The Space Machine

by Christopher Priest

  At last sense filtered through, and I set myself to a meticulous and systematic examination of the cabin.

  First, I examined the controls, hoping that there might be some way I could set the display-panels working, so that I could see where the craft had landed. With no success here (the impact of landing appeared to have broken the workings), I turned my attention to the flying controls themselves.

  Although at first sight there seemed to be an amazing confusion of levers and wheels, I soon noticed that certain instruments were placed inside one of the transparent pressure-tubes. It was in these that the two Martians had passed the flight, and so it was logical that they would have had to be able to control the trajectory from within.

  I parted the fabric with my hands (now that the flight was over it was quite limp), and inspected these instruments.

  They were solidly built—presumably to withstand the various pressures of the firing and final impact—and simple in design. A kind of podium had been built on the floor of the cabin, and it was on this that they were mounted. Although there were certain needle-dials whose function I could not even guess, the two major controls were metal levers. One of these bore a remarkable resemblance to the lever on Sir William’s Time Machine: it was mounted pivotally and could be moved fore or aft, or to either side I touched it experimentally, and moved it away from me. At once, there was a noise in another part of the hull, and the craft trembled slightly.

  The other lever was surmounted by a piece of some bright-green substance. This had only one apparent movement—downwards—and at the same moment I laid my hand on it there was a tremendous explosion outside the hull, and I was thrown from my feet by a sudden, sharp movement of the entire craft.

  As I clambered to my feet again I realized that I had discovered the device that triggered the green flashes which had controlled our landing.

  Understanding at last that the projectile was still functioning, if momentarily at rest, I decided that it would be safer if I were instead to concentrate on escaping.

  I returned to the hatch and renewed my efforts to turn the wheel. Much to my surprise it was freer, and the hatch itself actually shifted a few inches before jamming again. As it did so a quantity of gravel and dry soil poured through the crack. This was rather perplexing, until I realized that in the impact of our landing a large part of the craft, and most certainly the nose, would have been buried in the ground.

  I considered this with some care, then closed the hatch thoughtfully. I returned to the controls, then, bracing myself, I depressed the green-tipped lever.

  A few seconds late; slightly deafened and certainly unsteady on my feet, I returned to the hatch. It was still jammed, but there was more play than before.

  It took four more attempts before the hatch opened far enough to admit a minor avalanche of soil and pebbles, and daylight showed above. I hesitated only long enough to pick up Amelia’s hand-bag, then squeezed my way through the aperture to freedom.

  ii

  After a long climb through loose soil, using the solid bulk of the hull to support myself, I reached the top of the wall of dirt.

  I saw that the projectile had on landing created for itself a vast pit, in which it now rested. On every side of it had been thrown up large mounds of soil, and acrid green smoke—produced presumably as a result of my efforts—drifted about. I had no way of telling how deeply the projectile had been buried on its first impact, although I guessed I had shifted it from its original position during my escape.

  I walked around to the rear end of the projectile, which was clear of the ground and overhanging unbroken soil. The monster-creatures had thrown open the huge hatch, which was the rear wall of the projectile, and the main hold—which I now saw as taking up most of the volume of the craft—was empty both of beings and their devices. The bottom lip was only a foot or two above the ground, so it was easy to enter the hold. I went inside.

  It was the work of a few moments to walk through the cavernous hold and inspect the traces of the monsters’ presence, and yet it was nearly an hour before I finally emerged from the craft.

  I found that my earlier count had been accurate: that there was space for five of the monsters in the hold. There had also been several of the vehicles aboard, for I saw many bulkheads and clamps built into the metal hull by which they had been restrained.

  In the deepest part of the hold, against the wall which separated it from the forward section, I came across a large canopy, the shape and volume of which indicated unerringly that it was for the use of the monsters. With some trepidation I peered inside…then recoiled away.

  Here was the mechanism which operated the blood-sucking cubicle in the slaves’ compartment, for I saw an arrangement of blades and pipettes, joined by transparent tubes to a large glass reservoir still containing much blood.

  By this device did these vampiric monsters take the lives of humans!

  I went to the opened end of the hold, and cleared my lungs of the stench. I was utterly appalled by what I had found, and my whole body was trembling with revulsion.

  A little later I returned to the interior of the craft. I went to examine the various pieces of equipment the monsters had left behind them, and in doing this I made a discovery that made my elaborate escape seem unnecessary. I found that the hull of the projectile was actually of double thickness, and that leading from the main hold was a network of narrow passages which traversed most of the length of the craft. By clambering through these I came eventually, through a trap-door in the floor that I had not previously noticed, into the control-cabin.

  The bodies of the two Martian humans were enough reminder of what I had seen aboard the projectile, so without further delay I returned through the passages to the main hold. I was about to jump down to the floor of the desert when it occurred to me that in this dangerous world it would be as well to be armed, and so I searched the hold for something that might serve as a weapon. There was not much to choose from, for the monsters had taken all movable pieces with them…but then I remembered the blades in the blood-letting canopy.

  I filled my lungs with fresh air, then hurried to the canopy. There I found that the blades were held in place by a simple sheath, and so I selected one of about nine inches in length. I unscrewed it, wiped it clean on the fabric of one of the pressure-tubes, and placed it inside Amelia’s hand-bag.

  Then at last I hurried from the craft, and went out into the desert.

  iii

  I looked about me, wondering which way I should travel to find shelter. I knew I was somewhere near another city, for I had seen it on the display as we landed, but where it was I did not know.

  I glanced first at the sun, and saw that it was near meridian. At first this confused me, for the projectile had been launched at the height of the day and I had slept for only a few hours, but then I realized just how far the craft must have travelled. It had been launched in a westerly direction, so I must now be on the other side of the planet during the same day!

  However, what was important was that there were still several hours to nightfall.

  I walked away from the projectile towards an outcropping of rock some five hundred yards away. This was the highest point I could see, and I judged that from its peak I should be able to survey the whole region.

  I was not being mindful of my surroundings: I kept my eyes directed towards the ground in front of me. I was not elated at my escape, and indeed there was a great gloom in me; a familiar emotion, for I had lived with it since that day in Desolation City when Amelia had been snatched away from me. Nothing had served to remind me of her. It was simply that now I was freed of my immediate concerns, my thoughts returned inevitably to her.

  Thus it was that I was halfway to the rocks before I noticed what was going on around me.

  I saw that many more projectiles had landed. There were a dozen within my view, and to one side I could see three of the legged ground vehicles standing together. Of the monsters themselves, or the humans who h
ad brought them here, there was no sign, although I knew that most of the monsters were probably already seated inside the armoured housings of their vehicles.

  My lonely presence attracted no attention as I trudged across the reddish sand. The monsters cared little for the affairs of humans, and I cared nothing for theirs. My only hope was to locate the city, and so I continued on my way to the rocks.

  Here I paused for a moment, staring around. The texture of the rocks was brittle, and as I placed my weight on a low ledge, tiny chips of the alluvial rock fell away.

  I climbed carefully, balancing my weight with Amelia’s bag.

  When I was about twenty feet above the desert floor I came to a broad shelf across the face of the rocks, and. I rested for a few seconds.

  I looked out across the desert, seeing the ugly craters made by the projectiles as they landed, and seeing the blunt, open ends of the projectiles themselves. I stared as far I could see in all directions, but there was no sign of the city. I picked up the bag again, and started to work my way around the face of the rocks, climbing all the way.

  The outcrop was larger than I had first supposed, and it took me several minutes to reach the other side. Here the rocks were more broken, and my hold was precarious.

  I came around a large rocky protuberance, feeling my way along a narrow ledge. As I cleared the obstacle, I stopped in amazement.

  Directly in front of me—and, coincidentally, blocking my view across the desert—was the platform of one of the watch-towers!

  I was so surprised to see one here that I felt no sense of danger. The thing was still; the black, oval window was on the further side, so even if there were a monster-creature inside I would not be noticed.

  I looked across the rock-face in the direction I had been climbing towards, and saw that here there was a deep cleft. I leaned forward, supporting myself with my hand, and glanced down; I was now about fifty feet above the desert floor, and it was a sheer drop. My only way down was by the way I had come. I hesitated, debating what to do.

  I felt certain that there was one of the monster-creatures inside the platform of the tower, but why it was standing here in the shelter of the rocks I could not say. I remembered the towers in the city: during normal times the towers seemed to be left to work mechanically. I wondered if this were one such. Certainly, the fact that its platform was immobile lent weight to the notion that the platform was unoccupied. Furthermore, by its very presence it was denying me the purpose of my climb. I needed to locate the city, and from where I was forced to stand by nature of the rocks’ configuration, my view was blocked by the tower.

  Looking again at the platform of the tower I wondered if this obstacle might be turned to my advantage.

  I had never before been quite as close to one as this, and the details of its construction became of great interest to me. Around the base of the platform itself was a shelf or ledge some twenty-four inches in depth; a man could stand in comfort on it, and indeed in greater safety than in my present position on the rocks. Above this shelf was the body of the platform itself: a broad, shallow cylinder with a sloping roof, some seven feet high at the back, and about ten feet high at the front. The roof itself was domed slightly, and around part of its circumference was a rail about three feet high. On the rear wall were three metal rungs, which presumably assisted entry to and exit from the platform itself, for set into a part of the roof directly above them was a large hatch, which was presently closed.

  Without further delay I gripped the rungs and hauled myself up to the roof, swinging Amelia’s bag before me! I stood up and stepped gingerly towards the rail, gripping it with my free hand. Now at last my view across the desert was uninterrupted.

  The sight I saw was one which no man before me had ever beheld.

  I have already described how much of the Martian terrain is flat and desert-like; that there are also mountainous regions was evidenced by my view from the projectile in flight. What I did not until that moment realize was that, in certain parts of the desert, single mountains—of a height and breadth with no Earthly parallel—thrust themselves out of the plain, standing alone.

  One such stood before me.

  Now, lest my words should mislead, I must immediately modify my description, for my very first impression of this mountain was that its scale was quite insignificant. Indeed, my attention was drawn first to the city I had been seeking, which lay some five miles from where I stood. This I saw through the crystal-clear Martian air, and registered that it was built on a scale that vastly exceeded that of Desolation City.

  Only when I had established the direction in which I should have, to travel, and the distance I would have to cover to reach it, did I look beyond the city towards the mountain against whose lower slopes it had been built.

  At first sight this mountain appeared to be the beginnings of a rounded plateau region; instead of the upper surface being sharply defined, however, the heights were vague and unclear. As my senses adapted, I realized that this lack of definition was caused by my looking along the very surface of the mountain’s slope. So large was the mountain, in fact, that the major part of it lay beyond the horizon, so that the thrust of its height was competing with the planet’s curvature! In the far distance I could just make out what must have been the mountain’s peak: white and conical, with vapour drifting from the, volcanic crater.

  This summit seemed to be no more than a few thousand feet high; taking into account the fact of the planet’s curvature, I dare say that a more accurate estimate of the height would be at least ten or fifteen miles above ground level! Such physical scale was almost beyond the comprehension of a man from Earth, and it was many minutes before I could accept what I saw.

  I was preparing to climb back to the rocks, and start my descent to the ground, when I noticed a movement some distance to my left.

  I saw that it was one of the legged vehicles, moving slowly across the desert in the direction of the city. It was not alone; in fact, there were several dozen of these vehicles, presumably brought in the many projectiles which lay scattered across the desert.

  What was more, there were scores of the watch-towers, some standing about the vehicles, others sheltering, like the one on which I was perched, beside one or another outcropping of rock, of which there were several between here and the city.

  I had long realized that the flight in which I had taken part was a military mission, retaliating against the invasion of Desolation City. I had further assumed that the target would be a minor foe, for I had seen the might of those invaders and did not think that vengeance would be sought directly against them. But this was not the case. The city against which the vehicles were ranged was immense, and when I looked towards it I could just make out the extent to which the place was defended. The outer limits of the city, for example, seemed forested with watch-towers, lining the perimeter so thickly in places that it was as if a stockade had been erected. Moreover, the ground was swarming with fighting-vehicles, and I could see orderly patterns of them, like black metal soldiers on parade.

  Against this was the pitiful attacking force on whose side, accident had placed me. I counted sixty of the legged ground vehicles, and about fifty of the watch-towers.

  I was so fascinated by this spectacle of a coming battle that I forgot for a moment where I was standing. Indeed, I was speculating about just what kind of rôle the watch-towers would play, neglecting the fact that if I did not move I would surely find out! My best estimate was that the legged vehicles would move forward to attack the city, while the watch-towers would stand defence over the projectiles.

  At first this seemed to be the case. The legged vehicles moved slowly and steadily towards the city, and those watch-towers unprotected by the rocks began to raise their platforms to the full height of sixty feet.

  I decided that it was time I left my vantage point, and turned round to look back at the rocks, still gripping the rail in my hand.

  Then something happened I could never have an
ticipated. I heard a slight noise to my right, and I looked round in surprise. There, emerging from behind the bluff wall of the rocks, came a watch-tower.

  It was walking: the three metal shafts that were the legs of the tower were striding eerily beneath the platform!

  The tower on which I stood suddenly lurched, and we fell forward. All around, the other watch-towers withdrew their legs from the gravelly soil, and strode forward in the wake of the ground-vehicles.

  It was too late to jump to safety on the rock-face: already it was twenty yards away. I gripped the rail for all I was worth, as the walking watch-tower bore me out into battle!

  iv

  It was no good recriminating with myself for my lack of fore-sight; the incredible machine was already moving at about twenty miles an hour, and accelerating all the while. The air roared past my ears, and my hair flew. My eyes were streaming.

  The watch-tower that had been beside mine at the rocks was a few yards ahead of us, but we were keeping pace. Because of this I was able to see how the contraption managed its ungainly gait. I saw that it was no less than a larger version of the tripodal legs that powered the ground-vehicles, but the effect here was quite startling in its total alienness. When driving forward at speed there were never more than two legs in contact with the ground at any moment, and that only for a fleeting instant. The weight was transferred constantly from one leg to the next in turn, while the other two swung up and forwards. To effect this the platform at the top was tilted slightly to the right, but the very smoothness of the motion indicated that there was a kind of transmission mounting below the platform that absorbed the minor irregularities of the ground. I felt far from secure on my precarious perch, but for the moment a firm grip on the rail was enough to ensure that I would not be easily pitched to the ground.