The Space Machine

i

We lay unconscious in the compartment for nine hours, oblivious, for the most part, of the terrible disorder our landing had thrown us into. Perhaps while we lay in this coma of exhaustion we were spared the worst effects of the experience, but what we endured was unpleasant enough.

The craft had not landed at an angle best suited to our convenience; because of the craft’s axial spin the actual position in relation to the ground had been a matter of chance, and that chance had left both the pressure-tubes and our hammock suspended on what now became the walls. Moreover, the craft had collided with the ground at a sharp angle, so that the force of gravity tumbled us into the nose of the projectile.

That gravity itself felt immense. My attempts to approximate Earth’s gravity by spinning the craft more quickly had been too conservative by far. After several months on Mars, and in the projectile, our normal weights felt intolerable.

As I have described, Amelia injured herself shortly before we started our landing, and this new fall had reopened the wound, and blood poured from her face more profusely than before. In addition, I had hit my head as we fell from the pressure-tubes.

Finally, and most unbearable of all, the interior of the craft was overwhelmingly hot and humid. Perhaps it had been the exhaust of the green fire that slowed our flight, or the friction of the Earth’s atmosphere, or most probably a combination of the two, but the metal of the hull and the air it contained, and everything within were heated to an insupportable level.

This was the degree of disorder in which we lay unconscious, and this was the kind of squalor to which I awoke.

ii

My first action was to turn to Amelia, who lay in a huddle across me. The bleeding from her injury had stopped of its own accord, but she was in a dreadful state; her face, hair and clothes were sticky with congealing blood. So still was she, and so quiet her breathing, that at first I was convinced she had died, and only when in a panic I shook her by the shoulders and slapped her face did she rouse.

We were lying in a shallow pool of water, which had gathered on the floor under the spray from a fractured pipe. This pool was very warm, for it had taken heat from the metal hull of the projectile, but the spray was as yet cool. I found Amelia’s bag, and took from it two of her towels. These I soaked in the spray, and washed her face and hands, dabbing gently at the open wound. As far as I could see, there was no fracture of her cranium, but the flesh of her forehead, just below her hairline, was torn and bruised.

She said nothing while I washed her, and seemed not to be in pain. She flinched only when I cleaned the wound.

“I must get you to a more comfortable position,” I said, gently.

She simply took my hand, and squeezed it affectionately.

“Can you talk?” I said.

She nodded, then said: “Edward, I love you.”

I kissed her, and she held me fondly against her. In spite of our dire circumstances I felt as if I had been relieved of a great weight; the tensions of the flight had dissipated.

“Do you feel well enough to move?” I said.

“I think so. I am a little unsteady.”

“I will support you,” I said.

I stood up first, feeling giddy, but I was able to balance myself by holding on to a part of the broken controls which now overhung us, and by extending a hand I helped Amelia to her feet. She was more shaken than I, so I put one arm around her waist. We moved further up the sloping floor of the projectile to a place where, although the gradient was steeper, at least there was somewhere dry and smooth to sit.

It was then that I took out my watch, and discovered that nine hours had passed since we crash-landed. What had the monsters done in the time we lay unconscious?!

iii

Feeling very sorry for ourselves, we sat and rested for several more minutes, but I was obsessed by a sense of urgency. We could not delay leaving the projectile any longer than absolutely necessary. For all we knew, the monsters might even now be marching from their hold and launching their invasion.

Immediate concerns were still to be considered, though. One was the enervating heat in which we were sitting. The very floor on which we rested was almost hotter than we could bear, and all around us the metal plates radiated suffocating warmth. The air was moist and sticky, and every breath we took seemed devoid of oxygen. Much of the food that had spilled was slowly rotting, and the stench was sickening.

I had already loosened my clothes, but as the heat showed no sign of abating it seemed wise to undress. Once Amelia had recovered her wits I suggested this, then helped her off with the black uniform. Underneath she still wore the ragged garment I had seen her in at the slave-camp. It was unrecognizable as the crisp white chemise it had once been.

I was better off, for beneath my uniform I still wore my combination underwear which, in spite of my various adventures, was not at all unpresentable.

After some consideration we agreed it would be better if I explored the present situation alone. We had no idea how active were the monsters, assuming that they had not been killed by the concussion, and that it would be safer if I were by myself. So, having made absolutely sure that Amelia was comfortable, I let myself out of the compartment and set about the climb through the passages that ran through the hull.

It will be recalled that the projectile was very long: it was certainly not much less than three hundred feet from stem to stern. During our flight through space, movement about the craft had been relatively simple, because the axial rotation provided one with an artificial floor. Now, however, the craft had buried itself in the soil of Earth, and seemed to be standing on its nose, so that I was forced to climb at a very steep angle. In the heat, which was, if anything, greater in this part of the hull, the only advantage I had was that I knew my way about.

In due course I came to the hatch that led into the slaves’ compartment. Here I paused to listen, but all was silent within. I climbed on after catching my breath, and eventually arrived at the hatch to the main hold.

I slid open the metal plate with some trepidation, knowing that the monsters were certainly awake and alert, but my caution was in vain. There was no sign of the beasts within my view, but I knew they were present for I could hear the sound of their horrid, braying voices. Indeed, this noise was quite remarkable in its intensity, and I gathered that much was being discussed between the nauseous beings.

At last I moved on, climbing beyond the door to the very stern of the craft itself. Here I had hoped to find some way by which Amelia and I might leave the ship surreptitiously. (I knew that if all else failed I could operate the green blast in the way I had done in the smaller projectile, and so shift it from its landing-place, but it was crucial that the monsters should not suspect that we were not their regular crew.)

Unfortunately, my way was barred. This was the very end of the craft: the massive hatch by which the monsters themselves would exit. The fact that it was still closed was in itself hopeful: if we could. not leave by this way, then at least the monsters too were confined within.

Here I rested again, before making my descent. For a few moments I speculated about where I had landed the craft. If we had fallen in the centre of a city the violence of our landing would certainly have caused untold damage; this again would be a matter for chance, and here chance would be on our side. Much of England is sparsely built upon, and it was more than, likely we would have found open countryside. I could do no more than hope; I had enough on my conscience.

I could still hear the monsters beyond the inner hull wall, addressing each other in their disagreeable braying voices, and occasionally I could hear the sinister sound of metal being moved. In moments of silence, though, I fancied I could hear other noises, emanating from beyond the hull.

Our spectacular arrival would almost certainly have brought crowds to the projectile, and as I stood precariously just inside the main rear hatch, my fevered imagination summoned the notion that just a few yards from where I was there would be scores, perhaps hundreds, of people clustered about.

It was a poignant thought, for of all things I hungered to be reunited with my own kind.

A little later, when I thought more calmly, I realized that any crowd that might have gathered would be in dire danger from these monsters. How much more grimly optimistic it was to think that the monsters would emerge to a ring of rifle-barrels!

Even so, as I waited there I felt sure I could hear human voices outside the projectile, and I almost wept to think of them there.

At long last, realizing that there was nothing to be done for the moment, I went back the way I had come and returned to Amelia.

iv

A long time passed, in which there seemed to be no movement either by the monsters within the ship, or by the men whom I now presumed were outside. Every two or three hours I would ascend again through the passages, but the hatch remained firmly closed.

The conditions inside our compartment continued to deteriorate, although there was a slight drop in the temperature. The lights were still on, and air was circulating, but the food was decomposing quickly and the smell was abominable. Furthermore, water was still pouring in from the fractured pipe, and the lower parts of the compartment were deeply flooded.

We stayed quiet, not knowing if the monsters could hear us, and dreading the consequences if they should. However, they seemed busied about their own menacing affairs, for there was no decline in their noise whenever I listened by their hatch.

Hungry, tired, hot and frightened, we huddled together on the metal floor of the projectile, waiting for a chance to escape.

We must have dozed for a while, for I awoke suddenly with a sense that there was a different quality to our, surroundings. I glanced at my watch—which in lieu of a pocket in my combinations I had attached by its chain to a buttonhole—and saw that nearly twenty hours had elapsed since our arrival.

I woke Amelia, whose head rested on my shoulder.

“What is it?” she said.

“What can you smell?”

She sniffed exaggeratedly, wrinkling her nose.

“Something is burning,” I said.

“Yes,” Amelia said, then cried it aloud: “Yes! I can smell wood-smoke!”

We were overcome with excitement and emotion, for no more homely smell could be imagined.

“The hatch,” I said urgently. “It’s open at last!”

Amelia was already on her feet. “Come on, Edward! Before it’s too late!”

I took her hand-bag, and led her up the sloping floor to the passage. I allowed her to go first, reasoning that I would then be below her if she fell. We climbed slowly, weakened by our ordeal… but we were climbing for the last time, out of the hell of the Martian projectile, towards our freedom.

v

Sensing danger, we stopped a few yards short of the end of the passage, and stared up at the sky.

It was a deep blue; it was not at all like the Martian sky, but a cool and tranquil blue, the sort that one rejoices to see at the end of a hot summer’s day. There were wisps of cirrus cloud, high and peaceful, still touched with the red of sunset. Lower down, though, thick clouds of smoke rolled by, heady with the smell of burning vegetation.

“Shall we go on?” Amelia said, whispering.

“I feel uneasy,” I said. “I had expected there would be many people about. It’s too quiet.”

Then, belying my words, there was a resounding clatter of metal, and I saw a brilliant flash of green.

“Are the monsters out already?” said Amelia.

“I shall have to look. Stay here, and don’t make a sound.”

“You aren’t leaving me?” There was an edge to her voice, making her words sound tense and brittle.

“I’m just going to the end,” I said. “We must see what is happening.”

“Be careful, Edward. Don’t be noticed.”

I passed her the hand-bag, then crawled on up. I was in a turmoil of sensations, some of them internal ones, like fright and trepidation, but others were external. I knew that I was breathing the air of Earth, smelling the soil of England.

At last I came to the lip, and lay low against the metal floor. I pulled myself forward until just my eyes peered out into the evening light. There, in the vast pit thrown up by our violent landing, I saw a sight that filled me with dread and terror.

Immediately beneath the circular end of the projectile was the discarded hatch. This was a huge disk of metal, some eighty feet in diameter. It had once been the very bulkhead which had withstood the blast of our launch, but now, unscrewed from within, and dropped to the sandy floor, it lay, its use finished.

Beyond it, the Martian monsters had already started their work of assembling their devilish machinery.

All five of the brutes were out of the craft, and they worked in a frenzy of activity. Two of them were painstakingly attaching a leg to one of the battle-machines, which squatted a short distance from where I lay. I saw that it was not yet ready for use, for its other two legs were telescoped so that the platform was no more than a few feet from the ground. Two other monsters worked beside the platform, but each of these was inside a small legged vehicle, with mechanical arms supporting the bulk of the tripod while shorter extensions hammered at the metal plates. With every blow there was a bright flash of green light, and an eerie smoke, yellow and green combined, drifted away on the breeze.

The fifth monster was taking no part in this activity.

It squatted on the flat surface of the discarded hatch, just a few feet from me. Here a heat-cannon had been mounted in a metal structure so that its barrel pointed directly upwards. Above the support was a long, telescopic mounting, at the top of which was a parabolic mirror some two feet in diameter. This was presently being rotated by the monster, which pressed one of its bland, saucer-like eyes to a sighting instrument. Even as I watched, the monster jerked spasmically in hatred, and a pale, deathly beam—clearly visible in Earth’s denser air—swept out over the rim of the pit.

In the distance I heard a confusion of shouts, and heard the crackle of burning timber and vegetation.

I ducked down for a few seconds, unable to participate in even this passive way; I felt that by inaction I became a party to slaughter.

That this was not the first time the beam had been used was amply evidenced, for when I looked again across the pit I noticed that along one edge were the charred bodies of several people. I did not know why the people had been by the pit when the monsters struck, but it seemed certain that now the monsters were keeping further intruders away while the machines were assembled.

The parabolic mirror continued to rotate above the rim of the pit, but while I watched the heat-beam was not used again.

I turned my attention to the monsters themselves. I saw, with horror, that the increased gravity of Earth had wrought gross distortions to their appearance. I have already noted how soft were the bodies of these execrable beings; with the increased pressure on them, the bladder-like bodies became distended and flattened. The one nearest to me seemed to have grown by about fifty percent, which is to say it was now six or seven feet long. Its tentacles were no longer, but they too were being flattened by the pressure and seemed more than ever snake-like. The face too had altered. Although the eyes—always the most prominent feature—remained unmarked, the beak-like mouth had developed a noticeable V-shape, and the creatures’ breathing was more laboured. A viscous saliva dribbled continually from their mouths.

I had never been able to see these monsters with feelings less than loathing, and seeing them in this new aspect I could hardly control myself. I allowed myself to slip back from my vantage-point, and lay trembling for several minutes.

When I had recovered my composure, I crawled back to where Amelia was waiting, and in a hoarse whisper managed to relate what I had seen.

“I must see for myself,” Amelia said, preparing to make her own way to the end of the passage.

“No,” I said, holding her arm. “It’s too dangerous. If you were seen—”

“Then the same will happen to me that would have happened to you.” Amelia freed herself from me, and climbed slowly up the steep passageway. I watched in agonized silence as she reached the end, and peered out into the pit.

She was there for several minutes, but at last she returned safely. Her face was pale.

She said: “Edward, once they have assembled that machine there will be no stopping them.”

“They have four more waiting to be assembled,” I said.

“We must somehow alert the authorities.”

“But we cannot move from here! You have seen the slaughter in the pit. Once we show ourselves we will be as good as dead.”

“We have to do something.”

I thought for a few minutes. Obviously, the police and Army could not be unaware that the arrival of this projectile presented a terrible threat. What we needed to do now was not alert the authorities, but to apprise them of the extent of the threat. They could have no notion that another nine projectiles were flying towards Earth at this very moment.

I was trying to stay calm. I could not see that the Army would be helpless against these monsters. Any mortal being that could die by the knife could be disposed of as easily with bullets or shells. The heat-beam was a terrifying and deadly weapon, but it did not make the Martians invulnerable. Further weighing against the invaders was the fact of our Earthly gravity. The battle-machines were all-powerful in the light gravity and thin air of Mars; would they be so agile or dangerous here on Earth?

A little later I crawled again to the end of the passage, hoping that under the cover of darkness Amelia and I would be able to slip away.

Night had indeed fallen, and any moonlight there might have been was obscured by the thick clouds of smoke that drifted from the burning heath, but the Martians worked on through the night, with great floodlamps surrounding the machines. The first battle-machine was evidently completed, for it stood, on its telescoped legs, at the far end of the pit. Meanwhile, the components of a second were being taken from the hold.

I stayed at the vantage-point for a long time, and after a while Amelia joined me. The Martian monsters did not so much as look our way even once, and so we were able to watch their preparations undisturbed.

The monsters paused in their work only once. That was when, in the darkest part of the night, and exactly twenty-four hours after our own arrival, a second projectile roared overhead in a blaze of brilliant green. It landed with a shattering explosion no more than two miles away.

At this, Amelia took my hand, and I held her head against my chest while she sobbed quietly.

vi

For the rest of that night and for most of the next day we were forced to stay in hiding inside the projectile. Sometimes we dozed, sometimes we crawled to the end of the passage to see if escape was possible, but for most of the time we crouched silently and fearfully in an uncomfortable corner of the passage.

It was unpleasant to realize that events were already beyond our control. We had been reduced to spectators, privy to the war-preparations of an implacable enemy. Moreover, we were much exercised by the knowledge that we sat in some corner of England, surrounded by familiar sights, people, language and customs, and yet were obliged by circumstances to huddle inside an artifact alien to our world.

Some time after midday, the first sign that the military forces were responding came in the form of distant sounds of artillery. The shells exploded a mile or two away, and we understood at once what must be happening. Clearly, the Army was shelling the second projectile before its grisly occupants could escape.

The Martians we were watching responded to this challenge at once. At the first sounds of the explosions, one of the monsters went to the battle-machine first assembled and climbed into it.

The machine set off at once, its legs groaning under the strain of the extra gravity and emitting several flashes of green from the joints. I noticed that the platform was not raised to its full height, but crawled along just above the ground like an iron tortoise.

We knew that if the second pit was being shelled then ours would be too, and so Amelia and I returned to the deeper recesses of the projectile, hoping that the hull would be strong enough to withstand explosions. The distant shelling continued for about half an hour, but eventually halted.

There followed a long period of silence, and we judged it safe to return to the end of the passage to see what the Martians were now doing.

Their frenzied activity continued. The battle-machine that had left the pit had not returned, but of the remaining four, three were standing by ready for use, and the last was being assembled. We watched this for about an hour, and just as we were about to return to our hiding-place to take a rest, there came a flurry of explosions all about the pit It was our turn to be shelled!

Once again the Martians responded instantly. Three of the monstrous brutes hurried to the completed battle-machines—their bodies were already adapting to the stresses of our world! -and mounted the platforms. The fourth, sitting inside one of the assembly vehicles, continued stoically with its work on the last battle-machine.

Meanwhile, the shells continued to fall with varying degrees of accuracy; none fell directly into the pit, but some were close. enough to send grit and sand flying about.

With their Martian drivers aboard, the three battle-machines came dramatically to life. With appalling speed the platforms were raised to their full one hundred feet height, the legs struck out up the sides of the pit, and wheeling around, the deadly devices went their separate ways, the heat-cannons already raised for action. In less than thirty seconds of the first shells exploding around us, the three battle-machines had gone: one towards the south, one to the north-west, and the last in the direction of the second projectile.

The last Martian monster worked hurriedly on its own tripod; this creature alone now stood between us and freedom.

A shell exploded nearby: the closest yet. The blast scorched our faces, and we fell back into the passage.

When I could again summon enough courage to look out I saw that the Martian continued its work, untroubled by the shelling. It was certainly the behaviour of a soldier under fire; it knew that it risked death but was prepared to confront it, while it readied its own counterattack.

The shelling lasted for ten minutes and in all that time no hits were scored. Then, with great suddenness, the firing halted and we guessed that the Martians had silenced the emplacement.

In the uncanny silence that followed, the Martian continued its work. At last it was finished. The hideous creature climbed into its platform, extended the legs to their full height, then turned the craft southwards and was soon lost to sight.

Without further delay we took the opportunity so presented to us I jumped down to the sandly soil, landing awkwardly and heavily, then held out my arms to catch Amelia as she jumped.

We looked neither to right nor left, but scrambled up the loose soil of the pit walls, and hurried away in the direction no machine had so far travelled: towards the north. It was a hot, sultry evening, with dark banks of cloud building up in the west. A storm was brewing, but that was not the reason no bird sang, no animal moved. The heath was dead: it was blackened with fire, littered with the wreckage of vehicles and the corpses of both horse and man.