"I've requested a special meeting of the World Council together with the committee to clear the way for using the X-factor." "I'll oppose it. Since I am in full charge of constructing the drill, my words will bear some weight." "I doubt if you will object," Chandler said. "I've just received a report from the State Department. They have good reason to believe that your government will back the release of one capsule." Kotenko stared at Chandler. Finally he rotated his cigar in his fingers and studied the burning end. "Then I'll resign." "No, you won't. Your government wouldn't permit it." He smiled at the Russian. "And neither would I. You're too valuable a man." Kotenko was still studying his cigar as Chandler left. * * * * * The X-factor capsule arrived under an international guard with the blessings of slightly over half of the member nations. Kotenko didn't resign, but his friendliness vanished. That same day, Marta broke in on Chandler and, to the consternation of his secretary, hugged him. "We've done it!" she cried. "Here, here, take it easy." He held her at arm's length. "All right, what have we done?" "Remember the things you said to me about slowing down the molecular activity of metals?" Chandler nodded. "Well," she continued, "we've just had a major breakthrough in the metallurgical lab, once you showed us the way. We can practically remove all of the heat conductivity. In less than a month we can start manufacture of the conduits." Chandler smiled. The last obstacle was over. "And more than that," Marta said, "we can build a test drill that will go down into one of the big moons--one with a molten core." "The next drill," said Chandler, "will be the _real_ thing to tap the core of the Earth." Marta kissed him. The drill took less than the projected year to build. On the grassy Michigan meadow, as several hundred dignitaries, reporters and curious spectators in wind-whipped overcoats were held in check by armed troops, the giant device was lowered toward a concrete basin. Sizzling arc lights mounted on the control ring, a circular concrete building surrounding the basin, illuminated the scene against the growing darkness of night. The Soviet press was lauding the drill as a Russian achievement. Most Western papers gave the credit to Dr. Paul Chandler. But Chandler knew it was Kotenko's idea, made possible by his own mental resources, surprising even to himself. Chandler felt a deep pride as he gazed at the drill, complete with the controversial capsule. * * * * * "Excuse me, Dr. Chandler." A reporter with dry, unkempt hair stepped up. "I still don't see how that thing will work."