The death crystal

by George O. Smith

"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?"