Jon directed the ship toward the range of mountains and when he neared them Jak--from his co-pilot's seat--worked the remote controls and the outer lockdoor swung open. Then he activated the "distant hands"--the handling mechanism that was an integral part of the airlock's equipment, for handling materials into and out of the ship. Watching through his special visiplate--really a sort of two-way television--Jak made the grips pick up the signal-sender box, ready to deposit it on the hard, hot ground outside when Jon would swoop down over the pre-selected mountaintop. "Move it outside," Jon called, and Jak did so. "Set it down." Jon yelled, and as soon as he was sure Jak had placed the sender solidly, sent the space-yacht rising higher and away from the planet. Then Jak closed the outer door; turned in his co-pilot's seat, and tuned in their receiver. Soon they caught the message and knew everything was jetting fair. "Nice going, Owl," Jon applauded. "Aw, you're just saying that because it's true," Jak grunted, and Jon turned his attention once more to his controls and the new course he had plotted for their swing around the sun of this system, now less than thirty million miles away. "How close d'you go?" Jak was more interested than fearful, having confidence in his brother's skill. "We have to follow a course so that when the sender is dumped, it will take up a closed orbit--the more nearly circular the better--around the sun. Also, we'll have to have speed enough so we won't get fried to a crisp at the near-point, which figures to be about ten million miles." "Isn't that pretty close?" their mother, who had slipped into the control room quietly just after Jak had placed the sender, tried not to sound too frightened. "Relax, Mother, the kid knows what he's doing," Jak tried to calm her. "I've figured this three times, Mom," Jon said earnestly. "Got the same answer each time, so I _know_ we can do it." "Well," still doubtfully, "I guess you do know what you are doing, but that seems awfully close." She struggled with herself and finally managed a weak smile. "I promised to let you boys make the decisions. I'll go lie down in my bunk so I won't know what's happening until it's all over." "You do that, Mother. I'm not worrying. Jon really knows his stuff," Jak assured her brightly. But as soon as she had left the control room, he turned worried eyes to his brother. "I ... I hope you actually do, Chubby." His voice quavered a bit. Jon grinned mockingly. "There's one sure thing. If I'm wrong, we'll never know it. But I've studied this a lot since I knew it was up to me. I know the technique and, as I said before, I've computed our course three times and come up with the same figures each time. And we have to set it as close as possible. Now, either hit your bunk or set your seat to recline. We're up to better than two G's already, and I'm building to five."