Christopher Priest - The Space Machine

“It was nothing,” I said. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

“Listen.”

Some distance away, across the sleeping city, a policing-vehicle was driving quickly, its banshee siren howling. A moment later a second one started up, and passed within a few streets of where we lay.

Just then the room was lit for an instant with the most vivid and lurid flash of green. In its light I saw Amelia sitting up in her hammock, clutching her quilt around her. A second or two later we heard a tremendous explosion, somewhere beyond the city’s limits.

Amelia climbed with the usual difficulty from the hammock, and walked to the nearest window.

“Can you see anything?”

“I think there’s a fire,” she said. “It’s difficult to tell. There is something burning with a green light.”

I started to move from my hammock, for I wished to see this, but Amelia stopped me.

“Please don’t come to the window,” she said. “I am unclothed.”

“Then please put something on, for I wish to see what is happening.”

She turned and hurried towards where she placed her clothes at night, and as she did so the room was once more filled with brilliant green light. For a moment I caught an inadvertent glimpse of her, but managed to look away in time to spare her embarrassment. Two seconds later there was another loud explosion; this was either much closer or much larger, for the ground shook with the force of it.

Amelia said: “I have my chemise on, Edward. You may come to the window with me now.”

I normally slept wearing a pair of the Martian trouser-garments, and so climbed hastily from the hammock and joined her at the window. As she had said, there was an area of green light visible away towards the east. It was neither large nor bright, but it had an intensity about the centre of the glow that would indicate a fire. It was dimming as we watched it, but then came another explosion just beside it and I pulled Amelia away from the window. The blast effect was this time the greatest yet, and we began to grow frightened.

Amelia stood up to look through the window again, but I placed my arm around her shoulder and pulled her forcibly away.

Outside, there was the sound of more sirens, and then another flash of green light followed by a concussion.

“Go back to the hammocks, Amelia,” I said. “At least on those we will be shielded from the blast through the floor.”

To my surprise Amelia did not demur, but walked quickly towards the nearest hammock and climbed on. I took one more look in the direction of the explosions, staring past the watch-tower that stood outside our building and seeing the ever-spreading diffusion of green fire. Even as I looked there was another brilliant flare of green light, followed by the concussion, and so I hurried over to the hammocks.

Amelia was sitting up in the one I normally used.

“I think tonight I should like you to be with me,” she said, and her voice was trembling. I too felt a little shaken, for the force of those explosions was considerable, and although they were a good distance away were certainly greater than anything in my experience.

I could just make out her shape in the darkened room. I had been holding the edge of the hammock in my hand, and now Amelia reached forward and touched me. At that moment there was yet another flash, one far brighter than any of the others. This time the shock-wave, when it came, shook the very foundations of the building. With this, I threw aside my inhibitions, climbed on to the hammock, and wriggled under the quilt beside Amelia. At once her arms went around me, and for a moment I was able to forget about the mysterious explosions outside.

These continued, however, at irregular intervals for the best part of two hours, and as if they were provoked by the explosions the sound of the Martians’ vehicle sirens doubled and redoubled as one after another hurtled through the streets.

So the night passed, with neither of us sleeping. My attention was divided, partly between the unseen events outside and the precious closeness of Amelia beside me. I so loved her, and even such a temporary intimacy was without parallel to me.

At long last dawn came, and the sound of the sirens faded. The sun had been up for an hour before the last one was heard, but after that all was silent, and Amelia and I climbed from the hammock and dressed.

I walked to the window, and stared towards the east… but there was no sign of the source of the explosions, beyond a faint smudge of smoke drifting across the horizon. I was about to turn back and report this to Amelia when I noticed that the watch-tower outside our building had vanished during the night. Looking further along the street I saw that all the others, which were now such a familiar part of the city, had also gone.

After the bedlam of the night the city was unnaturally quiet, and so it was with quite understandable misgivings that we left the dormitory to investigate. If the atmosphere in the city had been in the past one of dreadful anticipation, then this stillness was like the approach of expected death. Desolation City was never a noisy place, but now it was empty and silent. We saw evidence of the night’s activity in the streets, in the form of heavy marks in the road-surface where one of the vehicles had taken a corner too fast, and outside one of the dormitory halls was a pile of spilled and abandoned vegetables.

Rendered uneasy by what we saw, I said to Amelia: “Do you think we should be out? Would we not be safer inside?”

“But we must discover what is going on.”

“Not at risk to ourselves.”

“My dear, we have nowhere to hide on this world,” she said.

We came at last to the building where we had once ascended to see the extent of the city. We agreed to climb to the roof, and survey the situation from there.

From the top the view told us little more than we already knew, for there was no sign of movement anywhere in the city. Then Amelia pointed to the east.

“So that is where the watch-towers have been taken!” she said.

Beyond the city’s protective dome we could just make out a cluster of the tall objects. If those were the towers then that would certainly account for their disappearance from the city. It was impossible to see how many were out there, but at a reasonable estimate it was certainly a hundred or more. They had been lined up in a defensive formation, placed between the city and where we had seen the explosions in the night.

“Edward, do you suppose there is a war going on here?”

“I think there must be. Certainly there has not been a happy atmosphere in the city.”

“But we have seen no soldiers.”

“Maybe we are to see some for the first time.”

I was in the lowest of spirits, sensing that at last we were going to be forced into accepting our plight. I saw at that moment no alternative to the prospect of becoming embroiled forever in Martian life. If a war it was for this city, then two aliens such as ourselves would soon be discovered. If we stayed in hiding we would doubtless be found, and, if so, would be taken for spies or infiltrators; We must, very soon, declare our selves to those in authority and become as one with the inhabitants here.

Seeing no better vantage point available to us, we agreed to stay where we were until the situation became clearer. Neither of us had any wish to explore further; death and destruction were in the winds.

We did not have long to wait… for even as we first saw the line of watch-towers defending the city the invasion, unbeknown to us, had already begun. What happened out there beyond the city’s dome must be a matter of conjecture, but having seen the aftermath I can say with some certainty that the first line of defence was a troop of Martians armed only with hand-weapons. These wretched men were soon overwhelmed, and those not killed fled to the temporary safety of the city. This much was happening even as we walked through the streets to our present vantage point.