Amelia said, with unassailable logic: “They are conforming to a regular pattern, and our craft was the first piece in that pattern. Edward, I maintain that we are a part of the invasion.”
It was then that my secret could no longer be maintained. I took her into the passages that ran the length of the ship, and showed her what I had seen through the sliding metal panel. The monsters had not moved, still slumbering peacefully while their flight to Earth continued. Amelia took her turn at the hole in silence.
“When we arrive on Earth,” she said, “we will be obliged to act quickly. We must escape from the projectile at the earliest possible moment.”
“Unless we can destroy them before we land,” I said.
“Is there any way?”
“I have been trying to think. There is no way we can enter the hold.” I showed her how the hatch had been fused. “We could possibly devise some way of cutting off their supply of air.
“Or introducing to it some poison.”
I seized on this solution eagerly, for since I had made my discovery my fears had been growing about what these creatures could do on Earth. It was unimaginable that they could be allowed to do their Devil’s work! I had no idea how the air was circulated through the ship, but as my command of the controls was increasing so was my confidence, and I felt that this should not be impossible to solve.
I had said nothing to Amelia of the slaves in their compartment—for I was by now convinced that there were many aboard—but I had done her an injustice when anticipating her reaction.
That evening, Amelia said: “Where are the Martian slaves, Edward?”
Her question was so forthright that I did not know what to say.
“Are they in the compartment behind ours?” she went on.
“Yes,” I said. “But it has been sealed.”
“So there is no possibility of releasing them?”
“None that I know of,” I said.
We were both silent after this exchange, because the awfulness of the wretches’ prospects was unthinkable. Some time later, when I was on my own, I went to their hatch and tried again to see if it could be opened, but it was hopeless. As far as I can recall, neither Amelia nor I ever referred directly to the slaves again. For this, I at least was grateful.
v
On the fifth day of our voyage a fifth projectile was fired. By this time, Mars was distant on our rearwards panel, but we had little difficulty in seeing the cloud of white vapour.
On the sixth day I discovered a control attached to the screens which could enhance and enlarge the images. When midday came around we were able to see, in relatively dear detail, the firing of the sixth cylinder.
Four more days passed and, on each of them the mighty’ snow-cannon was fired, but on the eleventh day the volcano passed across the visible portion of Mars,. and no white cloud appeared. We watched until the volcano had passed beyond the terminator, but as far as we could tell no projectile was fired that day.
Nor was there on the day following. Indeed, after the tenth projectile no more were fired at all. Remembering those hundreds of gleaming craft lying at the base of the mountain, we could not believe that the monsters would call off their plans with so comparatively few missiles en route for the target. This did seem to be the case, though, for as the days passed we never abandoned our watch of the red planet but not once again did we see any sign of the cannon being fired.
Of course, we occupied much time in speculating as to why this should be so.
I advanced the theory that this was the monsters’ plan: that an advance guard of ten projectiles would invade and occupy an area of Earth, for after all they would have an armoury of at least fifty battle-machines with which to do this. For this reason I felt our watch should be maintained, arguing that more projectiles would soon be following.
Amelia was of a different mind. She saw the surcease in terms of a victory for the Martian humans’ revolution, that the people had broken through the monsters’ defence: and taken control.
In either event we had no way of verifying anything other than what we saw. The migration had effectively finished with ten projectiles, at least for the time being.
By this time we were many days into our voyage, and Mars itself was a small, glowing body many millions of miles behind us. Our focus of interest was moving from this, for now, in the forwards panel, we could see our homeworld looming towards us: a tiny crescent of light, so indescribably lovely and still.
vi
Asthe weeks passed I became more at home with the controls, feeling that I understood the function of most. I had even come to understand the device the Martians had called the target, and had realized that it was possibly the most important of all the controls.
I had learned to use this when viewing Earth through the forwards panel. It had been Amelia who had first pointed out our world: a clearly defined brilliance near the edge of the panel. Of course, we were both much affected by the sight, and the knowledge that every day carried us thousands of miles nearer to it was a source of steadily growing excitement. But as one day followed another, the image of our world slipped nearer and nearer to the edge of the display, until we realized that it could not be long before it vanished from our sight altogether. I adjusted the controls of the panel equipment to no avail.
Then, in desperation, Amelia suggested that I should turn on the illuminated grid that was projected across the panel. As I did this I saw that a second, more ghostly grid lay behind it. Unlike the main one, this had its central circle fixed on the image of our world. It was most uncanny … as if the device had a mind of its own.
At the same moment as the second grid appeared, several lights flashed on beneath the image. We could not understand their meaning, naturally enough, but the fact that my action had produced a response was significant in itself.
Amelia said: “I think it means we must steer the craft.”
“But it was aimed accurately from Mars.”
“Even so … it seems to me that we are no longer flying towards Earth.”
We argued a little longer, but at last I could no longer avoid the fact that the time had come for me to demonstrate my prowess as a driver. With Amelia’s encouragement I settled myself before the main driving lever, gripped it in both my hands, and moved it experimentally to one side.
Several things, happened at once.
The first was that a great noise and vibration echoed through the projectile. Another was that both Amelia and I were thrown to one side. And in addition everything in our compartment that was not secured flew willy-nilly about our heads.
When we had recovered ourselves we discovered that my action had had an undesired effect. That is to say, Earth had disappeared from the panel altogether! Determined to right this at once, I moved the lever in the opposite direction, having first ensured that we were both braced. This time, the ship moved sharply the other way, and although there was much noise and rattling of our possessions, I succeeded in returning Earth to our sight.
It took several more adjustments to the controls before I managed to place the image of Earth in the small central circle of the main grid. As I did this, the display of lights went out, and I felt that our craft was now set firmly on an Earthbound course.
In fact, I discovered that the projectile was wont to drift constantly from its path, and every day I had to make more corrections.
By this process of trial and error, I understood at last how the system of grids was intended to be used. The main, brighter grid indicated the actual destination of the craft, while the less brilliant, moving grid showed the intended destination. As this was always locked on the image of Earth, we were never in doubt as to the monsters’ plans.