The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
Page 15
He grinned, spreading parchment lips to reveal a row of tiny white teeth. "Because in the war that is to come, I have already acquired many grand and innovative weapons from the most brilliant scientists of all nations of the world. However, I intend to wield the greatest weapon of all — the power of the League itself. And to that end, I set my wolf among you sheep. He will lead you far from green pastures."
"Growl," Gray said, then took another bite of his apple.
THIRTY THREE
The Nautilus
Listening to the recording in Nemo's stateroom, the members of the League looked at each other and recalled details of their interactions with Gray, as all the pieces clicked into place… like a bomb ready to detonate.
"Gray played like he was bored in his library, ready to turn us down, and then he claimed the battle with the Fantom's marksmen was just the spur he needed to change his mind." Quatermain put a hand to the aching shoulder wound. "He knew it was going to happen all along."
"So that was his plan if I hadn't shown up," Sawyer said, crossing his arms. "Shucks, I should have known better."
The gramophone recording continued to play. His voice sounded superior and dismissive. " — And all the while I would collect you, thanks to Mr. Gray. The parts of you that I need. Nemo's science… Skinner's skin sample."
Mina looked shocked as the realization dawned. "Magnesium phosphorus. Photographers' flash."
Nemos hands twitched as he remembered standing with Ishmael in the control room, sniffing samples of the powder they had found. "Yes, he must have photographed the details of my Nautilus."
Quatermain nodded, also remembering. "And in the ice room, where we kept Hyde chained, Skinner said that Gray had scratched him. Accidentally, he said. Must have used a little scraper to collect cells from the invisible man."
Jekyll blinked his saucerlike eyes, then swallowed hard in his scrawny throat. "That's what happened to the missing vial of elixir in my medical bag. Gray took it." He rubbed his temples, as if a massive migraine were growing behind his eyes. "He's stolen us. And we let him."
Then, with greatest triumph, Grays voice finished on the recording, "And, of course, dear Mina's blood."
She limited her reaction to a faint gasp as she recalled how he had handed her a glass of amontillado sherry, how the glass had so easily broken, slicing her palm, how Gray had been concerned and attentive, pressing his handkerchief to the oozing blood…
The League members remained stunned in the captain's stateroom, all of them exhibiting signs of dismay. Nemo summed up their reactions by announcing with cold threat, "And now we all have our sufficient reasons for wanting to kill him."
Bothered by his oversensitive ears and the incessant, increasing pain in the back of his skull, the fidgety Doctor Jekyll looked out a dim porthole; he saw much more than just deep water and the faint shadows of fish outside. He caught a reflection of Hyde's twisted and demonic face. In the image, his brutish alter ego clapped both spasming hands to his temples, pressing against his hairy ears, grimacing in agony. Inside Jekyll's head, Hyde roared. Turn it off, Henry. Turn it off
Lifting her head out of the feelings of betrayal and anger that Gray's words inspired, Mina noticed that Dr. Jekyll was standing away from the others, clamping his palms against his ears as if trying to keep his skull from flying apart. "Henry? Are you all right?"
Startled by her question, Jekyll turned away from the porthole, blinking. "My ears hurt. It goes through my whole skull." He tapped at his ears like a swimmer with water in them. "It's nothing," Jekyll said.
On the recording, the evil mastermind continued, "If you fail to save Venice, then I will get my war. And if you succeed — well, it's a small price to pay for giving Mr. Gray the luxury to go about his main task. War will come sooner or later, as inevitably as summer turns into autumn."
"M' sьre likes the sound of his own voice, doesn't he?" Sawyer said.
He continued, like a stern schoolteacher lecturing a group of disappointing students. "Now some of you— perhaps Quatermain, if he isn't dead, or maybe Skinner, who by all accounts is a sneaky, despicable chap — will pause to ask why I'm letting you know all this. What fool reveals his gambit before the game is over?"
His voice paused, as if giving them a chance to answer the gramophone disc. "Because, you see, it is over. For you. The alarm tone that revealed this recordings existence to you has automatically sounded when certain sensors determined that the Nautilus is now deep under the ocean."
"Under a great deal of pressure." Grays voice broke in. "Which is why I'll take the nautiloid, so that you'll follow and get yourselves into deep water. Perfectly predictable, perfectly boring."
Nemo and the others listened with dawning horror as M continued to relish his explanation.
"I'm sure you're aware, Nemo, how sound can affect certain crystals? Resonance frequencies? The pitch of this particular sound is higher than humans can hear. You wont even notice it. And all the while it continues to grow louder, out of range. More powerful… and more destructive."
Jekyll cringed from the reflection of an agonized Hyde in the porthole glass, can't bear it, Henry!Please!
"Dogs and lower animals can hear it with their base instincts. But not men. Hence, while I've rambled on and you all have given me your rapt attention, a secondary layer of inaudible sound is pounding against a sequence of delicate crystal sensors dotted about your vessel."
Gray's voice came again, sounding thoroughly entertained now. "Sensors that are attached to bombs. Bomb voyage!" The crude pun seemed incongruous from the erudite man.
Sawyer hurled the gramophone to the floor and stomped on the wax disk. But it was too late.
In the complex maze of ducts, conduits, pipes, and cabinets aboard the Nautilus, Dorian Gray had secreted three compact explosives, rigged to shimmering crystalline detectors. Without a complete overhaul, not even Ishmael would have found the bombs deep in the submarine's workings.
Now, although Sawyer had destroyed the player and the recording, the crystal sensors trembled, clicked — and activated the destructive devices.
A huge thunderclap of force, noise, and fire erupted from the rear midhull. The fireball split through the armored side of the Nautilus, punching out into the ocean and then imploding under massive water pressure. Metal and ceramic shattered and spewed from a huge hole in the curved wall.
A column of water hammered inward like liquid cannon fire, instantly filling the corridor. The shock wave wenched the underwater vessel back and forth like a piggy bank being shaken by a child. Glass shattered. Sparks flew.
Inside Nemo's stateroom, the members of the League were thrown off balance, careening into each other. The contour map that tracked the fleeing nautiloid was wrecked.
And then the second and third bombs exploded.
THIRTY FOUR
The Nautilus
Although the lower chamber was on fire, cold sea water rolled into the rear engine room like a wall. Smoke gushed from the site of the first explosion and poured through ruined turbines. Sparks flew, crackling in the pools and spray.
The metal-walled room filled rapidly with the pounding water. Engineers died screaming, some trying to flee, some giving their lives in attempts to save the undersea vessel.
Two crewmen dashed for the aft bulkhead door. They leaped through the door and tried to swing the heavy hatch shut, but the force of inrushing water swept the door open and smashed the men backward.
Responding together, the League members rushed onto the bridge, where crewmen struggled with the controls. More than ever, Nemo wished Ishmael were here.
"Midhull sealed, Captain. But the doors aren't holding!" a redheaded crewman shouted. "The water keeps rushing into the breach."
The Nautilus shuddered and began to sink. The deck; tilted at a steep backward angle. Charts and tools clattered off of shelves and tables, pitched aside as the wounded, tail-heavy submarine vessel sank.
"Nemo, we have to surface!" Quatermain
stumbled, fetched up against a bulkhead, and then grimaced at the renewed pain in his shoulder wound. "Get back up to the air."
"We've taken in too much water. The controls are no longer responding." Despite his own words, Nemo worked with the vessel's control panels, but the systems remained dark and inoperative.
The Nautilus sank through the water, like a shot pheasant tumbling out of the sky. Three jagged holes had been blown out though its stem. Oil trails and fire spilled out; fragments of ceramic armor flaked off like broken bits of eggshell.
Drenched and battered, Crewman Patel — the provisional replacement for the murdered Ishmael — rushed to the bridge, looking about for Nemo. "Primary engine room almost full, sir, and the aft bulkhead is still open! Pump valves are jammed."
"Seal it off," Nemo said. "That is the only way we can stabilize our descent."
"But there are crewmen inside there, Captain!" the acting first mate said. Patel's eyes were sunken, his face frantic. "We never let a man—"
"For the greater good, you must seal it! The pressure will crush us within minutes, if we don't all drown first."
Squaring his shoulders, Patel rushed out, past a shaken Jekyll who huddled in the corridor.
On the bridge, sparks sprayed, panels groaned, water spurted. Quatermain, Sawyer, and Mina hung on as the vessel pitched even further. The room was already thick with smoke, and the pressure outside squeezed the walls harder, like a giant crushing them in his fist.
"It'll be fine, Mina," Sawyer said, sidling closer, as if he could comfort her.
Mina Harker, though, was not interested in such reassurance. "I'm a scientist, young man — that makes me a realist." She turned to Nemo. "Can nothing save us?"
"Only a miracle," Nemo said.
The haggard Jekyll wrestled with his fears. He had already proved completely useless in Venice, and now he damned himself for not understanding the problem swiftly enough; Hyde's bestial senses had heard the deadly high-pitched tone, but his rational mind had not understood the treacherous sabotage in time. He could have prevented this disaster.
And now he meant to do something about it.
Inside him, the snarling presence of Hyde agreed. We can do it, Henry! Just let me! Let me!
In the corridor outside the control bridge, Jekyll whirled, saw Hyde's reflection in polished metal on the wall. "What are you on about?"
You know, Henry. We can do it. Together.
Shaking with inner turmoil, Jekyll raced from the bridge. Inside his mind, Edward Hyde roared with impatient glee.
When he finally reached the hatch of the primary engine room, Jekyll fought his way through spraying water and desperate crewmen. The corridor was almost vertical as he reached acting First Mate Patel, who was struggling to close the hatch.
"I'm going inside there." Jekyll's voice was a mere squeak amid the chaotic noise.
"But I've orders to close it!" said Patel. "You won't get back out!"
"Then do it! Don't worry about me." With surprising energy, the skinny doctor sprang into the waist-deep water filling the engine room. Three mangled crewmen were already dead inside, floating up against the walls. Sparks showered from the controls. Oily black smoke clung to the large pumping pistons.
"You'll never survive!"
"Maybe not." Jekyll still sloshed forward. "Or maybe we all will."
Patel realized that there was no time to evacuate anyone else. He cursed, then used all his strength to shoulder the hatch closed after the doctor had entered. He knew that the Nautilus itself had only a few more minutes before it imploded in the depths. He didn't suppose Jekyll would die much sooner than the rest of them…
Inside the engine room, only a hellish air-pocket of steam and fire remained above the water. Drowning crewmen splashed and struggled for last gasps. Only one man still worked at trying to restart the unsalvageable machinery.
Jekyll dragged himself along the riveted wall. With his free hand, he reached into his shirt pocket to remove a glass vial and yanked out the stopper with his teeth. For a split second he hesitated, wondering if this was worse than a simple death of drowning. His hand trembled. If he dropped the vial into the water, everything would be over…
Come on, Henry! Hyde was like a caged animal throwing himself against the bars. They need me. You need me!
Jekyll faltered a moment more, but the men kept screaming, the water continued to pour inside, and the Nautilus sank ever deeper. More people would die if he didn't do his part. Many more. He gulped the bitter potion.
Without waiting for the elixir to work, he took a deep breath, swelling his narrow chest. He dove under the murky water and swam down through floating debris, grabbing handholds on machinery to drag himself against the rush of water. His muscles were weak. His arms started to shake.
Then his body began to change: Bones lengthened and thickened, muscles swelled and bulged. His hair coarsened and sprouted black from his hands, knuckles, and neck. His head grew larger, more apelike. He convulsed and spasmed, clamping his lips shut to hold in the air. Each time he suffered through this, the transformation brought him more and more agony.
Finally, Jekyll could not help himself. He screamed underwater, but let out only a mouthful of bubbles as his back arched and limbs thrashed. His eyes began to bleed.
When his form bulked up to twice its normal size, his prim clothes tore apart and floated in rags from his body. Yet all the while, his determination held. He kept going downward, handhold to handhold, until at last he reached the bottom of the flooded engine room. The submarine vessel tilted at an ever steeper angle, sinking fast.
He had to reorient himself, looking through the watery gloom to find his destination.
Deep under the swelling cold water, when he reached the wide-open aft bulkhead door, it was Edward Hyde who grabbed hold. With a silent, slow-motion stroke, he swiped aside two drowning crewmen who were still struggling to seal the bulkhead with their last breaths.
Driven by instinct now, Hyde would have preferred to rip things apart, bend pipes and girders, smash open windows. But he knew that he had to close the breach and seal off the flood.
The hatch was heavy, forced aside by the continuing rush of water from the explosions gaping hole. The beast-man's gnarled and hairy hand gripped the edge of the metal door, and he strained to swing it shut, groaning and spitting bubbles from between his cracked and uneven teeth. Hyde strained to push the hatch, and finally slammed it shut like a man closing a door against a brisk wind. He twisted the wheel to seal the sturdy hatch in place. Safe.
But he could not go back to the surface yet. Dimly, he realized the Nautilus would continue sinking as long as its tail section was full of water.
Hyde found the jammed pump valves, tried to turn them so the pistons and gears could work again. The valves remained stuck, as if welded shut. That didn't stop him.
He roared, and the last trickles of air escaped from his mouth in a cloud of bubbles. His muscles bulged as he tried again. He hammered with his fist to loosen the valve, but the thick, cold sea water stole much of his strength. Hyde's vision grew dark, his anger increased, and he forced himself to think of the pump valve as an enemy to be defeated.
Then slowly, inch by inch, the valve wheel started to move, cranking clockwise. Snarling silently, dizzy from lack of oxygen, Hyde gave the lever another shove.
Suddenly the valve came free, spinning loose, as the undersea vessels huge vents opened, hurling the massive man away. Screaming turbines began to evacuate water from the chamber. He hooked his hands around a sturdy pipe and clung to it with all his remaining strength to keep from being sucked out.
Hyde worked his way upward as the water level inside the sealed chamber dropped. High above, he could see the silhouettes of struggling crewmen splashing about on the surface. He needed air.
Higher and higher he climbed, until finally his shaggy, misshapen head burst out into the air above the water. He spat spray and heaved a huge breath to fill his starved lungs.
THIRTY FIVE
The Nautilus
The wounded Nautilus rose under a dawn sky, breaking the surface of the choppy ocean with a clumsy gasp and a groan. Air hissed out, water sprayed, and the scarred and damaged submarine vessel sprawled on the sea as if exhausted. The slow chug of propellers moved the ship drunkenly forward, and the engines coughed.
Crewmen vented the vessels foul interior to release smoke and stagnant atmosphere, pumping in fresh air. They flung open the upper hatch as the engines and pumps continued to labor. Haunted-looking men pressed their heads out into the open breezes, amazed that they had lived to see the surface again.
In dire need of repairs, the wallowing Nautilus creaked and moaned on the high seas. And Nemo and his men were the only people on Earth with the knowledge and skills to fix the exotic vessel.
Taking shifts inside, the surviving crewmen moved about in a daze, replacing broken fittings, resetting furnishings, and mopping up the last standing pools of sea water that had flooded the corridors.
Quatermain, Sawyer, Nemo, and Mina met in Nemo's stateroom to discuss the larger implications of his schemes, and to make plans of their own. With the exception of the ever-optimistic young American, all of them wore an air of defeat. Seeking an outlet for his anger and helplessness, Quatermain took the damaged gramophone disc from the player, and made a point of grinding it under his heel.
Looking shell-shocked, a restored Dr. Jekyll was the last to arrive. After his exertions, the elixir had worn off, leaving him in his frail and fidgety body. But he had served his purpose well. Quatermain nodded to the doctor in silent acknowledgment of his valor.