There was a solution to this, and from the moment it occurred to me the simple audacity of it made it irresistible.
I had been aboard one of the projectiles; I had seen it in flight; I had examined its controls.
Amelia and I would steal one of the projectiles, and fly it ourselves to Earth!
v
We arrived in the city without being challenged, and were led through the streets by our Martian accomplices.
The sparseness of the population was not as evident here as it had been in Desolation City. There were fewer empty buildings, and the obvious military strength of the monster-creatures had averted any invasions. Another difference was that there were factories within the city itself—as well as in separate areas outside—for there was a smoky industrial pall that served to heighten my feelings of homesickness for London.
We had no time to see much of the city, for we were taken immediately to one of the dormitories. Here, in a small room at the rear, we met one of the main cells of the revolution.
As we entered, the Martians showed their enthusiasm by leaping up and down as before. I could not help but warm to these poor, enslaved people, and share their excitement as the overthrow of the monsters became ever a more realistic proposition.
We were treated as royalty is treated in England, and I realized that Amelia and I were acting regally. Our every response was eagerly awaited, and mute as we had to be, we smiled and nodded as one Martian after another explained to us, through Edwina, what his assigned task was to be.
From here we were taken to another place, and more of the same happened. It was almost exactly as I had described it to Amelia: she had catalysed the Martians to action, and set in motion a sequence of events she could no longer control.
I was becoming tired and impatient, and as we walked to inspect a third cell, I said to Amelia: “We are not spending our time well.”
“We must do as they wish. We owe them at least this.”
“I would like to see more of the city. We do not even know where the snow-cannon is to be found.”
In spite of the fact that we were with six Martians, each of whom was trying to speak to her through Edwina, Amelia expressed her feelings with a tired shrug.
“I cannot leave them now,” she said. “Perhaps you could go alone.”
“Then who would interpret for me?”
Edwina was tugging at Amelia’s hand, trying to show her the building to which we were presently walking and where, presumably, the next cell was concealed. Amelia dutifully smiled and nodded.
“We had best not separate,” she said. “But if you ask Edwina, she could find out what you want to know.”
A few moments later we entered the building, and in the darkened basement we were greeted by some forty enthusiastic Martians.
A little later I managed to take Edwina away from Amelia long enough to convey to her what I wanted. She seemed not interested, but passed on the message to one of the city-Martians present. He left the basement soon after, while we continued the inspection of our revolutionary troops.
vi
Just as we were readying ourselves to leave for the next port of call, my emissary returned, bringing with him two young Martian men dressed in the black uniforms of the men who drove the projectiles.
At the sight of them I was a little taken aback. Of all the humans I had met here, the men trained to fly the projectiles had seemed the closest to the monster-creatures, and were therefore the ones I had least expected to be trusted now the old order was about to be overthrown. But here the two men were, admitted to one of the revolutionary nerve-centres.
Suddenly, my idea became easier to put into effect. I had intended to gain entry to the snow-cannon, while Amelia and I were disguised, and attempt to work out the controls for myself. However, if I could communicate to these two what I wanted they could show me themselves how to operate the craft, or even come with us to Earth.
I said to Edwina: “I want you to ask these two men to take me to their flying war-machine, and show me how it is operated.”
She repeated my sentence to me, and when I had made sure she understood me correctly, she passed it on. One of the Martians replied.
“He wants to know where you are taking the craft,” said Edwina.
“Tell them that I wish to steal it from the monsters, and take it to the warm world.”
Edwina replied immediately: “Will you go alone, pale dwarf, or will Amelia go with you?”
“We will go together.”
Edwina’s response to this was not what I would have wished. She turned towards the revolutionaries, and embarked on a long speech, with much sibilance and waving arms. Before she had finished, about a dozen Martian men hurried towards me, took me by the arms and held me with my face pressing against the wall.
From the far side of the room, Amelia called: “What have you said now, Edward?”
vii
It took Amelia ten minutes to secure my release. In the meantime I suffered considerable discomfort, with both my arms twisted painfully behind my back. For all their frail appearance, the Martians were very strong.
When I was freed, Amelia and I went into a small room at the back, accompanied by two of the Martian men. In this they played unwittingly into our hands, for without Edwina they could not understand us, and it was to talk to Amelia that I wanted.
“Now please tell me what that was all about,” she said.
“I have worked out a new idea for our return to Earth I was trying to put it into effect, and the Martians misunderstood my motives.”
“Then what did you say?”
I outlined for her the essence of my plan to steal a projectile in advance of the monsters’ invasion.
“Could you drive such a machine?” she said when I had finished.
“I shouldn’t imagine there would be any difficulty. I have examined the controls. It would be a matter of a few minutes to familiarize myself.”
Amelia looked doubtful, but she said: “Even so, you have seen how the people react. They will not let me go with you. Does your plan allow for that?”
“You have already said that you will not stay here.”
“Of my own free will I would not.”
“Then we must somehow persuade them,” I said.
The two Martians guarding us were shifting restlessly. As I had been speaking I had laid my hand on Amelia’s arm, and at this they had started forward protectively.
“We had better return to the others,” Amelia said. “They do not trust you as it is.”
“We have resolved nothing,” I said.
“At this moment we have not. But if I intervene I think we may persuade them.”
I was learning at last to interpret the expressions of the Martians, and when we returned to the basement I sensed that the feeling had moved even further against me. Several people went forward to Amelia with their hands raised, and I was thrust aside. The two men who had been guarding us stayed with me, and I was forced to stand apart while Amelia was acclaimed possessively. Edwina was with her, and hasty words were exchanged for several minutes. In the uproar I could not hear what was being said.
I watched Amelia.
In the midst of the confusion she stayed placid and in control of her emotions, listening to Edwina’s translations, then waiting while more voices harangued her in that foreign sibilance. It was, in spite of the tension, a wonderful moment, because in that enforced objectivity I was able to see her from a standpoint that was at once more intimate and more distanced than I cared. We had been thrust into each other’s company by our adventures, and yet now we were being torn away from each other as a consequence. The fundamental alienness of these Martian people never seemed more affecting to me than at that moment.