"So it was, that a Martian cylinder was found. Cold, un-stirring, buried deep in the rubble of the Welsh mountain it had crashed into. The Astronomer, Ogilvy was summoned=commanded to find out everything about this particular cylinder, as so different it was to all other Martian projectiles that had invaded our planet. It had remained silent, unmoving, entombed deep in a layer of dust and rock, with its primary screw cap still in place...

Chapter 1

1913

The terror of the coming of the Martians was all but a distant memory, a bad dream that had faded with time. Amid the tinkling of the tea cups and the boiling of the kettle, I sat contented as I finished my breakfast with Laura. Unfolding the Daily Chronicle, I read and realised to my horror, the discovery of a Martian cylinder. It had been found complete, intact, and as yet unopened, in a remote region of Wales and carefully transported to London. I thought then, of my wife's fortunate escape from the town of Leatherhead, just before a lone Martian fighting machine descended upon it with a heat ray. My stomach began to churn and to knot with a sickly unease and I knew for certain that my breakfast was over.

The very thought that I could encounter a living Martian again was awful, the worst possible news I could ever imagine. This would herald nothing but chaos, tremendous hardship and the likelihood of death. I glanced at Laura momentarily. She silently sipped her tea from across the table, still gently waking up it seemed, blissfully unaware of any renewed Martian threat, just as I had been only precious moments before. The very idea that my wife, sitting here with me now so safe, cosy in her dressing gown, could shortly be struggling again for her own survival against the elements and Martian monsters, was unthinkable. And yet, less than thirty miles away, hostile Martians, still very much alive, could be lurking in the newly-found projectile, ten years or so since their arrival on this planet. I could not comprehend why Ogilvy had brought the Martian projectile back with him, and so recklessly placed it on the outskirts of London in his exhibition. It made no sense. Surely it would have been far safer and less of a risk, to have examined the projectile where it was found in the sparse wilderness of Wales?

I knew then I had to go to London, to Crystal Palace, to find out more and to be there when they opened up the alien cylinder."