Wanderers of Time

by John Wyndham

  The moment it was complete, he jumped to the ground and ran forward to where Jessica’s inert form rested in the grip of the feelers. He was thankful that she had been unconscious throughout the rescue. It was the work of a few seconds to strip off the clinging remnants of her captor’s tentacles and lift her up to Julian, who had taken his place at the panel opening. Swinging himself hurriedly aboard, he called to Ril for full speed. There was no telling how long the fused wall would hold.

  The remaining length of passage was covered without incident, or even sight of other machines, but they emerged in the main traffic artery to find a different state of affairs. They had last seen it almost empty; now, it was crowded. A number of mechanisms rushed at them with antagonistic intent, and were promptly rayed before they reached a dangerous distance. Following them were others; but by no means all the machines in sight were concerned in the attack. The majority continued peacefully to go about their appointed tasks. Either the alarm had not been intended for all, or else it had been cut short before it became general. Whatever the cause, the rest was a great jostling and tangling of machines at cross-purposes. The attackers were obstructed and hindered at every turn by the instinctive way in which the others pursued their routine work.

  Ril, quick to perceive their advantage in the turmoil of the two inflexible orders, steered to one side and jostled into the stream of outgoing vehicles. The whole procession moved at a steady, uniform speed, and they were swept along with it. The attackers, unable to alter the instinctive march, were left with

  no course but to follow in their wake at such points as they could contrive to wedge themselves into the moving queue. Roy looked round over the moving ranks and realised that they were safe, barring accidents, until the open should be reached.

  Within the metal shell, Julian was doing his best to restore Jessica to consciousness, and looking with anger at the great weals imprinted on her arms and legs. When her abductor was caught, it had evidently closed its grip the more firmly in a determination not to lose its prey, and she had fainted from the constriction. At last her eyes opened, and she looked up at him. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, attempting to move her stiffened limbs. He explained.

  ‘And Roy?’

  At the sound of her voice, Roy withdrew from his observation post and walked forward, in the crouched attitude that the cramped quarters demanded. He took one of her hands in both of his, and gazed down into her smiling face.

  ‘Thank God you’re safe, Jessica. Until that thing snatched you away, I didn’t realise-’

  Jessica’s eyes were starry. ‘You didn’t realise what, Roy?’

  ‘I didn’t realise how much I___’

  ‘Heat-rays ready! ’ interrupted Ril. ‘We’re nearly out.’

  ‘Oh, damn! ’ muttered Roy, as he sprang back to his station.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE ESCAPE TO THE PAST

  In the open, Ril gave the machine full power and sent it tearing away from the main body. Presently, the pursuers also drew clear and came scudding in swift chase. Roy picked off the leaders with sharp blasts of heat, but every second more and more of the machines pouring out of the mountain entrance were joining the hunting pack. It became no longer a straggling pursuit, but a solid block of shining mechanisms bearing down. Had the way ahead been clear, possibly they could have held their own in the matter of speed, but once in the forest, the superior control and familiarity of the insects with their own machines began to tell. Roy, with a ray tube in each hand, thanked Providence that no ballistic weapons were known to the ants; he had his work cut out to pick off the advancing units.

  ‘Ahead! ’ cried Ril, and Roy whipped round, to see a line of machines drawn across their path. A quick switch of the ray served to clear the way, but it also sent a patch of trees bursting into flame. Ril held on, and plunged them through the gauntlet of fire.

  Something fell across Roy’s shoulders and half wrenched him from his perch. He turned to find an insect-machine racing alongside; it had pursued a parallel course behind masking trees, and seized his momentary diversion of attention to cut in on him. He crooked one arm beneath the metaI casing-edge, in an effort to resist the pull, but slowly he felt his muscles giving in beneath the relentless tugging. Desperately he wriggled the other arm, in an attempt to bring the ray to bear. He was thankful that it had not occurred to the insects to snatch at the fast-moving legs of the stolen machine…..

  The pull of the tentacle grew stronger, and he called loudly to the others. He felt a pair of arms clutch his legs. He ached painfully, as the machine tightened its grip. Fingers grasped the ray tube from the arm he had crooked below, and Jessica thrust herself up beside him with the tube in her hand. Quick as thought, the whole bunch of tentacles were shorn from their roots. Then, turning it downward, she fused the front legs. The fore end dropped suddenly, and the attacker pitched back over front in a final, shattering somersault.

  Roy disentangled himself from the wrapping feeler and, side by side with Jessica, went to work at clearing away the nearest of the pursuers. The rays flashed in a furious semi-circle, but the encroaching machines were constantly supplemented; it seemed that they must shortly be overcome by sheer, clogging weight of numbers.

  ‘Hold tight, there! We’ve got to risk this,’ called Ril fror below. Roy glanced ahead, and saw that they had again reached the river—unfortunately, not at the same shallow spot as they had crossed before. This time, a steep bank must be descended and deeper water negotiated. It would be chancing too much to turn along the bank, for they had no means of telling how far their pursuers were spread out to either side.

  The machine slithered down the bank and waded out. The water rose above the leg-sockets, but it did not flow through the universal joints. It rose further—to within inches of the observation holes; then, thankfully, they felt the floor lift up as the stream-bed rose. On the farther bank, Roy called Ril to halt. The machines had not followed them. They had collected in a line, hesitant and unwilling to risk a wetting. It seemed the fugitives were safe. Then, just as Roy drew a breath of relief, one machine, more intrepid than the rest, came sliding down. Instantly he rayed it; and a burst of steam arose from the water around.

  But the necessary lead had been given. A second later, half a dozen or more were slithering into the water. With no compunction, he played his ray upon them. He hoped by example to stop them from making a mass attack, for it would be impossible to check all the hundreds which now lined the bank. But as he vaporised the last of the waders, an interruption occurred. Something came swinging above their heads and landed with a crash on the opposite bank. ‘The red stalkers!’ cried Jessica. ‘They’re attacking them. Quickly, Ril, get into the trees! They haven’t seen us yet.’

  They scuttered from the danger zone. Under cover of the branches, they stopped and looked back. Indescribable confusion was raging among the machines, and at first it was difficult to see the reason. But as they watched, a net of glittering red metal came sailing through the air and fell upon the white machines. Evidently the red stalkers used rocks only against isolated enemies; when they really went into action, they had other weapons. One net followed another, and with every move they made, the white machines became more hopelessly entangled. From being a collection of perfectly controlled units, they soon changed into no more than a writhing mass of a myriad glittering parts, surging frantically this way and that, enmeshing themselves the more as they struggled to escape.

  Roy caught a glimpse of the first red biped striding forward, metal nets swinging from its jointed arms.

  ‘Time for us to go,’ he said.

  Ril threw in the switch, and they scurried away into the green obscurity of the forest.

  An unexpected sight greeted them at the cliffs. Del’s time-traveller, constructed for safety within the cave, had been brought out and lowered to the ground. The other five members of the party were clustered round it, apparently in conference over some knotty point. One of the Numen let out a
cry, as they broke from the trees. Jim Hollis swung round with ready weapon. Roy hailed him loudly, and the other’s face woke into a grin. A moment later, the machine came to a halt in the middle of a congratulatory group. The greetings over, Roy asked:

  Why have you brought the traveller down here? Either an ant-machine or a red stalker may come along any minute. One stone landing on that would ruin all your work.’

  Del explained. It was necessary that the traveller be somehow conveyed to the cliff-top. A break, less than a mile away, offered ample possibility for men to climb, but the problem raising the machine appeared hard to solve.

  ‘But why lift it at all? Why not work it here?’

  ‘Look at the cliffs,’ said Del.

  ‘Well, what about them?’

  ‘They’ve been caused by some earth-fault, and are recent. If we were to work the machine here, we would probably finish in the part of the cliff now fallen away—the result of that, I leave to your imagination.’

  Roy looked thoughtful. ‘I hadn’t thought of that danger he admitted.

  ‘Nor did many others—or else they risked it, as we did. Many travellers must have been built in the past. I wonder how many of their unfortunate occupants reached this year at the bottom of new seas, entombed in mountains or even high above ground-level. It is nothing less than miraculous that a few survived.’Roy gazed dubiously at the cage-work in which all their hopes were centred. His expression cleared; turning to Ril, he asked:

  ‘Couldn’t the machine carry it?’;

  Ril was doubtful. Since the traveller had to contain the whole party, it was far heavier and larger than its forerunners.

  ‘We can try,’ he said, with little conviction. Edging the captured ant-machine close, he wound the four tentacles firmly around the traveller, and carefully drew back the lift lever. The burden lurched slightly, but it did not rise; instead the white machine tilted forward, its back legs in the air. ‘Too heavy in the bows,’ Jim Hollis remarked. ‘Let’s see,if we can bring her stern down.’

  The combined weights of himself, Roy and the two Numen perched at the extreme rear, served effectively to change the balance. The traveller was lifted clear of the ground. Very cautiously and slowly, Ril set the legs in motion, and the machine, with its load, moved unsteadily forward.

  Progress to the break in the line of cliffs was slow, but slower still was the tedious climb to the top. Again and again it was necessary to assist the slipping legs of the machine, and to give purchase to scrambling metal claws. Nevertheless, their admiration for the adaptability of the machine rose as it overcame successive obstacles, forging patiently and relentlessly up the rough way. All nine of the castaways became increasingly jubilant as the top was neared, even the two Numen being caught up in the prevailing high spirits, and wearing grins of pleasure.

  As they scrambled at last over the skyline, Roy looked back in triumph at the way they had come. But the sight which met him sent the joy from his face. He called out, and pointed below. Ant-machines were scuttling from the trees in a silver stream, racing for the gap.

  A few yards more, and they were upon level ground where the traveller could be set down. Assured of its safety, Roy and Jim leaped down and ran back to the brink to meet the attack. Already the leaders were half-way up the rough scramble, before a fanning of rays sent them tumbling back on their fellows. Unencumbered as they were, they could climb with astonishing agility; and, as ever, they seemed careless of their casualties. Once the first rush was checked, it became an easy matter for the two men to hold them back. Jim Hollis made a grimace of distaste.

  ‘How long do we keep this up?’ he asked. ‘It’s nothing but a slaughter, even if they are only insects.’

  Roy glanced back over his shoulder. He could see that Del was already in the traveller, intently setting his controls.

  ‘Not long, now. Just until Del gets it all fixed,’ he returned.

  An alarmed cry broke from Jessica. She was pointing along the cliff-edge, where five red stalkers were advancing with deliberate strides. Roy gasped, for he could see that their jointed arms held nets, ready for use. He heard Ril call to him, and saw that the dwarf was manoeuvring the captured ant-craft to face the new danger.

  ‘Your ray tube! ’ Ril cried, as Roy joined him. ‘Hold it up in front! ’

  Wonderingly, he obeyed. Ril wrapped a tentacle about the tube and set the appendage swaying slowly from left to right. A red metal net came flying towards them. It fell only a few yards short. Ril flicked over the lever which would set the machine marching towards the red stalkers. Then he jumped clear. Roy caught him as he fell, and together they ran for the time traveller.

  The entrance snapped to, and through the trellised sides of the cage, Roy took his last sight of the fantastic world. In front, a swarm of silver machines had reached the cliff-top and was pouring over the edge. Away to the right marched their capture, mechanically raying at the red giants. One had already fallen, to go hurtling below, but even as the leg was shorn from another, a metal net settled about the lone attacker.

  A glimpse he had of another red net, sailing through the air towards themselves. Then Del pushed over the switch…..

  Roy and Jessica stood in the darkness. Beside them was the traveller. Of the original nine, it now contained only two. Ril and Kal had been returned to the year 10,424, and with them had stayed the two Numen. Julian had regained his world of 3920, and now they rested at 2200.

  ‘You’re determined not to stay?’ Roy asked Jim Hollis.

  ‘I am. Twentieth century is where I belong, even if it is a bit over-civilised for me. Say,’ he added, ‘I wonder what they’re goin’ to say back there, when I spin ’em this yarn?’

  ‘They won’t believe you.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I’ll try it.’

  The final farewells were exchanged. The entrance closed and Del set off to deliver his last passenger before he returned to his own future age. Before the eyes of the two, the cage blurred and then, suddenly, was not. A green streak cut the sky.

  ‘That means we’re home.’ said Jessica. ‘It was the Asia bound rocket.’

  ‘Home,’ Roy echoed.‘

  ‘And we’ll never leave it again?’’’

  ‘Never again! ’ Roy meant the words as he said them. But somewhere at the back of his mind was a hankering, and the hankering would grow…. What civilisation, for instance, had preceded the ants? What manner of creatures drove the red stalkers? And, above all, what had happened to mankind?

  DERELICT OF SPACE

  INTRODUCTION

  Even those too young to remember the Belford affair can scarcely fail to have heard of it, if only through the legend of Captain Belford’s treasure hidden somewhere on the Moon. There can be few boys who have not read how Belford and a companion overpowered their police guard in the car that was taking them to prison nearly 60 years ago. And how, dressed in the uniforms of their captors, they bluffed the authorities at an airport and stole a racing rocket-ship from under the official noses.

  Everyone who has heard the tale must have wondered what happened to the two who vanished from human knowledge in that ship, as well as about the treasure said to be on the Moon. Now comes Captain Fearon’s explanation. It was he who was the other man in that exploit. For reasons which will be obvious, he withheld publication until after his death, though the account which follows was dictated by him to our representative some six years ago. We have checked much of the story and are fully satisfied that Captain Fearon was actually that same Fearon associated with Captain Belford.

  The account which follows was signed and sworn by him, and the original is still in our possession.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ON PASSAGE TO JUPITER

  It all happened a long time ago. I’m eighty-three now: I was twenty-five then. But, although a lot of things get forgotten, Belford and I seem to have been remembered—though the funny thing is that we’re remembered all wrong.

  Its queer to live and hear yourse
lf grow into a legend, getting a bit different and a bit more untrue all the time. And I’ve got a mind to clear things up a bit before I die. If only it stops people going to the Moon and making fools of themselves over the ‘Belford Treasure’ it’ll be something.

  The world was different when I first went to space—mind you, I’m not saying it was better or worse but, looking back, it seems to have been a whole lot simpler.

  I was twenty-four when I got a berth as Second Officer under Captain Belford on the old Dido. And right now I’ll tell you there wasn’t a better man sailing the system; whatever they said about him afterwards. They didn’t know him, most of ’em; I did. And when you’ve been a year in a spaceship with a man there’s not much you don’t know about him. What happened to him was just a bit of bad luck, such as might have happened to any man on the same job.

  He was a big man, such as you don’t often find in spaceships; well over six foot, big shouldered, strong as a couple of the rest of us; but he was worth his extra weight, every ounce of it, and in spite of it he could move as fast and sure as a cat. He’d a record as clean as a baby’s. If he hadn’t he’d not have been there because it cost the Company a pretty penny getting space-suits and suchlike specially made for him.

  The Company was the R.R.R.; gone long ago now but in those days it meant something—Red Ribbon Rocketlines and the Dido was a queer old tub that wouldn’t even get a spaceworthiness certificate nowadays. She wasn’t on the regular lines, never had been. She was built as a salvage ship, and handy for the job she was. In those days nearly all the regular rocket lines ran salvage ships. It was a profitable sideline, not only for getting your own ships out of trouble, but because there were plenty of wrecks drifting about. Ships weren’t safe the way they are now. All manner of things could happen to them and, apart from the danger to liners, it wasn’t sense to leave valuable ships and cargoes hanging around out there, if there was any way of getting them back.