The Space Machine

by Christopher Priest

  “But what could we do to stop that?”

  “You agree, though, that we must find a way to Earth?”

  “Yes, of course. But how?”

  “If they are travelling by projectile,” I had said, “then we must somehow stow away. The journey will not take more than a day or two, and we could survive that long. Once we are on Earth we can alert the authorities.”

  For a makeshift plan this was good enough, and Amelia had agreed with it in principle. Her main doubts, though, were elsewhere.

  “Edward, I cannot just abandon these people now. I have encouraged them to revolt, and now I propose to leave them at the crucial moment.”

  “I could leave you here with them,” I had said, with deliberate coldness.

  “Oh no.” She had taken my hand then. “My loyalties are with Earth. It is simply that I have a responsibility here for what I have started.”

  “Isn’t that at the centre of your dilemma?” I said. “You have started the revolution. You have been the necessary catalyst for the people. But it is their fight for freedom, not yours. In any event, you cannot direct an entire revolution alone, with an alien race you barely understand, in a language you do not speak. If the preparations are being made, and you have not yet seen most of them, already you have become little more than a figurehead.”

  “I suppose so.”

  She was still absorbed in thought, though, as we sat in the train, and I knew it was a decision she would have to make for herself.

  The two Martian overseers were pointing proudly towards one of the industrial sites the train was passing. There seemed to be little activity here, for no smoke came from any of the chimneys. There were several of the battle-machines standing about, and we saw many legged vehicles. Edwina explained that it was here that sabotage had already been committed. There had been no reprisals, for the various acts had been made to appear accidental.

  For my part, I had been taken by an enthralling notion, and was presently considering every aspect of it.

  The revolution that meant so much to Amelia was of less concern to me, for it had been conceived and planned in my absence. I think, had I not heard of the monsters’ planned migration from Mars, that I too would have thrown myself into the cause and fought for it, and risked my life for it. But in all the weeks and months I had been on Mars, I had never lost an inner ache: the feeling of isolation, the sense of homesickness. I wanted desperately to return to my own world, or that part of it I knew as home.

  I had been missing London—for all its crowds and noises and rank odours—and I had been hungering for the sight of greenery. There is nothing so beautiful as the English countryside in spring, and if, in the past, I had taken it for granted, I knew that I could never do so again. This was a world of foreign colours: grey cities, rufous soil, scarlet vegetation. If there had been so much as one oak-tree, or one bumpy meadow, or one bank of wild flowers, I might at last have learned to live on Mars, but none of these existed.

  That the monster-creatures had the means of reaching Earth was therefore of intense importance to me, for it provided a way back to our home.

  I had proposed to Amelia that we stow away on one of their deadly projectiles, but this was a dangerous idea.

  Quite apart from the fact that we might be discovered during the voyage, or that some other danger might appear, we would be arriving on Earth in the company of the most hostile and ruthless enemy mankind would have ever had to face!

  We did not know the monsters’ plans, but we had no reason to suppose that their mission was one of peace. Neither Amelia nor I had the right to participate in an invasion of Earth, however passive the part we played. Moreover, we had a bounden duty to warn the world of the Martians’ plans.

  There was a solution to this, and from the moment it occurred to me the simple audacity of it made it irresistible.

  I had been aboard one of the projectiles; I had seen it in flight; I had examined its controls.

  Amelia and I would steal one of the projectiles, and fly it ourselves to Earth!

  v

  We arrived in the city without being challenged, and were led through the streets by our Martian accomplices.

  The sparseness of the population was not as evident here as it had been in Desolation City. There were fewer empty buildings, and the obvious military strength of the monster-creatures had averted any invasions. Another difference was that there were factories within the city itself—as well as in separate areas outside—for there was a smoky industrial pall that served to heighten my feelings of homesickness for London.

  We had no time to see much of the city, for we were taken immediately to one of the dormitories. Here, in a small room at the rear, we met one of the main cells of the revolution.

  As we entered, the Martians showed their enthusiasm by leaping up and down as before. I could not help but warm to these poor, enslaved people, and share their excitement as the overthrow of the monsters became ever a more realistic proposition.

  We were treated as royalty is treated in England, and I realized that Amelia and I were acting regally. Our every response was eagerly awaited, and mute as we had to be, we smiled and nodded as one Martian after another explained to us, through Edwina, what his assigned task was to be.

  From here we were taken to another place, and more of the same happened. It was almost exactly as I had described it to Amelia: she had catalysed the Martians to action, and set in motion a sequence of events she could no longer control.

  I was becoming tired and impatient, and as we walked to inspect a third cell, I said to Amelia: “We are not spending our time well.”

  “We must do as they wish. We owe them at least this.”

  “I would like to see more of the city. We do not even know where the snow-cannon is to be found.”

  In spite of the fact that we were with six Martians, each of whom was trying to speak to her through Edwina, Amelia expressed her feelings with a tired shrug.

  “I cannot leave them now,” she said. “Perhaps you could go alone.”

  “Then who would interpret for me?”

  Edwina was tugging at Amelia’s hand, trying to show her the building to which we were presently walking and where, presumably, the next cell was concealed. Amelia dutifully smiled and nodded.

  “We had best not separate,” she said. “But if you ask Edwina, she could find out what you want to know.”

  A few moments later we entered the building, and in the darkened basement we were greeted by some forty enthusiastic Martians.

  A little later I managed to take Edwina away from Amelia long enough to convey to her what I wanted. She seemed not interested, but passed on the message to one of the city-Martians present. He left the basement soon after, while we continued the inspection of our revolutionary troops.

  vi

  Just as we were readying ourselves to leave for the next port of call, my emissary returned, bringing with him two young Martian men dressed in the black uniforms of the men who drove the projectiles.

  At the sight of them I was a little taken aback. Of all the humans I had met here, the men trained to fly the projectiles had seemed the closest to the monster-creatures, and were therefore the ones I had least expected to be trusted now the old order was about to be overthrown. But here the two men were, admitted to one of the revolutionary nerve-centres.

  Suddenly, my idea became easier to put into effect. I had intended to gain entry to the snow-cannon, while Amelia and I were disguised, and attempt to work out the controls for myself. However, if I could communicate to these two what I wanted they could show me themselves how to operate the craft, or even come with us to Earth.

  I said to Edwina: “I want you to ask these two men to take me to their flying war-machine, and show me how it is operated.”

  She repeated my sentence to me, and when I had made sure she understood me correctly, she passed it on. One of the Martians replied.

  “He wants to know where you are taking the craft
,” said Edwina.

  “Tell them that I wish to steal it from the monsters, and take it to the warm world.”

  Edwina replied immediately: “Will you go alone, pale dwarf, or will Amelia go with you?”

  “We will go together.”

  Edwina’s response to this was not what I would have wished. She turned towards the revolutionaries, and embarked on a long speech, with much sibilance and waving arms. Before she had finished, about a dozen Martian men hurried towards me, took me by the arms and held me with my face pressing against the wall.

  From the far side of the room, Amelia called: “What have you said now, Edward?”

  vii

  It took Amelia ten minutes to secure my release. In the meantime I suffered considerable discomfort, with both my arms twisted painfully behind my back. For all their frail appearance, the Martians were very strong.

  When I was freed, Amelia and I went into a small room at the back, accompanied by two of the Martian men. In this they played unwittingly into our hands, for without Edwina they could not understand us, and it was to talk to Amelia that I wanted.

  “Now please tell me what that was all about,” she said.

  “I have worked out a new idea for our return to Earth I was trying to put it into effect, and the Martians misunderstood my motives.”

  “Then what did you say?”

  I outlined for her the essence of my plan to steal a projectile in advance of the monsters’ invasion.

  “Could you drive such a machine?” she said when I had finished.

  “I shouldn’t imagine there would be any difficulty. I have examined the controls. It would be a matter of a few minutes to familiarize myself.”

  Amelia looked doubtful, but she said: “Even so, you have seen how the people react. They will not let me go with you. Does your plan allow for that?”

  “You have already said that you will not stay here.”

  “Of my own free will I would not.”

  “Then we must somehow persuade them,” I said.

  The two Martians guarding us were shifting restlessly. As I had been speaking I had laid my hand on Amelia’s arm, and at this they had started forward protectively.

  “We had better return to the others,” Amelia said. “They do not trust you as it is.”

  “We have resolved nothing,” I said.

  “At this moment we have not. But if I intervene I think we may persuade them.”

  I was learning at last to interpret the expressions of the Martians, and when we returned to the basement I sensed that the feeling had moved even further against me. Several people went forward to Amelia with their hands raised, and I was thrust aside. The two men who had been guarding us stayed with me, and I was forced to stand apart while Amelia was acclaimed possessively. Edwina was with her, and hasty words were exchanged for several minutes. In the uproar I could not hear what was being said.

  I watched Amelia.

  In the midst of the confusion she stayed placid and in control of her emotions, listening to Edwina’s translations, then waiting while more voices harangued her in that foreign sibilance. It was, in spite of the tension, a wonderful moment, because in that enforced objectivity I was able to see her from a standpoint that was at once more intimate and more distanced than I cared. We had been thrust into each other’s company by our adventures, and yet now we were being torn away from each other as a consequence. The fundamental alienness of these Martian people never seemed more affecting to me than at that moment.

  I knew that if Amelia was prevented from flying with me in the projectile, then I would stay with her on Mars.

  At last order was restored, and Amelia moved to the end of the room. With Edwina by her side she turned to face the crowd. I was still kept to one side, hemmed in by my two guards.

  Amelia raised her right hand, spreading her fingers, and silence fell.

  “My people, what has happened has forced me to reveal to you my origins.” She was speaking slowly and softly, allowing Edwina to interpret for her. “I have not done so before, because your legends spoke of your freedom being delivered by one who was enslaved from birth. I have suffered with you and worked with you, and although you have accepted me as your leader I was not born to slavery.”

  There was an instant reaction to this, but Amelia went on: “Now I have learned that the race of beings which has enslaved you, and which will shortly be overthrown by your valour, is intending to spread its dominance to another world…the one you know as the warm world. What I have not told you before is that I am myself from the warm world, and I travelled across the sky in a craft similar to the one your masters use.”

  She was interrupted here by much noise from the Martians.

  “Our revolution here cannot fail, for our determination is as great as our bravery. But if some of these creatures are allowed to escape to another world, who could say that they would never return at a later time? But then, the passions of revolution would be spent, and the creatures would easily enslave you once more.

  “For the revolution to succeed, we must ensure that every one of the creatures is killed!”

  “Therefore it is essential that I return to my own world to warn my people of what is being planned here. The man you call the pale dwarf, and I, must carry this warning, and unite the people of the warm world as we have united you here to fight this menace. Then, when we are able, I will return to share with you the glories of freedom!”

  I knew that Amelia had already allayed the worst of the Martians’ suspicions, for several were leaping enthusiastically.

  She had more to say, though: “Finally, you must no longer distrust the man you call the pale dwarf. It is his heroic deed which must become your example. He, and only he, has shown that the monsters are mortal. Let his brave act be the first blow for freedom!”

  All the Martians were leaping and shrilling, and in the noise I doubted if any could hear her. But she looked at me and spoke softly, and her words carried to me as clearly as if the room were silent.

  She said: “You must trust and love him, just as I trust and love him.”

  Then I rushed across the room towards her and took her in my arms, oblivious of the demonstrative approval of the Martians.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ESCAPE FROM OPPRESSION!

  i

  With our plan of action finally understood and approved by the Martians, Amelia and I separated for the rest of the day. She continued with her tour of the revolutionary units, while I went with the two Martians to inspect the snow-cannon and projectile. Edwina came with us, for there was much that would have to be explained.

  The cannon-site was outside the main part of the city, but to reach it we did not have to cross open territory. By a clever device, the monster-creatures had extended their electrical force-screen into a tunnel shape, through which it was possible to walk in warm and breathable air. This tunnel led directly towards the mountain, and although from this level not much of the mountain could be seen, ahead of us I noticed the immense buildings of the cannon-site.

  There was much traffic in this extension, both pedestrian and vehicular, and I found the activity reassuring. I had been given a suit of the black clothes, but the ‘dwarf’ sobriquet was a reminder of my abnormal appearance.

  As the extension reached the place where the protective screen opened out again, by the entrance to the cannon-site itself, we came under the direct scrutiny of several of the monsters. These were mounted inside permanent guard-positions, and the monsters themselves sat behind faintly tinted glass screens, observing all who passed with their broad, expressionless eyes.

  To pass this point we adopted a previously agreed deception. I and the two men pushed Edwina before us, as if she were being taken for some inhuman treatment. One of the Martians was holding an electrical whip, and he brandished it with great conviction.

  Inside the area itself there were more monsters in evidence than I had ever seen anywhere on Mars, but once past the guard-p
ost we were ignored. Most of the odious creatures had legged vehicles in which to move about, but I saw several who were dragging themselves slowly along the ground. This was the first time I had seen this; until now I had assumed that without their mechanical aids the monsters were helpless. Indeed, in face-to-face combat with a human a monster would be totally vulnerable, for the motion was slow and painful, four of the tentacles being used as clumsy, crab-like legs.

  The presence of the monsters was not, however, the most intimidating aspect of this area.

  Having noticed the cannon-site buildings while walking towards them from the city, I had registered that they were of great size, but now we were among them I realized just how enormous were the engines of science on this world. Walking between the buildings, it was as if we were ants in a city street.

  My guides attempted to explain the purpose of each building as we passed it. Edwina’s vocabulary was limited, and I obtained only the vaguest idea of the overall plan. As far as I could understand, the various components of the battle-machines were manufactured in the outlying factories, then brought to this place where they were assembled and primed. In one building—which must have been at least three hundred feet high—I could see through immense open doors that several of the tripodal battle-machines were in the process of being built: the one furthest from us was no more than a skeletal framework suspended from pulleys, while beneath it one of the three legs was being attached, but the battle-machine nearest us seemed to be complete, for its platform was being rotated while around it many supplementary instruments scanned and tested.

  Both men and monsters worked in these mighty sheds, and to my eyes it seemed that the co-existence was unforced. There were no obvious signs of the slave-rule, and it occurred to me that perhaps not every human on Mars would welcome the revolution.

  After we had passed some twenty or so of these sheds, we came to a vast stretch of open land, and I stopped dead in my tracks, speechless at what I saw.