yelled, "There, Jon! Off to the left a mile or so."

At his first words Jon had increased the negative acceleration. His darting eyes spotted the clearing, and he put the ship into a circle and elevated the nose so they climbed to a height of some twenty miles.

"Grab that astrogation book and get ready to read me the checks, Owl. Mom, you strap in. Is Pop all right?"

Mrs. Carver assured him that on her recent trip to her husband's bunk she had seen to it that he was safely fastened down, in anticipation of their landing.

Jak picked up the book and opened it to the book-marked page. He sank into the co-pilot's seat, and fastened the safety belt. "Ready when you are."

Their mother now reported, "All fast, Jon."

A moment while the younger boy glanced quickly at his various dials, then he said tensely, "Shoot."

"Check decelerometer."

"On the hairline."

"Check outside air pressure."

"Seven four two."

"Terrain indicator."

"Level."

"Altimeter."

"Four thousand three hundred. Going down a hundred per second."

"Let her down."

Anxious seconds of jockeying, Jon's eyes flashing from indicator to gauge to telltale to screen, his hands and feet moving here and there on the controls.

The two others gasped as they saw the ground rushing toward them so swiftly. The ship landed—but with a jar that shook them all.

"Off bow retarders," Jak yelled.

The roar of the tubes ceased and they were almost stunned by the sudden silence.

"Down landing props."

The grind of a motor, then a gentle jar and the ship seemed to straighten a bit.

"Props down."

"Close fuel petcocks."

"Closed."

"Shut off fuel pump."

"Shut."

"All controls in neutral."

Jon's hands flashed over several levers, knobs and switches.

"Everything neutral." He turned in his seat then, and his face wore a wide grin of triumph. "We did it. We're down."

He noticed his mother's white, strained face, and called to her, "Relax, Mom. I set you down in one piece, just as I said I would."

Jak broke in with a scoffing comment—although his eyes showed the secret pride he felt in his younger brother's ability—"Lousy landing. What's the big idea, jolting us all like that? Want to bust up the ship?"

"Now, Boys," their mother hastened to break up this incipient quarrel before it had the chance to get started—which was exactly what Jak intended—"I think Jon did exceptionally well, considering it was his first solo landing. I'm not hurt at all, and I'm sure the ship isn't, either."

Jak pretended to look ashamed, although neither of the boys could completely hide their grins, and had to face away from her. "Yes, I was just steaming off. It was really a swell job, Chubby."

But Jon had already pushed out of his seat and was at one of the window-ports, peering eagerly outside. However, he did fling back over his shoulder, "You helped a lot, Owl. Couldn't have done it without you."

The other two came up quickly to stand beside him, staring at this strange, new world. The clearing in which the ship rested, they could see now, was about a hundred acres in extent. Near the ship the strange grass with which the clearing was carpeted was seared and black from their landing blasts, and burning in places. But toward the huge trees that walled the clearing, the grass was in its natural green state, covered with tiny, whitish blossoms.

The trees visible from the ship were mostly very tall, averaging well over three hundred feet, the Carvers estimated. They looked somewhat like Douglas firs, but with a difference the Terrans could not at the moment figure out.

The three could see no animal or bird life, but guessed this did not mean there was none. The jungle might be teeming with life, but it would probably have been frightened away for the time being by this strange, fire-breathing monster that had descended from the skies to land on their world.

"Think it's safe to go out?" Jak asked.

"Now you listen to your mother, and don't take any chances."

"We won't," Jon told her, then answered his brother. "We'll wait an hour and see what we can see from here, then decide."

"I sure want a closer look at that plant Life." Jak's eyes glistened, and he ran to get his binoculars to see better.

"I ought to examine the hull and tubes, too, to make sure they aren't fouled or corroded," Jon told his mother.

"It's nearly time for lunch." She turned away. "At least you must stay in until after that." It was plain she was still worried, and the boys tried to reassure her and quiet her fears.

When she called they reluctantly left their vantage points at the ports and went in to eat the lunch she had prepared. Several times she had to caution them against bolting their food, as they talked eagerly of what they might find here.

Finally finished, Jon rose. "Come on, Owl," he urged, "let's go outside and give it the once-over lightly."

"Better break out our rifles first," the elder advised. "No telling what we'll run into."

"If it's dangerous enough for guns, I wish you wouldn't go." Their mother was worried again.

"They're just a precaution, same as Father would take if he was in charge," Jak soothed. "We won't go out of this clearing this first time."

"You'd better give Mr. C. another feeding first, hadn't you?"

Jak consulted his wrist-chronom. "Yes, it's nearly time, and we might not be back by the regular hour."

The problem of keeping their father fed and in good health, apart from his head and leg injuries, had not proven too hard when they became convinced that he was not going to wake up often enough to eat normally.

Jak, while working as orderly in the Centropolitan Hospital the previous summer, had assisted the interns and nurses in giving intravenous feedings to unconscious patients. So he knew the general procedure, as well as the composition and quantity of the nutrient liquid to be administered.

"Will you come help me, Mother," he had asked when he was sure he was ready for that first feeding. "We've got to find certain things in our food stores."

"You're sure you know how to do it?"

"Yes, it's not hard. We need liquid proteins, salt, sugar and glucose." With his mother helping, he had gathered these from their stores, and taken them into the galley. There he had carefully measured out and mixed these ingredients in the proportions his books stated.

Then he and Jon had gone into the workshop and there the younger, under his brother's supervision, and with pictures of the apparatus as a guide, had rigged up a drip-regulator to go into the mouth of a large bottle. To this they had attached a long, slender, plastic tube, and to the far end of that a large, hollow feeding needle.

As the others watched anxiously, Jak had inserted the needle into the large vein on the inside of his father's left elbow. With his thumb Jak had softly rubbed the vein just above the needle's point, to assist the flow of the nutrient. Soon it was done. Mr. Carver had stirred and his eyelids had fluttered when the needle was inserted but he had not fully regained consciousness.

That first feeding so successfully accomplished, Mrs. Carver did not seem to worry quite so much about her husband, although she was careful to keep track of the feeding times, and to remind her sometimes forgetful son of his duty.

The feeding given this day, the boys consulted together.

"Shall we wear our spacesuits?" Jon asked.

"I don't see why. It's hot outside, but bearable, and the air's all right," Jak answered positively. "I not only tested it, but I breathed the sample I took in through the trap. It smells good, and hasn't hurt me any. We'll take our guns, and I want my magnifying glass and knapsack for specimens."

"And I'll put some multiform tools in my belt. Then, in case there's anything that needs doing on the tubes or hull, I can do it quickly."

The two brothers assembled their gear and Jon was just reaching for the button to open the inner door when they stopped short and shrank back.

For a terrific roar came from outside ... such a tremendous sound it penetrated even the hull of their ship!

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