So, although Amelia remarked on my pallor when I returned, I said nothing of what I had seen. I slept uneasily that night, and once when I wakened I fancied I could hear a low crooning coming from the next compartment.
The following day, our second in space, an event occurred that made it difficult to keep my discovery to myself. On the day after that, and in subsequent days, there were further incidents that made it impossible.
It happened like this:
I had been experimenting with the panel that displayed the view before the ship, trying to understand the device whose nearest translation had been target. I had found that knobs could cause an illuminated grid-pattern to be projected over the picture. This was certainly in accord with target, for at the centre of the grid was a circle containing two crossed lines. However, beyond this I had not learned anything.
I turned my attention to the rearward panel.
In this, the view of Mars had changed somewhat while we slept. The reddish planet was now sufficiently far away for most of it to be seen as a disk in the panel, though still, because of the spinning of our craft, appearing to revolve. We were on the sunward side of the planet—which was itself reassuring, since Earth lies to the sunward of Mars—and the visible area was roughly the shape that one sees on Earth a day or two before a full moon. The planet was turning on its own axis, of course, and during the morning I had seen the great protuberance of the volcano appear.
Then, just as my watch declared the time to be nearly midday, an enormous white cloud appeared near the summit of the volcano.
I called Amelia to the controls, and showed her what I had seen.
She stared at it in silence for several minutes, then said softly: “Edward, I think a second projectile has been launched.”
I nodded dumbly, for she had only confirmed my own fears.
All that afternoon we watched the rearward panel, and saw the cloud drifting slowly across the face of the world. Of the projectile itself we could see no sign, but both of us knew we were no longer alone in space.
On the third day, a third projectile was fired, and Amelia said: “We are part of an invasion of Earth.”
“No,” I said, grimly lying to her. “I believe we will have twenty-four hours in which to alert the authorities on Earth.”
But on the fourth day another projectile was hurled into space behind us, and like each of the three before it, the moment of firing was almost exactly at midday.
Amelia said, with unassailable logic: “They are conforming to a regular pattern, and our craft was the first piece in that pattern. Edward, I maintain that we are a part of the invasion.”
It was then that my secret could no longer be maintained. I took her into the passages that ran the length of the ship, and showed her what I had seen through the sliding metal panel. The monsters had not moved, still slumbering peacefully while their flight to Earth continued. Amelia took her turn at the hole in silence.
“When we arrive on Earth,” she said, “we will be obliged to act quickly. We must escape from the projectile at the earliest possible moment.”
“Unless we can destroy them before we land,” I said.
“Is there any way?”
“I have been trying to think. There is no way we can enter the hold.” I showed her how the hatch had been fused. “We could possibly devise some way of cutting off their supply of air.”
“Or introducing to it some poison.”
I seized on this solution eagerly, for since I had made my discovery my fears had been growing about what these creatures could do on Earth. It was unimaginable that they could be allowed to do their Devil’s work! I had no idea how the air was circulated through the ship, but as my command of the controls was increasing so was my confidence, and I felt that this should not be impossible to solve.
I had said nothing to Amelia of the slaves in their compartment—for I was by now convinced that there were many aboard—but I had done her an injustice when anticipating her reaction.
That evening, Amelia said: “Where are the Martian slaves, Edward?”
Her question was so forthright that I did not know what to say.
“Are they in the compartment behind ours?” she went on.
“Yes,” I said. “But it has been sealed.”
“So there is no possibility of releasing them?”
“None that I know of,” I said.
We were both silent after this exchange, because the awfulness of the wretches’ prospects was unthinkable. Some time later, when I was on my own, I went to their hatch and tried again to see if it could be opened, but it was hopeless. As far as I can recall, neither Amelia nor I ever referred directly to the slaves again. For this, I at least was grateful.
v
On the fifth day of our voyage a fifth projectile was fired. By this time, Mars was distant on our rearwards panel, but we had little difficulty in seeing the cloud of white vapour.
On the sixth day I discovered a control attached to the screens which could enhance and enlarge the images. When midday came around we were able to see, in relatively clear detail, the firing of the sixth cylinder.
Four more days passed and, on each of them the mighty snow-cannon was fired, but on the eleventh day the volcano passed across the visible portion of Mars, and no white cloud appeared. We watched until the volcano had passed beyond the terminator, but as far as we could tell no projectile was fired that day.
Nor was there on the day following. Indeed, after the tenth projectile no more were fired at all. Remembering those hundreds of gleaming craft lying at the base of the mountain, we could not believe that the monsters would call off their plans with so comparatively few missiles en route for the target. This did seem to be the case, though, for as the days passed we never abandoned our watch of the red planet but not once again did we see any sign of the cannon being fired.
Of course, we occupied much time in speculating as to why this should be so.
I advanced the theory that this was the monsters’ plan: that an advance guard of ten projectiles would invade and occupy an area of Earth, for after all they would have an armoury of at least fifty battle-machines with which to do this. For this reason I felt our watch should be maintained, arguing that more projectiles would soon be following.
Amelia was of a different mind. She saw the surcease in terms of a victory for the Martian humans’ revolution, that the people had broken through the monsters’ defences and taken control.
In either event we had no way of verifying anything other than what we saw. The migration had effectively finished with ten projectiles, at least for the time being.
By this time we were many days into our voyage, and Mars itself was a small, glowing body many millions of miles behind us. Our focus of interest was moving from this, for now, in the forwards panel, we could see our homeworld looming towards us: a tiny crescent of light, so indescribably lovely and still.
vi
As the weeks passed I became more at home with the controls, feeling that I understood the function of most. I had even come to understand the device the Martians had called the target, and had realized that it was possibly the most important of all the controls.
I had learned to use this when viewing Earth through the forwards panel. It had been Amelia who had first pointed out our world: a clearly defined brilliance near the edge of the panel. Of course, we were both much affected by the sight, and the knowledge that every day carried us thousands of miles nearer to it was a source of steadily growing excitement. But as one day followed another, the image of our world slipped nearer and nearer to the edge of the display, until we realized that it could not be long before it vanished from our sight altogether. I adjusted the controls of the panel equipment to no avail.
Then, in desperation, Amelia suggested that I should turn on the illuminated grid that was projected across the panel. As I did this I saw that a second, more ghostly grid lay behind it. Unlike the main one, this had its central circle fixed on
the image of our world. It was most uncanny…as if the device had a mind of its own.
At the same moment as the second grid appeared, several lights flashed on beneath the image. We could not understand their meaning, naturally enough, but the fact that my action had produced a response was significant in itself.
Amelia said: “I think it means we must steer the craft.”
“But it was aimed accurately from Mars.”
“Even so…it seems to me that we are no longer flying towards Earth.”
We argued a little longer, but at last I could no longer avoid the fact that the time had come for me to demonstrate my prowess as a driver. With Amelia’s encouragement I settled myself before the main driving lever, gripped it in both my hands, and moved it experimentally to one side.
Several things, happened at once.
The first was that a great noise and vibration echoed through the projectile. Another was that both Amelia and I were thrown to one side. And in addition everything in our compartment that was not secured flew willy-nilly about our heads.
When we had recovered ourselves we discovered that my action had had an undesired effect. That is to say, Earth had disappeared from the panel altogether! Determined to right this at once, I moved the lever in the opposite direction, having first ensured that we were both braced. This time, the ship moved sharply the other way, and although there was much noise and rattling of our possessions, I succeeded in returning Earth to our sight.
It took several more adjustments to the controls before I managed to place the image of Earth in the small central circle of the main grid. As I did this, the display of lights went out, and I felt that our craft was now set firmly on an Earthbound course.
In fact, I discovered that the projectile was wont to drift constantly from its path, and every day I had to make more corrections.
By this process of trial and error, I understood at last how the system of grids was intended to be used. The main, brighter grid indicated the actual destination of the craft, while the less brilliant, moving grid showed the intended destination. As this was always locked on the image of Earth, we were never in doubt as to the monsters’ plans.
Such moments of diversion, however, were the exception rather than the rule. Our days in the craft were dull and repetitive, and we soon adopted routines. We slept for as many hours as possible, and dawdled over our meals. We would take exercise by walking about the circumference of the hull, and when it came to attending to the controls would divert more energy and time than was actually necessary. Sometimes we became fractious, and then we would separate and stay at different parts of the compartment.
During one of these periods I returned to the problem of how to deal with the unwelcome occupants of the main hold.
Interfering with the monsters’ air-supply seemed to be the logical way of killing them, and in lieu of any substance which I knew to be poisonous to them, suffocation was the obvious expedient. With this in mind I spent the best part of one day exploring the various machines which were built into the hull.
I discovered much about the operation of the craft—for example, I found the location of the quasi-photographic instruments which delivered the pictures to our viewing panels, and I learnt that the craft’s directional changes were effected by means of steam expelled from a central heat-source, and ducted through the outer hull by means of an intricate system of pipes—but came no nearer to finding a solution. As far as I could tell, the air inside the craft was circulated from one unit, and that it served all parts of the ship simultaneously. In other words, to suffocate the monsters we should have to suffocate too.
vii
The nearer we came to Earth the more we were obliged to make corrections to our course. Twice or three times a day I would consult the forwards panel, and adjust the controls to bring the two grids once more into alignment. Earth was now large and clear in the picture, and Amelia and I would stand before it, watching our homeworld in silence. It glowed a brilliant blue and white, unspeakably beautiful. Sometimes we could see the moon beside it, showing, like Earth, as a slender and delicate crescent.
This was a sight which should have brought joy to our hearts, but whenever I stood at Amelia’s side and stared at this vision of celestial loveliness, I felt a tremendous sadness inside me. And whenever I operated the controls to bring us more accurately towards our destination, I felt stirrings of guilt and shame.
At first I could not understand this, and said nothing to Amelia. But as the days passed, and our world sped ever nearer, I identified my misgivings, and at last was able to speak of them to Amelia. Then it was that I found she too had been experiencing the same.
I said: “In a day or two we shall be landing on Earth. I am minded to aim the craft towards the deepest ocean, and be done with it.”
“If you did, I would not try to stop you,” she said.
“We cannot inflict these creatures on our world,” I went on. “We cannot shoulder that responsibility. If just one man or woman should die by these creatures’ machinations, then neither you nor I could ever face ourselves again.”
Amelia said: “But if we could escape the craft quickly enough to alert the authorities…”
“That is a chance we cannot take. We do not know our way out of this ship, and if the monsters are out before us then we would be too late. My dearest, we have to face up to the fact that you and I must be prepared to sacrifice ourselves.”
While we had been talking, I had turned on the control that produced the two grids across the panel. The secondary grid, showing our intended destination, lay over northern Europe. We could not see the precise place, for this part of the globe was obscured by white cloud. In England the day would be grey; perhaps it was raining.
“Is there nothing we can do?” Amelia said.
I stared gloomily at the screen. “Our actions are proscribed. As we have replaced the men who would have crewed this ship, we can only do what they would have done. That is to say, to bring the craft manually to the place already selected, by the monsters. If we follow the plan, we bring the craft down in the centre of the grid. Our only choice is whether or not we do that. I can allow the craft to pass by Earth entirely, or I can head the craft to a place where its occupants can do no damage.”
“You spoke of landing us in an ocean. Were you serious?”
“It is one course open to us,” I said. “Although you and I would surely die, we would effectively prevent the monsters from escaping.”
“I don’t want to die,” Amelia said, holding me tightly.
“Nor I. But do we have the right to inflict these monsters on our people?”
It was an agonizing subject, and neither of us knew the answers to the questions we raised. We stared at the image of our world for a few more minutes, then went to take a meal. Later, we were drawn again to the panels, over-awed by the responsibilities that had been thrust upon us.
On Earth, the clouds had moved away to the east, and we saw the shape of the British Isles lying in the blue seas. The central circle of the grid lay directly over England.
Amelia said, her voice strained: “Edward, we have the greatest army on Earth. Can we not trust them to deal with this menace?”
“They would be taken unawares. The responsibility is ours, Amelia, and we must not avoid it. I am prepared to die to save my world. Can I ask the same of you?”
It was a moment charged with emotion, and I found myself trembling.
Then Amelia glanced at the rearward panel, which, though dark, was an insistent reminder of the nine projectiles that followed us.
“Would false heroics save the world from those too?” she said.
viii
So it was that I continued to correct our course, and brought the main grid to bear on the green islands we loved so dearly.
We were about to go to sleep that night when a noise I had hoped never to hear again emanated from a metal grille in the bulkhead: it was the braying, screeching call of the monst
ers. One has often heard the idiom that one’s blood runs cold; in that moment I understood the truth of the cliché.
I left the hammock directly, and hurried through the passages to the sealed door of the monsters’ hold.
As soon as I slid back the metal plate I saw that the accursed beings were conscious. There were two directly in front of me, crawling awkwardly on their tentacles. I was satisfied to see that in the increased gravity (I had long since changed the spin of the ship in an attempt to approximate the gravity of Earth) their movements were more ponderous and ungainly. That was a hopeful sign, when all else seemed bleak, for with any luck they would find their extra weight on Earth a considerable disadvantage.
Amelia had followed me, and when I moved back from the door she too peered through the tiny window. I saw her shudder, and then she drew back.
“Is there nothing we can do to destroy them?” she said.
I looked at her, my expression perhaps revealing the unhappiness I felt.
“I think not,” I said.
When we returned to our compartment we discovered that one or more of the monsters was still trying to communicate with us. The braying echoed through the metal room.
“What do you think it is saying?” Amelia said.
“How can we tell?”
“But suppose we are to obey its instructions?”
“We have nothing to fear from them,” I said. “They can reach us no more than we can reach them.”
Even so, the hideous screeching was unpleasant to hear, and when it eventually stopped some fifteen minutes later we were both relieved. We returned to the hammock, and a few minutes later we were asleep.
The Space Machine Page 26