Christopher Priest - The Space Machine

I looked at the slaves with me inside the compartment. The girl and one of the men were squatting on the floor,while a third spoke reassuringly to the man who had been struck with the whip. This last was in a bad way: he was trembling uncontrollably, and had lost the use of his facial muscles so that his eyes were slack, and saliva trickled from his mouth.

Returning my gaze to the displays I saw that with the turning on of the artificial lights, the main hold of the craft could now be seen. Here, in conditions which looked intolerably cramped, were the monster-creatures. I counted five of them, and each had already installed itself in a larger version of the transparent fabric tubes that I had already seen. Seeing these ghastly beings thus suspended was no less horrific for being slightly comical.

Looking at the other panels I saw that there was still considerable activity around the projectile. There seemed to be several hundred people outside, mostly slaves, and they were engaged in hauling away various pieces of heavy equipment which stood around the muzzle of the cannon.

Many minutes passed, with no apparent movement in the craft. The two men at the controls were busy checking their instruments. Then, unexpectedly, the whole projectile lurched, and looking at the various panels I saw that we were moving slowly backwards. Another panel showed the view at the rear of the craft: we were being propelled slowly up the ramp towards the muzzle of the cannon.

The legged vehicle attached to the nose of the craft appeared to be in control of this operation. As the shell itself was pushed into the mouth of the barrel I noticed two things more or less simultaneously. The first was that the temperature inside the craft immediately lowered, as if the metal of the barrel were somehow artificially cooled, and thus sucking the warmth from the projectile; the second was that on the forward-looking panel I saw great fountains of water spraying from the controlling vehicle. The collar from which the spray was shot was rotating about the main body of the vehicle, for the spray was circling. This much I saw as we entered the barrel, but after a few seconds we had been advanced so far that the controlling vehicle itself entered the barrel and so blocked the daylight.

Now, although there were a few electrical lights implanted in the walls of the cannon, very little could be seen on the panels. Faintly, though, beyond the metal hull of the projectile, I could hear the hiss of the water spraying about us.

The temperature inside the projectile continued to fall. Soon it seemed as cold as it had been that first night Amelia and I had spent in the desert, and had I not been long accustomed to this frozen and hostile world I should have thought I would surely die of frostbite. My teeth were beginning to chatter when I heard a sound I had learned to dread: the harsh grating of the monster-creatures’ voices, coming from a grille in the control cabin. Soon after this, I saw one of the men in charge pull a lever, and in a moment a draught of warmer air flowed through the compartment.

So our long passage down the barrel of the cannon continued. After the first moments, when the men in control were working furiously, there was not much for anyone to do but wait until the operation was completed. I passed the time by watching the monster-creatures in the hold: the one nearest me on the display-panel seemed to be staring directly at me with its cold, expressionless eyes.

The end of the operation, when it came, was without ceremony. We simply came to the deepest recess of the barrel—where there had already been placed a solid core of ice, blocking our way—and waited while the vehicle in control finished its water-spraying operation. Looking at the rearward display-panel I saw that the projectile had come to rest only inches from the core of ice.

From this moment, the remainder of the operation passed smoothly and quickly, The controlling vehicle separated from the projectile, and retreated quickly away up the barrel. Without the load of the craft the vehicle travelled much faster, and within a matter of minutes it had cleared the end of the barrel.

On the forward display-panel I could see up the entire length of the barrel, to a tiny point of daylight at the very end. The barrel between us and the daylight had been coated with a thick layer of ice.

Once more came the sound of the monster-creatures’ voices from the grille, and the four slaves I was with leapt to obey. They hastened towards the flexible tubes, helping the wounded man to his own. I saw that in the control cabin the other two men were climbing into the tubes that stood before the controls, and I realized that I too must obey.

Glancing round, I saw that one of the transparent tubes was placed in such a position that view of the control cabin could be maintained, but that one of the men slaves was already climbing into it. Not wishing to lose my advantageous view of the proceedings, I caught the man by his shoulder and waved my arms angrily. Without hesitation the slave cowered away from me, and moved to another tube.

I picked up Amelia’s bag and climbed into the tube through a fold in the fabric, wondering what I was in for. When I was inside the fabric hung loosely about me like a curtain. Air was ducted through it from above, so in spite of the feeling of total enclosure it was not unbearable.

My view was rather more restricted, but I could still see three of the displays: the ones facing fore and aft of, the projectile, and one of those facing to the side. This last, of course, was presently black, for it showed nothing but the wall of the barrel.

Quite unexpectedly there came a deep vibration in the projectile, and at the same moment I felt myself being tipped backwards. I tried to step back to maintain balance, but I was totally enclosed by the transparent fabric. Indeed, I was now understanding part of the function of this transparent tube, for as the muzzle of the cannon was being raised, the tube was tightening around me and so supporting me. The further the cannon barrel was raised the tighter the tube wrapped itself about me, to the point that as the tilting came to an end I was totally incapable of any movement at all. I was now lying with most of my weight supported by the tube, for although my feet were still touching the floor, the cannon had been raised until we were about forty-five degrees from horizontal.

No sooner had we come to rest than I saw a blaze of light shine out on the rearward-facing panel, and there was a tremendous jolt. A great and ineluctable pressure bore down on me, and the transparent tube tightened still more. Even so, the thrust of acceleration pressed against me as if with an immense hand.

After the first jolt there was no discernible sensation of motion apart from this pressure, for the ice had been laid with great precision and polished like a mirror. Looking at the rear ward display I saw only darkness, stabbed with four beams of white light; ahead, the point of daylight visible at the muzzle was approaching. At first its apparent approach was almost undetectable, but within a few seconds it was rushing towards us with ever-increasing velocity.

Then we were out of the barrel, and in the same instant the pressure of acceleration was gone, and bright pictures flooded to the three displays I could see.

In the rearward panel I could see for a few seconds a receding view of the cannon, a huge cloud of steam pouring from the muzzle; on the side panel I caught erratic glimpses of land and sky whirling about; on the forward display I could see only the deep blue of the sky.

Thinking that at last it would be safe to leave the protection of the fabric I tried to step out, but discovered that I was still firmly held. There was a terrible vertiginous sensation spinning my head, as if I were falling from a great height, and at last I experienced in full the terrors of helpless confinement; I was truly trapped in this projectile, incapable of movement, tumbling through the sky.