"I don't know," was Chandler's honest answer. "Call it a hunch or a premonition, but I think it's the drill or nothing. Once the core is tapped, the danger is over; we won't have to drill any more holes. We'll have an unending source of heat, and non-conductive conduits to pump it anywhere on Earth."
"Paul," Marta said, "I've always gone along with you on just about everything. Maybe the fact that I'm a woman has been outweighing the fact that I'm also a scientist. But let's talk now about the moral obligation of a scientist."
"I'm interested in one thing—the best method to save civilization from certain destruction."
"But have you the right to gamble like this? Which is worse, the destruction of civilization or the destruction of the Earth?"
"Marta," he said, "man at last stands at the brink of fulfilling his destiny. He is already establishing colonies on two planets and within a hundred years will have a firm foothold in the Solar System. In the millennia that follow, the Galaxy will be his."
Marta stopped in horror. "That sounds like Colonial talk!"
Chandler smiled reassuringly. "In this case, what's best for the Colonies is also best for the Mother Planet."
"But surely there's time to halt operations long enough to try some of the other methods first."
"If we were to falter now," said Chandler as they began walking again, "politicians would have most of us replaced inside of twenty-four hours. Would you like to see that drill start its plunge to the core without someone on hand who knows how to handle it?"
"No, I wouldn't," Marta said. "I'm not sure I want to see it start at all." She touched his arm. "Paul, this is a side of you I've tried hard not to see. You're—you're almost obsessed with the belief that the drill is the only answer. And you're battling ruthlessly against counter-ideas and time. After all, even the most radical estimates give us at least two more centuries. Granted there'll be a southern migration, but—"