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fusion: the commercial application of the same physics as the sun and the hydrogen bomb. It had been the dream of scientists, engineers, and researchers for six decades. The little man had leaned forward. “But I need help, Jack. You are my only hope!”
    Sally Littleton caught Jack’s eye, releasing him from his reflections. Her eyebrows were raised. She was ready to complete the final test. Jack nodded and his lead
Prometheus
engineer began to call out the next steps.
    â€œIf it fails...” Perlman worried.
    â€œIt’s not going to fail.”
    â€œThere’s so little time.”
    â€œThere’s plenty of time. Everything I read says the Senate won’t pass WET until July. That’s six months away. When we finish tonight, we’ll disassemble
Prometheus,
ship him off to Shiharakota. The Indians have already mounted our dog engine to their
Shiva
launcher. Once this payload is stacked, we launch. We’ll have your dirt back to you in three weeks.”
    â€œIt isn’t dirt,” Perlman grunted, ever sensitive. He could call it that but he didn’t like anybody else doing it.
    Jack nodded. “Fire beads, then.”
    â€œAnd it’s not quite true that I will have it three weeks after launch.” Perlman clucked. “It’ll still be on a ship.”
    Jack had explained it to the physicist a half-dozen times. “We could speed things up if we had the freighter dock in Hawaii, lease a jet there. Probably save you a week.”
    â€œI’ll ask my benefactors,” Perlman said doubtfully.
    Jack shrugged. It was ever thus, even with a group of heavy-hitting investors like the January Group. Jack assumed at least one of the members of the organization was a bean counter, worrying about spending thousands when they’d already spent millions—hundreds of millions, in fact—to build Perlman’s pilot fusion plant in Montana. “Penny wise and pound foolish, eh, Doc?” Jack gently gibed.
    â€œThe men and women of the January Group are cautious with their money in their own audacious way,” Perlman answered stiffly. “Thank the good Lord for them or I’d not be as far as I am. You wouldn’t either.”
    â€œDo you even know who they are, Isaac? I know you work through their attorney.”
    â€œI do not,” he said primly. “It is none of my business. But I’ve been told they are the movers and shakers in this country.”
    Jack looked Perlman over. “You haven’t told them about me, have you?”
    â€œYou asked me not to.”
    â€œYou didn’t answer my question.”
    Perlman changed the subject, not fooling Jack for a moment. “I still can’t believe WET will make fusion energy a crime. It will all be done in the name of the children, of course—what reckless activity in the last decade hasn’t? And what is the world going to do for energy? Keep burning fossil fuel! Oil and coal, Jack! Can you imagine the pollution? The degradation to the environment? My technology is clean, cheap, and limitless!”
    Sally gave Jack a thumbs-up on the sensor readings, and also a pert smile. She was a handsome woman, that Sally. Perlman was still rattling on, extolling the advantages of his technology. “Doc, everybody’s going to see that,” Jack interrupted. “We’ve still got time. You’ll get your dirt—fire beads—in a month or so and you’ll be able to fire up your plant, show it to the media, demonstrate how safe it is too. After that I guarantee you they’ll make an exception in WET for fusion.”
    Perlman shook his head. “I don’t want that damned treaty modified. I want it killed. If we approve it, we might as well pack it in. In fifty years, maybe less, this tired old polluted planet is going to go dark.”
    â€œWe’re doing the best we can, Doc.”
    Perlman was into it. He stabbed his index finger at the