In the morning much of the soreness and discoloration was gone, and there was no sign of inflammation or pus. After Jak had again tended to the abrasions and friction sores, the two boys dressed and went in to breakfast. Their mother was in good spirits. "Mr. C.'s breathing seems much easier than it was," she announced with delight. They all went in to see him, and while Jak was redressing the now almost healed head wound, Jon looked on happily. "Won't be long now." He hugged his mother joyfully. "I hope not," she sighed. "He does seem to be getting better, though." "We're lucky we still have him, Mother." Jak's voice was serious. "If that rock had even touched him, it would have been the end. His leg looks OK--no signs of swelling or inflammation." Breakfast was quiet, and as soon as they finished Jon rose purposefully. "I'll take us up now, and we'll cruise around and see what we can see. Have to take lots of recordings and pictures, you know." "Are you sure you understand all that has to be done?" His mother's voice was anxious. "Sure, Mom. It tells all about it on the papers the Colonial Board furnished. All we have to do is follow their instructions. You coming, Jak?" "Right with you." His brother hastily drank the rest of his coffee and rose, wiping his mouth. "Be sure you strap down at the signal, Mother, if you aren't coming with us." She flashed him a smile. "I will. Meanwhile, I'll clear the table--if I have time?" She looked questioningly at Jon. "Sure, it'll take ten--fifteen minutes to get ready, and I'll give you a couple of one-minute warnings." When all was ready, Jak strapped himself down in the co-pilot's seat, the book of instructions in his hand. Jon touched the stud of the buzzer, waited a full minute then punched two buzzes. Then he nodded at his brother. "Close fuel dump valves," Jak said, referring to the manual. "Valves closed." "Switch on fuel pumps." "Pumps on." "Switch on generators." "Gens on." "Open all oil valves." "Oil open." "Check heaters." "Heaters on." "Check refrigerators." "Frigs on." "Fire tube one and balance." Jon snapped a switch. A dull rumbling began and the ship seemed to strain as the first tube started functioning, although at minimum strength. He carefully watched a dial to see that it was working smoothly. Finally, "Tube one firing." In like manner tubes four, two and then three were started and tested, and finally reported firing evenly. The ship seemed more than ever straining, as though anxious to get into the air and into free space--but remained on the ground. "Up landing props." Jon touched another stud, and they could feel the motor lifting the landing props into their slots in the hull. "Take off." The roar deepened as Jon increased the amounts of fuel being fed into the tubes. The ship lifted effortlessly, easily, into the air. "Check acceleration pressure." "Normal to speed." "Check altimeter." "One thousand seven hundred." "Level off."