Christopher Priest - The Space Machine

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.

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.

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 creature’s 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.

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.