John Wyndham - Stowaway to Mars

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Stowaway to Mars

John Wyndham

I Death of a Stranger

II Dale

III Repercussions

IV And Reactions

V Great Day

VI The Start

VII In Flight

VIII Joan

IX Identification

X Joan Tells

XI Half-Way

XII Speculation

XIII Arrival

XIV Burns Plays a Hand

XV And is Trumped

XVI Joan Starts a journey

XVII Making Acquaintances

XVIII Newcomers

XIX Vaygan

XX Karaminoff Makes Proposals

XXI Hanno

XXII A Siege is Raised

XXIII Expulsion

XXIV Finale

CHAPTER I

DEATH OF A STRANGER

JAKE REILLY, the night watchman, made his usual round without any

apprehension of danger. He was even yawning as he left the laboratory wing

and came into the main assembly hangar. For a moment he paused on the

threshold, looking at the structure in the centre of the floor. He wondered

vaguely how they were getting on with it. Mighty long job, building a thing like

that. It hadn't looked any different for months, as far as he could see.

But Jake could not see far. The towering object of his inspection was so

closely scaffolded that only here and there could the dim lights filter between

the poles to be reflected back from a polished metal surface.

'Workin' inside it mostly, now, I s'pose,' he told himself.

He switched on his lamp and let its white beam wander about inquisitively.

The floor plan of this, the central part of the building, was circular. Around the

walls lathes, power drills and other light machine tools were disposed at

intervals. The constructional work cut off his view of the opposite wall, and he

moved round it, conscientiously conducting his search. He let his light play

upwards, sweeping the narrow gallery which circled the wall, and noticing

that the doors giving upon it were all shut. He sent the beam still higher,

above the level of the dim, shaded lights, to the distant roof. There was a

criss-crossing of heavy girders up there, supporting huge pulley blocks. The

cables and chains depending from them came curving down, looped back out

of the way now on to iron hooks on the walls. He tilted his lamp so that its

bright circle ran down the curved metal side again.

'Like bein' inside a blessed gasholder, that's what it is,' he told himself, not for

the first time.

`Pile o' money that thing must've cost, and I don't s'pose it'll ever go.'

A sudden sound caused him to stiffen. Somewhere there had been a faint

clink of metal upon metal. He transferred his lamp to his left hand, and a

large, black, businesslike pistol suddenly appeared in his right. He swung the

light around, sweeping the dimmer parts of the place with its beam.

'Now then. 'Oo's there? Come out of it,' he ordered.

There was no answer. His voice boomed round the metal wall, slowly

diminishing into silence.

'Better come out quick. I got a gun,' Jake told the dimness.

He began to back towards the door where the alarm button was situated. No

good trying to get the man single handed in here. Might chase him round and

round that scaffolding for hours.

'Better come quiet, 'nless you want a bullet in you,' he said.

But still there was no reply. He was in reach of the alarm now. He hesitated.

It might have been only a rat. Better be sure than sorry, though. He hung the

lamp on the little finger of his pistol hand and reached, without turning, for the

switch.

There was a sudden 'phut' somewhere in the shadows. Jake shuddered

convulsively. The pistol and the lamp clattered together to the ground, and he

slumped on top of them.

A dark figure slipped from behind the scaffolding and ran across the floor. It

bent for a moment over the fallen watchman. Reassured, it dragged the body

aside, and laid it inconspicuously behind one of the lathes. Returning, it

kicked the lamp away, picked up the fallen pistol and slid it into its own

pocket. For some seconds the dark figure stood silent and motionless, then,

satisfied that there had been no alarm, it raised its arm and took steady aim

at the nearest of the dim lamps. Four times came the muffled 'phut' as of a

stick hitting a cushion, and each time it was followed by a not very different

sound as an electric globe collapsed into fragments. In the utter darkness

followed clicks which told of a new magazine sliding into the pistol. Then, with

a series of carefully shielded flashes, the intruder made his cautious way

towards the central scaffolding.

A door of the balcony suddenly opened, letting a fan of light into the

blackness.

'Hullo,' said a voice, 'what's happened to the lights? Where's that fool Reilly?

Reilly! Where the devil are you?' it bawled.

The figure on the floor below delayed only an instant, then it raised its pistol

against the man silhouetted in the doorway. Again came the muffled thud.

The man above disappeared, and the door slammed shut. The man with the

pistol muttered to himself as he continued on his way to the scaffolding.

He had barely reached it when a blaze of intense floodlighting threw every

detail of the place into view. He looked round wildly, dazzled by the sudden

glare, but he was still alone. Again he raised his pistol, training it on one of

the blinding floods. `phut' There went one, now for the next

But there was to be no next. The roar of an explosion, thunderous within the

metal walls, made him miss his aim. He turned swiftly. There was a second

roar.

The impact of a heavy bullet spun him round and sent him crashing headlong

against the foot of the scaffolding.

'Got him,' a voice announced.

The door in the gallery opened wide again.

'Damned lucky he didn't get you,' said another.

'Awkward angle for him. He hit the rail,' the first replied, calmly.

A babble of men's voices was heard approaching rapidly. A door on the

opposite side of the ground floor was thrown back to reveal a tousle headed,

sleepy eyed group. It was evident that the sound of shots had awakened

them, and they had delayed just long enough to slip greatcoats over their

pyjamas and to seize their weapons. One of the men in the gallery called

down:

'It's all right. We got him. He's round this side.'

The two of them made their way along the gallery to the staircase while the

newcomers crossed the floor. By the time they had descended there was a

small crowd round the body of the intruder. The man who was kneeling

beside it looked up.

'He's dead,' he said.

'How's that, Doctor? I didn't '

'No, you got him in the shoulder, he knocked his head against one of the

poles as he fell.'

'Damn. I'd have liked to have got something out of him. Anything to show who

he is?' He looked round at the assembled men. 'Where the devil's that Reilly

got to? Go and fetch him, someone.'

One of the group made off for the purpose. Close by the door he stopped at

the sight of afoot protruding from behind the lathe mounting. He looked more

closely, and called to the others.

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摘要：

StowawaytoMarsJohnWyndhamIDeathofaStrangerIIDaleIIIRepercussionsIVAndReactionsVGreatDayVITheStartVIIInFlightVIIIJoanIXIdentificationXJoanTellsXIHalf-WayXIISpeculationXIIIArrivalXIVBurnsPlaysaHandXVAndisTrumpedXVIJoanStartsajourneyXVIIMakingAcquaintancesXVIIINewcomersXIXVayganXXKaraminoffMakesProposa...

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