"No—" said DeLieb.
"I want to follow him," she said.
"Don't be a fool!" yelled Dave.
He ran to the crystal and slapped at it. It hurt. With a glad cry, Dave pried at it with his fingers. The clamping electrodes held it firm—and he could not touch them, for they were as thin and tenuous as the concrete wall through which he had walked. Only the crystal was solid both there and here.
Dave smiled sourly. If he was dead, then this was a fine psychological hell. Here he was watching friends and a loved one marching into deadly danger, listening to their grief and their dangerous plans, while he was completely helpless to guide them.
He felt the crystal move slightly under his straining fingers. Wrapping a handkerchief about his fist, Dave punched at the crystal. It gave—or on the other side, the clamping electrodes gave. At any rate, it was loose.
He hit it again and jarred it.
"The crystal!" cried Jane. "It's moving!"
"Blow-up!" yelled DeLieb.
But this time there was no panic. Howes cut the energizing power with a flick of his hands across the toggle switches. DeLieb clamped down on the electrodes with a hand and spun the wingnuts that held it with the other. Jane Nolan grabbed at the crystal as it came free and turned to the pneumatic delivery tube.