Christopher Priest - The Space Machine

Standing there, undecided, I sensed the urgency of reaching the projectile before the trouble worsened.

“We had better wait,” Amelia said.

“I think we should go on,” I said quietly. “We will not be stopped wearing these uniforms.”

“What about Edwina?”

“She will have to stay here.”

However, in spite of my apparent resolution I was not confident As we watched, one of the battle-machines moved off to the side, its heat-cannon pivoting menacingly. With its dangling metal arms it reached into one of the near-by buildings, apparently feeling for anyone hiding within. After a few moments it moved off again, this time striding at a faster pace.

Then Amelia said: “Over there, Edward!”—

A Martian was signalling to us from one of the other buildings, waving his long arms. Casting a watchful glance at the machines, we hurried over to him and at once he and Edwina exchanged several words. I recognized him as one of the men we had met the day before.

Eventually, Edwina said: “He says that only drivers of the flying war-machines can go further. The two who showed you yesterday are waiting for you.”

Something about the way she said this aroused a faint suspicion, but for want of further evidence I could not say why.

“Are you to come with us?” said Amelia.

“No I stay to fight.”

“Then where are the others?” I said.

“At the flying war-machine.”

I took Amelia to one side. “What shall we do?”

“We must go on. If the revolution causes any more trouble, we might not be able to leave.”

“How do we know we are not walking into a trap?” I said.

“But who would lay it? If we cannot trust the people, then we are lost.”

“That is precisely my worry,” I said.

The man who had signalled to us had already disappeared into the building, and Edwina seemed to be on the point of running in after him. I looked over my shoulder at the monsters’ machines, but there appeared to have been no movement.

Amelia said “Good-bye, Edwina.”

She raised her hand, spreading her fingers, then the Martian girl did the same.

“Good-bye, Amelia,” she said, then turned her back and walked through the doorway.

“That was a cool farewell,” I said. “Considering you are the leader of the revolution.”

“I don’t understand, Edward.”

“Neither do I. I think we must get to the projectile without further delay.”

We approached the battle-machines with considerable trepidation, fearing the worst with every step. But we went unmolested, and soon we had passed beneath the high platforms and were walking up the extension towards the cannon-site.

A deep mistrust of the situation. was growing in me, and I was dreading the fact that soon we should have to pass beneath the scrutiny of the monsters who guarded the entrance. My feeling of unease was increased when, a few minutes later, we heard more explosions from the city, and saw several of the battle-machines dashing about the streets with their cannons flaring.

“I wonder,” I said, “if our part in the revolt is now suspected. Your young friend was remarkably reluctant to be with us.”

“She does not have one of these uniforms.”

“That’s true,” I said, but I was still not at ease.

The entrance to the cannon-site was nearly upon us, and the great sheds were looming up.

At the last moment, when we were no more than five yards from the monsters’ observation-seats, we saw one of the two young Martians I’d been with the previous day. We went directly to him. There was an empty vehicle by the roadway, and we went around the back of it with him.

Once away from the sight of the monster-creatures at the gate, he launched into a most expressive foray of sibilance and expository gestures.

“What’s he saying?” I said to Amelia.

“I haven’t the faintest notion.”

We waited until he had finished, and then he stared at us as if awaiting a response. He was about to start his tirade again, when Amelia indicated the cannon-site.

“May we go in?” she said, evidently working on the assumption that if he could speak his language to us, we could speak ours to him, but assisting him by pointing towards the site.

His reply was not understood.

“Do you think he said yes?” I said.

“There is only one way to tell.”

Amelia raised her hand to him, then walked towards the entrance. I followed, and we both glanced back to see if this action provoked a negative response. He appeared to be making no move to stop us, but raised his hand in greeting, and so we walked on.

Now determined to see this through, we were past the monsters’ observation panels almost before we realized it. However, a few paces further on a screech from one of the positions chilled our blood. We had been spotted.

We both halted, and at once I found I was trembling. Amelia had paled.

The screech came again, and was then repeated.

“Edward… we must walk on!”

“But we have been challenged!” I cried.

“We do not know what for. We can only walk on.”

So, expecting at best another bestial screech, or at worst to be smitten by the heat-beam, we stepped on towards the snow-cannon.

Miraculously, there was no further challenge.

We were now almost running, for our objective was in sight. We passed through the ranks of waiting projectiles, and headed for the breech of the mighty cannon. Amelia, whose first visit to the site this was, could hardly believe what she saw.

“There are so many!” she said, gasping with the exertion of hurrying up the gradient of the mountain slope.

“It is to be a full-scale invasion,” I said. “We cannot allow these monsters to attack Earth.”

During my visit the day before, the activities of the monsters had been confined to the area where the machines were assembled, and this store of gleaming projectiles had been left unattended. Now, though, there were the monsters and their vehicles all about. We hurried on, unchallenged.

There was no sign of any humans, although I had been told that by the time we entered the projectile our friends would be in charge of the device which fired the cannon. I hoped that word of our arrival had been passed, for I did not wish to wait too long inside the projectile itself.

The companionway was still in place, and I led Amelia up it to the entrance to the inner chamber. Such was our haste that when one of the monster-creatures by the base of the companionway uttered a series of modulated screeches, we paid no attention to it. We were now so close to our objective, so near to the instrument of our return to Earth, that we felt nothing could bar our way.

I stood back to allow Amelia to go first, but she pointed out that it would be sensible for me to lead. This I did, heading down that dark, frigid tunnel through the breech-block, away from the wan sunlight of Mars.

The hatch of the ship was open, and this time Amelia did go in before me. She stepped down the ramp into the heart of the projectile, while I attended to closing the hatch as I’d been shown. Now we were inside, away from the noises and enigmas of the Martian civilization, I suddenly felt very calm and purposeful.

This spacious interior, quiet, dimly lit, quite empty, was another world from that city and its beleaguered peoples; this craft, product of the most ruthless intellect in the Universe, was our salvation and home.

Once it would have been in the van of a terrible invasion of Earth; now, in the safe charge of Amelia and myself, it could become our world’s salvation. It was a prize of war, a war of which even now the peoples of Earth were quite unsuspecting.