Read Ebook: The death crystal by Smith George O George Oliver Calle Paul Illustrator

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Ebook has 2198 lines and 99466 words, and 44 pages

"So do a lot of things," said Claverly. "Go on."

"I'm out of my depth here," said Dave. "But I've read of the so-called human aura. The sort of thing that gives certain gardeners a 'green thumb' and makes other men capable of curing a headache by merely rubbing the head with the fingertips. Is this sort of thing merely superstition or has it any basis in fact?"

Claverly frowned. "We don't like to answer such questions," he said. "But I'm being honest with you, Dave. The reason we don't like to answer is that we are not too certain. The best answer is maybe, and who knows?"

"So the crystal sat here and took all sorts of radiation, treatment, investigation, and the like. Then when the group of us assemble, blooey!"

Claverly looked at Dave. "What do you suggest?"

"I suggest that the crystal be worked on by one person at a time. Perhaps there's a critical mass of life-force--?"

"Sounds fantastic. You'll keep this out of your paper, Dave?"

"You bet--until we prove it. I don't want to sound any crazier than I am." He looked around. "I'm going to file a yarn on the explosion," he said. "Where's a typewriter and a telephone?"

Claverly said, "Jane, you show him. The rest of us will mix another batch and make us a new crystal. Then--" He left it unfinished.

Jane Nolan nodded. "Come on, Dave."

She led him to one of the jeeps that the laboratory crew used, and they started back towards the main collection of buildings.

"Dave, I like you."

Dave blinked. She laughed. "Does my directness bother you?"

"Not exactly. But--"

"It's caused me a lot of grief in the past; it's one of the reasons why I've never been a howling social success. However, saying and doing what I think makes a fine physicist out of me."

"That I believe," said Dave. The jeep drew up to one of the buildings. "Now," he said, "where's that typer?"

"In the office. Or better, we have a few empties; maybe you'd like to use one until you go back to Chicago?"

"That would be good," he told her. "I'm going to stay right here until you folks get this problem solved--or go up taking Merion Laboratory with you. Maybe," he said cheerfully, "I'll be able to use your typer to write the description of that, but it's unlikely."

Jane faced him as he climbed out of the jeep. "We've got a job to do. I know it sounds like a chunk of lousy script, but the bunch of us are devoted to the job of increasing human knowledge. So we're ready to accept the danger. But there's no reason why you should risk your hide. You can write from here and be safe."

"I wouldn't miss the fun for anything," he said. "When will the new crystal be ready?"

"Tomorrow morning."

Jane climbed out after him. "I'll arrange for that office," she said. "Come on."

From the window of his office Dave Crandall watched Jane drive off in her jeep. Then he turned to the desk and put through a long-distance telephone call.

"Meteridge speaking."

"Dave Crandall, doc."

"Yes, David. How're things going?"

"About the same."

"Fine. Keep the chin up."

"Doc--there's nothing can be done?"

"Five years ago we could have--"

"I couldn't see it."

Meteridge swore. "And now, like everybody else, you've changed your mind too late?"

"No, doc. I haven't changed my mind. I just wish it had been different."

"So do we all. But five years ago--"

"I know. I know. Five years ago you could have given me twenty years more, but it meant staying on my backside for the whole route. I took six years of active life in favor of twenty years as a total loss. I'd do it again."

"I suppose you would. So would I, to tell you the truth."

Dave chuckled. "So I just called to tell you the usual. I'm okay and feeling no pain."

"Good. Keep me informed. And when you start feeling the pangs, let me know. We can give you some relief."

They hung up and Dave, deliberately putting the thought out of his mind, went to work on his news story. It was the sort of thing that a stable man does not dwell upon; within him, burning at his vitals, was a fission fragment. Dispersed, it was. Too widespread for a single removal; years and years of almost continuous operations and convalescence would remove the danger, but it would leave Crandall abed most of his active life.

He--and Doctor Meteridge--knew that he had been no hero when he stayed behind with the crystal. At the worst it had meant an instant death; at the best, saving the lives of other people. What could Dave lose?

Nothing but a forfeited life.

The Crystal Phantoms

"Now," said Claverly, peering through the television hookup that brought him an image of the crystal, "we are ready." His voice came over the speaker tinnily.

"It's been checked?"

"Definitely. We're all ready."

The scene on the television screen switched abruptly to Claverly, who opened the end of the tube and removed the crystal. He held it up for them to see.

"So here we are," said Claverly. "The crystal and myself, removed from the critical mass of human radiation--if that means anything. Watch me closely. I am going to test this crystal for power output."

Claverly turned aside and clamped the crystal in a holder. He turned away, then, and--

There was a flash that filled the telescreen. It did not blind the onlookers, for the total output of the projection system would not furnish so much light. But the flash at the transmitting end paralyzed the orthicon, and once the phosphor of the receiving tube ceased to glow, the screen went dark. The orthicon at the far end of the line was no longer working. There was no roar of sound from the speaker. Just an electric crackle, and then the hiss of the live circuit.

"Gone!" said DeLieb explosively.

Phelps turned from the mounted telescope and said, "I saw a flicker from the windows, but the building is still there."

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