Corbow's Theory

It was a terrific theory and it would send Man to the stars. But the two men involved had to buck more than physical laws; and so the project was finished, over, done with. Unless....
All right! So we've got it. The same problem rocket designers have been struggling with for five years. Nobody's found the answer—and they never will!
Bronsen Corbow glared at the older man, his lips pressed tightly together to keep from giving voice to the anger mounting inside of him. Mars Kenton was an argumentative old fool, but the company had made him his assistant and nothing could be done about it.
They've known ever since they discovered that interstellar drive, Mars continued, that they can only make enough Carbolium to send four ships a year to the end of our galaxy and back again. Is it our fault they have to make the blasted stuff instead of mining it out of the ground?
The words ringing in the quiet of the laboratory seemed to pound in Bronsen's ears and he found he could hold his tongue no longer. He leaned toward the older physicist and slammed his hand down on the table.
That's enough, Mars. I happen to be the one in charge here, not you. His quiet voice made clear the anger he felt. Reed turned the problem over to us. I say we can lick it. Just because my chief assistant is still thinking in terms of ancient history, it's no reason to send back a report from this laboratory saying we can't handle the problem. He ran a trembling hand through his close-cropped hair and swore at himself when he saw Mars noticed the trembling. Why did he have to start shaking every time he got mad? The person he was mad at invariably took the shaking to be fear, and he would always be forced to drive his point home all the harder in order to get the respect he demanded.
Mars Kenton sneered. Mind telling me just how you are going to eliminate interstellar drive from our rocket ships? Or have you cooked up another of your bright ideas to try out at the company's expense?