In addition, they had devised a highly efficient heat-source which was used to provide power for the cities (and which latterly, had been adapted to be come the heat-cannon), as well as the domes of electrical force which contained the atmosphere around the cities.
As time passed, however, some of the monster-creatures had despaired of finding a solution to the central problem. Others of their kind disagreed that the task was insurmountable, and maintained that however much the role of humans may have changed, their primary task was to continue.
After centuries of squabbling, the monster-creatures had started fighting amongst themselves, and the skirmishes continued until today. The wars were worsening, for now the humans themselves were an issue: as their numbers were being steadily depleted, so the monsters were becoming concerned about shortages of their own food.
The situation had resolved into two groups: the monsters who controlled this city—which was the largest on Mars—and who had convinced themselves that no solution to the eventual death of Mars was possible, and those of the other three cities—of which Desolation City was one—who were prepared to continue the quest. From the humans’ viewpoint, neither side had anything to commend it, for the slavery would continue whatever the outcome.
But at the present moment the monster-creatures of this city were vulnerable. They were preparing a migration to another planet, and in their preoccupation with this the rule of slavery was the weakest the Martian humans could remember. The migration was due to start within a few days, and as many of the monster-creatures would remain on Mars, the revolution must take place during the migration itself if it was to have any chance of success.
iii
As Amelia finished her account I found that my hands had started to tremble, and even in the customary coldness of the building I found that my face and hands were damp with perspiration. For many moments I could not say anything, as I tried to find a way of expressing the turbulence of my emotions.
In the end my words were plain.
I said: “Amelia, do you have any notion which planet it is these beings are intending to colonize?”
She gestured impatiently.
“’What does it matter?” she said. “while they are occupied with this, they are vulnerable to attack. If we miss this chance, we may never have another.”
I suddenly saw an aspect of Amelia I had not seen before. She, in her own way, had become a little ruthless. Then I thought again, and realized she seemed ruthless only because our own acceptance of our fate had destroyed her sense of perspective.
It was with love, then, that I said: “Amelia … are you now wholly Martian? Or do you fear what might happen if these monsters were to invade Earth?”
The perspective returned to her with the same shock as I myself had experienced. Her face became ashen and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. She gasped, and her fingers went to her lips. Abruptly, she pushed past me, went through the partition and ran across the main hall. As she reached the further wall, she covered her face with her hands and her shoulders shook as she wept.
iv
We passed a restless night, and in the morning set off, as planned, for the city.
Three Martians travelled with us: one was Edwina, for we still required an interpreter, and the other two were city-Martians, each brandishing an electrical whip. We had said nothing of our conversation to any of the Martians, and our plan was still ostensibly to visit several of the insurgents’ cells in the city.
In fact, I was much preoccupied with my own thoughts, and I knew Amelia was suffering a torment of conflicting loyalties. Our silence as the train moved steadily towards the city must have intrigued the Martians, because normally we both had much to say. Occasionally, Edwina would point out landmarks to us, but I at least could not summon much interest.
Before we had left the slave-camp, I had managed a few more words with Amelia in private.
“We must get back to Earth,” I said. “If these monsters land there is no telling what damage they might cause.”
“But what could we do to stop that?”
“You agree, though, that we must find a way to Earth?”
“Yes, of course. But how?”
“If they are travelling by projectile,” .I had said, “then we must somehow stow away. The journey will not take more than a day or two, and we could survive that long. Once we are on Earth we can alert the authorities.”
For a makeshift plan this was good enough, and Amelia had agreed with it in principle. Her main doubts, though, were else where.
“Edward,. I cannot just abandon these people now. I have encouraged them to revolt, and now I propose to leave them at the crucial moment.”
“I could leave you here with them,” I had said, with deliberate coldness.
“Oh no.” She had taken my hand then. “My loyalties are with Earth. It is simply that I have a responsibility here for what I have started.”
“Isn’t that at the centre of your dilemma?” I said. “You have started the revolution. You have been the necessary catalyst for the people. But it is their fight for freedom, not yours. In any event, you cannot direct an entire revolution alone, with an alien race you barely understand, in a language you do not speak. If the preparations are being made, and you have not yet seen most of them, already you have become little more than a figurehead.”
“I suppose so.”
She was still absorbed in thought, though, as we sat in the train, and I knew it was a decision she would have to make for herself.
The two Martian overseers were pointing proudly towards one of the industrial sites the train was passing. There seemed to be little activity here, for no smoke came from any of the chimneys. There were several of the battle-machines standing about, and we saw many legged vehicles. Edwina explained that it was here that sabotage had already been committed. There had been no reprisals, for the various acts had been made to appear accidental.
For my part, I had been taken by an enthralling notion, and was presently considering every aspect of it.
The revolution that meant so much to Amelia was of less concern to me, for it had been conceived and planned in my absence. I think, had I not heard of the monsters planned migration from Mars, that I too would have thrown myself into the cause and fought for it, and risked my life for it. But in all the weeks and months I had been on Mars, I had never lost an inner ache: the feeling of isolation, the sense of homesickness. I wanted desperately to return to my own world, or that part of it I knew as home.
I had been missing London—for all its crowds and noises and rank odours—and I had been hungering for the sight of greenery. There is nothing so beautiful as the English countryside in spring, and if in the past, I had taken it for granted, I knew that I could never do so again. This was a world of foreign colours: grey cities, rufous soil, scarlet vegetation. If there had been so much as one oak-tree, or one bumpy meadow, or one bank of wild flowers, I might at last have learned to live on Mars, but none of these existed.
That the monster-creatures had the means of reaching Earth was therefore of intense importance to me, for it provided a way back to our home.
I had proposed to Amelia that we stow away on one of their deadly projectiles, but this was a dangerous idea.
Quite apart from the fact that we might be discovered during the voyage, or that some other danger might appear, we would be arriving on Earth in the company of the most hostile and ruthless enemy mankind would have ever bad to face!
We did not know the monsters’ plans, but we had no reason to suppose that their mission was one of peace. Neither Amelia nor I had the right to participate in an invasion of Earth, how ever passive the part we played. Moreover, we had a bounden duty to warn the world of the Martians’ plans.