Marta seemed lost in deep reflection for a few moments. "I don't really know," she said as they reached the VIP quarters.
At Marta's door, Chandler asked, "Will you stand by me for another twenty-four hours? By that time, the drill will be cushioning to a stop exactly two thousand miles down."
"Unless we lose control," Marta said. "Then, in less than an hour, it could be smashing into the center of the core."
"Will you wait?"
For an answer she kissed him on the cheek, then said softly, "Now we better both get some rest. We start operations in less than six hours." She closed her door.
Chandler entered his room and stretched out on his cot without taking his clothes off. He thought about the plans he had ignored. Some of them might have done the job. He thought of Kotenko, who distrusted him, and Marta, who trusted him. Finally he drifted into sleep.
He dreamed of great cracks snaking their way down city streets, of violent earthquakes, foaming tidal waves, of people trapped in crumbling buildings and, finally, the Earth blooming into another sun.
And as the fireball expanded into oblivion, the shimmering face of the short man appeared. His mouth moved, but Paul sensed rather than heard his words.
"Chandler. Kotenko and the drill."
The face faded to nothing.