The Space Machine

by Christopher Priest

  Only one memory remains clear and undimmed, and that is of a piece of wreckage that happened to lie directly within my view. I did not notice it at first, so wild and blinding were my thoughts, but later it seemed to occupy the whole of my vision. Lying in the centre of the tangle of broken metal was the body of one of the noisome monster-creatures. It had been crushed in the explosion that had wrecked the vehicle, and the part of it I could see revealed an ugly mass of contusions and blood. I could also see two or three of its tentacles, curled in death.

  In spite of my mute loathing and revulsion, I was satisfied to realize that beings so powerful and ruthless were themselves mortal.

  At length I felt the first sensations returning to my body; I felt them first in my fingers, and then in my toes. Later, my arms and legs began to hurt, and I knew that control over my muscles was being restored. I tried moving my head, and although I was taken with dizziness I found I could raise it from the ground.

  As soon as I could move my arm, I placed my hand against my neck and explored the extent of my throat-wound. I could feel a long and ugly cut, but the blood had stopped flowing and I knew the wound must be superficial, otherwise I should have died within seconds.

  After several minutes of trying I managed to lift myself into a sitting position, and then at last I found I could stand. Painfully, I looked about me.

  I was the only living thing in that street. On the ground about me were several Martians; I did not examine them all, but those I did were certainly dead. Across by the other side of the street was the damaged vehicle, and its hateful occupant. And a few yards from where I stood, poignantly abandoned, was Amelia’s hand-bag.

  I walked over to it with heavy heart, and picked it up. I glanced inside, feeling as if I were invading her privacy, but the bag contained the only material possessions we had had, and it was important to know if they were still there. Nothing appeared to have been moved, and I closed the bag quickly. There were too many things inside it that reminded me of Amelia.

  The body of the monster-creature was still dominating my thoughts, in spite of my dread and loathing. Almost against my own will I walked across to the wreck, carrying Amelia’s bag in my hand.

  I stopped a few feet away from the hideous corpse, fascinated by the grisly sight.

  I stepped back, not having learnt anything, but still there was something uncannily familiar about it that detained me. I diverted my attention from the dead being to the wreck that contained it. I had assumed that the vehicle had been one of those that had invaded the city. But then, looking anew, I remembered the policing-vehicle that had been blasted in the explosion, and realized that this must be it!

  With that sudden awareness, the awful implications of the anonymous and faceless drivers of those city vehicles came to me…and I stepped back from the wreck in horror and amazement, more frightened than I had ever been in my life.

  ii

  A few minutes later, as I walked in a dazed fashion through the streets, a vehicle suddenly appeared in front of me. The driver must have seen me, for the vehicle halted at once. I saw that it was one of the city haulage-vehicles, and that standing in the back were between twenty and thirty Martian humans.

  I stared at the control-cab, trying not to imagine the being that was behind the black oval window. A voice rasped out through the metal grille.

  I stood quite still, panicking inside. I had no idea what to do, no idea what was expected of me.

  The voice came again, sounding to my ready car angry and peremptory.

  I realized that several of the men in the back of the vehicle were leaning over towards me, extending their arms. I took this to mean that I was expected to join them, and so I walked over to them, and without further ado was helped aboard.

  As soon as I and my bag were in the open rear compartment, the vehicle moved off.

  My bloodied appearance ensured that I was the centre of attention as soon as I had boarded. Several of the Martians spoke directly to me, clearly awaiting some kind of reply. For a moment I was in a renewed state of panic, thinking that at last I should have to reveal my alien origins…

  But then a most fortunate inspiration came to me. I opened my mouth, made a gagging noise, and pointed at the heinous wound in my neck. The Martians spoke again, but I simply looked blank and continued to gag at them, hoping thereby to convince them that I had been stricken dumb.

  For a few more seconds the unwanted attention continued, but then they seemed to lose interest in me. More survivors had been seen, and the vehicle had halted. Soon, three more men and a woman were being helped aboard. They had apparently not suffered at the hands of the invaders, for they were uninjured.

  The vehicle moved off again, prowling the streets and occasionally letting forth an unpleasant braying sound through its metal grille. It was reassuring to be in the company of these Martian humans, but I could never quite put from my mind the grotesque presence of the monster-creature in the control-cab.

  The slow journey around the city continued for another two hours, and gradually more survivors were picked up. From time to time we saw other vehicles engaged in the same operation, and I presumed from this that the invasion was over.

  I found a corner at the back of the compartment, and sat down, cradling Amelia’s bag in my arms.

  I was wondering if what we had seen was, after all, a full-scale invasion. With the marauders departed, and the city smoking and damaged, it seemed more likely that what we had witnessed was more in the nature of a skirmish, or a reprisal mission. I recalled the firing of the snow-cannon, and wondered if those shells had been aimed at the cities of the enemy. If so, then Amelia and I had blundered into a fracas in which we had no part, and of which Amelia at least had become an unwitting victim.

  I thrust this thought aside: it was unbearable to think of her at the mercy of these monster-creatures.

  Somewhat later another thought occurred to me, one which gave me several unpleasant minutes. Could it be, I wondered, that I had been mistaken about the departure of the enemy? Was this truck being driven by one of the conquerors?

  I pondered this for some time, but then remembered the dead monster I had seen. That was apparently of this city, and furthermore the humans I was with did not show the same symptoms of fear as I had seen during the fighting. Could it be that every city on Mars was managed by the vile monster-creatures?

  There was hardly any time to consider this, for soon the compartment was filled, and the vehicle set off at a steady pace towards the edge of the city. We were deposited outside a large building, and directed inside. Here, slaves had prepared a meal, and with the others I ate what was put before me. Afterwards, we were taken to one of the undamaged dormitory buildings and allocated hammock-space. I spent that night lying in a cramped position with four Martian males on one hammock.

  iii

  There followed a long period of time (one so painful to me that I can barely bring myself to record it here), during which I was assigned to a labour-team set to repair the damaged streets and buildings. There was much to do, and, with the reduced population, no apparent end to the time I would be forced to work in this way.

  There was never the least possibility of escape. We were guarded by the monster-creatures every moment of every day, and the apparent freedoms of the city, which had allowed Amelia and I to explore it so thoroughly, were long gone. Now only a minute area of the city was occupied, and this was policed not only by the vehicles, but also overseen by the watch-towers not damaged in the raid. These were occupied by the monsters, who were apparently capable of staying immobile in their perches for hours at a time.

  Large number of slaves had been drafted in to the city, and the worst and heaviest tasks were given to them. Even so, much of the work I had to do was onerous.

  I was glad in one way that the work was demanding, for it helped me not to dwell too long on Amelia’s plight. I found myself wishing that she were dead, for I could not contemplate the horrible perversions the
obscene creatures would put her to if she remained alive in their captivity. But at the same time, I could not for one moment allow myself to think she was dead. I wanted her alive, for she was my own raison d’être. She was always in my thoughts, however distracting the events around me, and at nights I would lie awake, tormenting myself with guilt and self-acrimony. I wanted and loved her so, that scarcely a night passed when I did not sob in my hammock.

  It was no consolation that the misery of the Martians was an equal to mine, nor that at last I was understanding the causes of their eternal grief.

  iv

  I soon lost count of the days, but it could not have been less than six of Earth’s months before there came a dramatic change in my circumstances. One day, without prior warning, I was force-marched with about a dozen men and women away from the city. A monster-vehicle followed us.

  I thought at first we were being taken to one of the industrial sites, but shortly after leaving the protective dome we headed south, and crossed the canal by one of the bridges. Ahead of us I saw the barrel of the snow-cannon looming up.

  It appeared to have escaped undamaged in the raid—or else had been efficiently repaired—for there was an activity about the muzzle equal to the amount Amelia and I had seen that first time. At sight of this my heart sank, for I did not relish the thought of having to work in the thin, outer atmosphere; I was not the only one breathing laboriously as we marched, but I felt the native Martians would be better suited to working in the open. The weight of Amelia’s hand-bag—which I took with me everywhere—was a further encumbrance.

  We marched as far as the centre of the activity: close to the muzzle itself. By this time I was on the point of collapse, so difficult was it to breathe. As we came to a halt I discovered I was not alone in my agony, for everyone sat weakly on the ground. I joined them, trying to force my heart to still its furious beating.

  So occupied was I with my discomforts that I had neglected to take stock of the events around me. I was aware of the great, black muzzle twenty yards from me, and the fact that we had halted by a crowd of slaves, but that was all.

  There were two city-Martians standing to one side, and they were regarding us with some interest. Once I realized this, I looked back at them and saw that in certain respects they were different from other men I had seen here. They seemed very poised, for one thing, and they wore clothes that were different from those worn by everyone else. These were black garments, cut in almost military style.

  Apparently my looking back at them had drawn attention to myself, for a moment later the two Martians walked over to me and said something. Playing my rôle as a mute, I stared back at them. Their patience was thin: one reached down to me and pulled me to my feet. I was pushed to one side, where three male slaves were already standing apart. The two city-Martians then went to where the rest of the slaves were standing, selected a young girl, and brought her over to join us.

  I was uneasily aware that I and the four slaves had become the focus of some interest. Several of the Martians were staring at us, but as the two men in black came over to us they turned away, leaving us to whatever plight was in store.

  An order was issued, and the slaves turned obediently away. I followed at once, still anxious not to seem different. We were herded towards what appeared at first sight to be an immense vehicle. As we approached, however, I saw that it consisted in fact of two objects, temporarily joined together.

  Both parts were cylindrical in shape. The longer of the two was really the most bizarre machine I had seen during my time on Mars. It was about sixty feet in length, and, apart from its overall conformation to a cylindrical diameter of about twenty feet, was not regularly shaped. Along its base were many groups of the mechanical legs, but on the whole its exterior was smooth. At several places around its outer skin were perforations, and I could see water dribbling from some of these. At the far end of the machine a long, flexible pipe led away. This ran right across the desert, at least as far as the canal, and was looped and coiled in several places.

  The smaller of the two objects is simpler to describe, in that its shape was readily identifiable. So familiar was this shape that my heart began to beat wildly once more: this was the projectile that would be fired from the cannon!

  It was itself cylindrical for most of its length, but with a curving, pointed nose. The resemblance to an artillery-shell was startling…but there was never on Earth any shell of this size! From one end to another it must have been at least fifty feet long, and with a diameter of about twenty feet. The outer surface was finely machined so that it shone and dazzled in the bright sunlight. The smoothness of the surface was broken only in one place, and this was on the flat, rear end of the projectile. Here were four extrusions, and as we walked closer I saw that they were four of the heat-cannons we had seen the monster-creatures using. The four were placed symmetrically: one at the centre, the other three in an equilateral triangle about it.

  The two Martians led us past this to where a hatchway had been opened, near the nose of the projectile. At this I hesitated, for it had suddenly become clear that we were to go inside. The slaves had hesitated too, and the Martians raised their whips in a menacing fashion. Before another move could be made, one of the slaves was touched across the shoulders. He howled with pain, and fell to the ground.

  Two of the other slaves immediately bent to pick up the stricken man, and then, without further delay, we hurried up the sloping metal ramp into the projectile.

  v

  So it was that I began my voyage across the skies of Mars.

  There were seven human beings aboard that craft: myself and the four slaves, and the two black-suited city-Martians who were in control.

  The projectile itself was divided into three parts. At the very front of the craft was the small compartment where the two drivers stood during the flight. Immediately behind this, and separated from it by a metal partition, was a second compartment, and it was into this that I and the slaves were ushered. At the back of this compartment was a solid metal wall, entirely dividing this part of the craft from the main hold. It was there that the detestable monster-creatures and their deadly machines were carried. All this I discovered by a means I shall presently explain, but first I must describe the compartment in which I was placed.

  I had by chance been the last to enter the craft, and so I found myself nearest to the partition. The two men in charge were shouting instructions to more men outside, and this lasted for several minutes, allowing me to take stock of where we were.

  The interior of our compartment was almost bare. The walls were of unpainted metal, and because of the shape of the craft the floor where we stood curved up to become the ceiling too. Suspended from top to bottom, if my meaning is understood, were five tubes of what seemed to be a transparent fabric. Standing against the wall which separated this compartment from the main hold was what I at first took to be a large cupboard or cubicle, with two doors closed across it. I noticed that the slaves huddled away from it, and not knowing what it was for I too kept my distance.

  The forward area was small and rather cramped, but what most overwhelmed me was the array of scientific equipment it contained. There was little here that I could comprehend, but there was one instrument whose function was immediately self-evident.

  This was a large glass panel, placed directly in front of where the two drivers would stand. It was illuminated in some wise from behind, so that displays were projected on to it, not unlike several magic lanterns being operated at once. These displays revealed a number of views, and my attention was drawn to them.

  The largest of the pictures showed the view directly forward of the projectile; that is to say, at the moment I first saw it the picture was entirely occupied by the machine presently connected to the nose of the projectile. Then there were views of what was happening to each side of the projectile, and behind. Another showed the very compartment in which I stood, and I could see my own figure standing by the partition. I w
aved my hand to myself for several moments, enjoying the novelty. The last showed what I presumed was the interior of the main hold of the craft, but here the image was dark and it was not possible to make out details.

  Less interesting than this panel were the other instruments, the largest of which were clustered before two more of the flexible, transparent tubes which ran from top to bottom of the compartment.

  At last the men at the hatch finished their instructions, and they stepped back. One of them wound a wheeled handle, and the hatch door was slowly brought up until it was flush with the rest of the hull. As it did so, our one source of daylight was sealed, and artificial lighting came on. Neither of the two men paid any attention to us, but moved across to the controls.

  I looked at the slaves with me inside the compartment. The girl and one of the men were squatting on the floor, while a third spoke reassuringly to the man who had been struck with the whip. This last was in a bad way: he was trembling uncontrollably, and had lost the use of his facial muscles so that his eyes were slack, and saliva trickled from his mouth.

  Returning my gaze to the displays I saw that with the turning on of the artificial lights, the main hold of the craft could now be seen. Here, in conditions which looked intolerably cramped, were the monster-creatures. I counted five of them, and each had already installed itself in a larger version of the transparent fabric tubes that I had already seen. Seeing these ghastly beings thus suspended was no less horrific for being slightly comical.

  Looking at the other panels I saw that there was still considerable activity around the projectile. There seemed to be several hundred people outside, mostly slaves, and they were engaged in hauling away various pieces of heavy equipment which stood around the muzzle of the cannon.

  Many minutes passed, with no apparent movement in the craft. The two men at the controls were busy checking their instruments. Then, unexpectedly, the whole projectile lurched, and looking at the various panels I saw that we were moving slowly backwards. Another panel showed the view at the rear of the craft: we were being propelled slowly up the ramp towards the muzzle of the cannon.