Captain Nemo

by Kevin J. Anderson

  The new armored vessel lay like a half-submerged predatory fish tied up against the pilings. Eyelike portholes made of thick glass stared from the control bridge within the bow. Overlapping armor plates reminded him of the scales of the shark he had fought while adrift on a raft of flotsam from the Coralie. Jagged fins like sawteeth lined the dorsal hull, the better for causing severe damage to wooden-keeled ships traversing the Suez.

  In secret, Nemo had named the boat the Nautilus, after Fulton’s turn-of-the-century design. In nature, the real nautilus was a cephalopod cased in a beautiful corkscrew shell, but the ethereal name could not disguise the fact that this was a powerfully armed ship of war, designed for causing death and destruction, nothing else.

  Workers and slaves had gathered from the barracks, and Nemo hoped Auda would also come out to join them. The ever-present guards stood watching as the Nautilus was prepared for her maiden voyage. Nemo had taken the craft up and down the cove several times, testing her movement and stability while submerged in the deepest water. His men had worked hard, and with care, proud of their accomplishment even as they hated Robur. They had learned their lesson from the first ruined prototype. Allowing themselves to be rushed had led to the death of poor Conseil.

  Nemo meant to avenge the hapless meteorologist . . . somehow. Robur had much to atone for.

  Torn by even greater political strife back in Ankara, Caliph Robur had threatened further executions. He insisted that Nemo’s team work to complete the construction as fast as humanly possible. Nemo held the stubborn man’s bloodlust at bay only by emphasizing how the loss of more good workers would cause further delays.

  Nemo had grown cold inside, feeling the guilt on his conscience, no matter how much Auda tried to soothe him. He had lost an innocent comrade because of this warlord’s mad ambitions. Any enthusiasm he’d had for the project had been killed with the same scimitar that had murdered Conseil. Even after such a long time at Rurapente, Nemo had never accepted his fate, had never believed in the caliph’s barbarous ambitions. But he would have to do something soon.

  The Nautilus functioned perfectly. Once Nemo had demonstrated the vessel’s capabilities, Robur could easily convince his sultan of its necessity. All political power would shift. With such a clear triumph over conservative Caliph Barbicane, Robur would once again become a favorite in the sultan’s court.

  Nemo knew the warlord would never keep his promises of rewarding his captive experts with freedom, though. He could see it in Robur’s dark, calculating eyes.

  His twenty-five remaining engineers were already aboard the Nautilus, a full crew. Food and supplies had been stored in the sub-marine’s chambers. The men had said farewell to their families, because Robur had announced his intention to explore the Mediterranean on this trial voyage. Accompanied by his most trusted guards, the caliph meant to be gone for a full week.

  At the edge of the docks, Caliph Robur sat on his stallion as if he intended to bring his big horse aboard the vessel. When the warlord saw Nemo walking toward the launch site under escort, he dismounted and handed the reins to a servant. He motioned to a troop of whiterobed guards who climbed through the hatch down into the armored sub-marine. Smiling above his pointed beard, Robur stood proudly beside Nemo, congratulating his chief engineer. Nemo wanted to spit at him.

  “We will now depart and explore the realm beneath the seas,” Robur shouted for all the gathered workers to hear. “We will journey into unknown territories, and when I return, all of the Ottoman Empire—in fact, the entire world—will know the power and terror of this invincible warship. The Turks shall once again be masters of the Mediterranean.”

  Nemo scanned the slaves and workers. Though they cheered on cue, many seemed agitated in a strange way. The warlord remained oblivious to the changed mood—Robur had never heeded the feelings or motivations of the people who were forced to serve him.

  Then, even in his red haze of resentment, a relieved grin broke across Nemo’s face as he recognized beautiful, long-haired Auda pushing through the crowd. He’d known she would come. His wife clutched little Jules’s hand in her own and made her way to the dock. In her other hand, she grasped a bouquet of flowers.

  “Wait!” she called in Turkish. “I must give these to my husband. It is a tradition from his home country.”

  The guards let her pass, and she hurried forward. After years of knowing Auda so well, Nemo could read the concern in her sepia eyes. “Take these flowers, my husband,” she said, using French this time. While Robur could still understand her, the guards could not. “Put them in your stateroom and think of me on your journey.”

  Then she bowed formally to the caliph himself, though her eyes remained as hard as flint. “It is my way of offering prayers to Allah,” she said. “A gift of beauty for my husband.”

  Robur gruffly nodded to her. “Take the flowers from your woman, Engineer, and get aboard. I am anxious to be off.”

  Concerned, Nemo took the bouquet from her trembling hand—perhaps she was afraid for him on this trial journey? But Auda had not shown such fear on his other test voyages. Why now?

  Impatient, Robur gestured for him to climb through the hatch into the vessel, then rapidly followed, scrambling down the metal rungs. The hatch clanged shut with a sound like a coffin lid closing.

  The Nautilus ’s front chamber consisted of a raised bridge deck made of anodized metal plates. Corrugated steel steps dropped down to the main control deck where workers manned the apparatus. Wide plate-glass portholes showed a forward view, as if through the eyes of a fish; side windows also looked out upon the undersea world.

  Within the main body of the sub-marine boat, private cabins for Nemo and the crew members lined the hull. A large sitting room and salon—which Robur intended to use as his throne room—filled the central section of the Nautilus. On the lower deck were supply closets and a dressing room complete with undersea suits and brass helmets, as well as a double-lock door to allow egress beneath the water. The engine room, with propulsion screws and pounding pistons, was crowded into the narrow aft chambers.

  Nemo deposited Auda’s flowers on the table in his cabin and hurried back to complete preparations for submerging. By now, his European crew was well practiced, and he merely gave the orders to reassure them. He took his formal place at the bridge controls. Robur stood next to him, domineering, as if he meant to take the helm as soon as he had observed Nemo’s piloting skills.

  The sub-marine’s engines started. Electricity pulsed through the motors; the crew tested the rudders. Finally, the ballast tanks were opened as the Nautilus drifted free of the dock.

  The metal deck hummed beneath them. Solid and sturdy, the undersea vessel showed no distress as water filled the tanks, and the ocean rose above the porthole windows until it swallowed the ridged upper hull. The Nautilus sank, and then moved forward.

  Away from direct sunlight, the bridge deck darkened. “Lights,” Nemo said. Brilliant cones of white illumination stabbed into the water as they proceeded through the mouth of the cove into the Mediterranean.

  Robur gasped with childlike glee at the new world beyond the thick portholes. He saw confused fish swimming about, rocky outcroppings far below on the ocean bed, waving tendrils of seaweed.

  “Marvelous, Engineer.” Robur startled him by clapping a firm hand on Nemo’s shoulder. “My ambitious dream has come true.”

  Nemo considered guiding them down the Turkish coast to where they would find the rusted wreckage of the gigantic cannon Columbiad —just to show the caliph evidence of his hubris and his technological folly.

  “You need never have doubted us,” he answered, trying hard to keep the vindictive tone out of his voice. The round, terrified face of slain Conseil swam in front of him.

  The caliph and two guards observed Nemo closely, studying the man’s every movement to learn how to pilot the Nautilus. Nemo wondered how soon the caliph would consider his crew obsolete—and what Robur would do to them then.

  They travel
ed all day, covering many leagues under the sea faster than any sailing ship. Propelled by the Nautilus ’s powerful engines and ignoring the vagaries of wind or water currents, they could choose their own direction.

  The muscular guards eventually relaxed. After all, where could Nemo and his men go? They could never escape. Robur soon insisted that he take the helm on his own, giving Nemo no choice but to relinquish command. He pretended to do so willingly, feigning weariness. “I’ll retire for a while and rest, Caliph.”

  In his cabin Nemo sat down, his thoughts in a turmoil. He stared at the bouquet Auda had insisted on giving him. He smiled at the thought of his wife and their boy Jules, fastening on the one shred of pleasure remaining to him. Although he had never surrendered the place in his heart he would always hold for Caroline, his first love, he adored Auda and their son. They had made him happy during what would otherwise have been an impossible time.

  He sniffed the flowers—and discovered something strange around a thick stem at the center. She had folded and wrapped a thin scrap of brown paper which matched the color of the twigs. Curious, Nemo unraveled the scrap and found that she had written him a note in tiny letters, painstakingly translated into French. He held his breath as he read, feeling cold horror grow within him.

  “Nemo, my love, Robur intends to kill you and your men on this voyage. He no longer has any use for you. He does not realize, though, that it is already too late for him. While he is gone during these seven days, my father’s troops will sweep down from the mountains and overthrow Rurapente. The sultan has issued an order for Robur’s execution.

  “Protect yourself. Stay on your guard and be prepared to fight when the caliph makes his move. My father has promised me safety—yes, all along I have been his spy at Rurapente, and I have sent regular reports via the shepherds on the plateau, who are my allies.

  “I will take Jules into isolation and protect the families of your men—but you must not return for at least a year. There is sure to be terrible bloodshed and political confusion. Because you have built this war vessel for an enemy of the sultan, your life may also be forfeit.

  “Do not worry about me, my husband. Just find me when the time is up. I shall wait for you, counting the days. I will make sure your son never forgets you, and when you return, you will receive the honor and glory you deserve.”

  Nemo reread the letter through a hot haze of betrayal. He had expected treachery from Caliph Robur, and he vowed again that the evil warlord would not succeed in his mad goals. Robur represented the worst of mankind.

  Grim and determined, Nemo knew he would have to rally his crew. They must find a way to outwit the caliph’s murderous guards.

  When he felt ready to return to the bridge, he looked down and discovered that in his cold fury, he had crushed the delicate flowers in his hands.

  VIII

  Like a metal shark, the Nautilus glided through the Mediterranean. The vessel cruised over ribbony masses of coral and underwater forests of seaweed. Schools of silvery fish flitted through the glare of the dazzling front lights. The captive crew watched for legendary mer-people, marvelous sunken cities, or frightening sea monsters.

  Knowing the death sentence Robur had secretly pronounced for them, however, Nemo could see no beauty there.

  Seeing that the burly guards were occupied and complacent, Nemo took aside Cyrus Harding, whom he had named as his second-in-command, and quietly told the English boatbuilder of Auda’s warning. Then, speaking a polyglot of French, English, and Italian, word passed among the captive crew. Now vigilant, they began making plans for their defense against Robur’s betrayal.

  Since the senseless execution of poor Conseil, the men had been eager to strike back against the bloodthirsty warlord. . . .

  As they journeyed for days, Nemo stood at the helm, silently aware of Caliph Robur and his murderous guards. He watched the caliph’s narrow face for any sign of impending treachery. Robur seemed to grow more eager, his motions impatient, as he demanded that Nemo show him every control of the undersea boat. He overheard two guards whispering in Turkish, confident their language could not be understood, as they caressed their scimitar hilts and chuckled about “the true uses of steel.”

  By the caliph’s command, Nemo guided the Nautilus south, following the coast of Lebanon toward Egypt. Robur grew agitated and then smugly satisfied, when they reached the northern Egyptian coast. Though de Lesseps’s massive excavation of the Suez Canal had already been under way for two years, the French engineer had fallen behind schedule.

  Now, the Nautilus cruised up and down the coast, watching the trawlers and dredging ships. Silt from the gargantuan project had turned the water murky. Everyone aboard could see that this supposed threat to the Ottoman Empire would not be completed for many years. Caliph Robur had imagined the speed at which this entire “emergency” would develop.

  One by one Nemo’s crew stared out the window at the embarrassingly incomplete trench. Then, with barely concealed bitterness, they returned to their duties tending the sub-marine. Conseil had been slain for no purpose. Nemo knew what he had to do. He made signals to his men and held brief whispered conversations with a few, who then spread word to the others. He had stalled long enough. It was time for revenge.

  Nemo prepared to fight Caliph Robur and his men to the death.

  Turning northward, they headed across deep water toward the Aegean Sea. Beneath the surface, gigantic underwater mountains rose from the sea floor to form numerous sunwashed islands. Crevasses split their steep sides, filled with colorful fishes that flitted away from the sub-marine’s brilliant light.

  High above, fishing boats and oyster divers went about their daily routines.

  After four days, the tension of wondering when Robur would make his move had reached a peak for Nemo and his men. When the crew finished morning operations, the caliph, resplendent in green turban and brilliant cape, turned to Nemo. “Engineer, I have seen everything this sub-marine boat can do, and it has performed flawlessly. Your work is at last complete.” He glanced meaningfully at his nearest guards; their fingers shifted toward the hilts of their scimitars. “Now it is time—”

  Nemo was ready for him, though. “Oh, not entirely, Caliph.” He held up his hand and feigned a smile. “I have kept one important and marvelous thing until the end. A special surprise for you.” Robur scowled, but Nemo offered his most disarming smile, hiding an automatic expression of hatred for the man. “Come, you must see for yourself.”

  Forcing himself to appear calm, he led the warlord to a closet, which he opened to reveal five diving suits. The bronze helmets were reinforced to hold air pressure and fitted with a thick glass viewplate. The garment itself was leather and canvas, coated with gutta percha to make it watertight; all the seams were shellacked.

  “You have not yet walked on the bottom of the ocean, Caliph. This is the final honor reserved for you: to set foot where no other man, not even your sultan, has gone.” By appealing to Robur’s pride, Nemo knew the decision was foreordained. “Surely you cannot pass up this miracle? We have enough time.”

  Robur studied the brass helmets, air tubes, and metal tanks. After a moment’s hesitation he stroked his black beard. “Yes, we shall do that.”

  Then he glared at Nemo. “And you will accompany me, Engineer, to ensure that there is no danger.”

  “Why should I wish to harm you, Caliph? Will you not soon reward us for the excellent job we have done?” He studiously looked away from the burly guards. “However, it would be best if I bring one of my men along—to assist in case of any technical emergency.”

  Robur’s brows knitted in concern beneath his turban. “Then I will take one of my guards, as well.” Nemo shrugged, suppressing a smile. These bald, muscular guards had never fought with anything but a scimitar: they would be completely helpless under the sea.

  He trusted Cyrus Harding most among his men, but he would need his second-in-command on board to handle the other part of the plan. Instead, he cho
se as his companion the German/Sardinian Liedenbrock. “Ach! This should be a fine expedition. And eventful, I hope.” He and Liedenbrock looked at each other, and understanding flashed between them. Both knew how much was at stake here. They could not hesitate.

  “When we return, Engineer, I will finally set you and all your men free,” the caliph said, removing his green turban so that he could wear the reinforced bronze helmet. “Now help me into this suit.”

  Not believing him for an instant, Nemo lowered the sturdy metal covering on Robur’s head, sealing the brass collar into its padded gasket. Robur’s anxious guards watched. Nemo made no threatening moves as he secured the chest and leg fastenings on the warlord’s diving suit, then attached an air hose to the tank of compressed air developed by Conseil before his execution.

  Nemo and Liedenbrock donned their own suits, while others assisted the cumbersome guard, forcing him to leave his curved sword behind. The muscular man did not understand why he couldn’t carry the blade inside his heavy, waterproof suit. The impatient caliph commanded him to cooperate so they could go outside and walk on the ocean floor.

  Leaving the rest of the Nautilus crew with the remainder of the white-clad guards, the four suited men stood inside the small, double-walled exit chamber. Nemo grasped a long, barbed spear from a rack on the wall. In his heavy suit the caliph’s guard moved clumsily to grab the weapon away from him. Robur’s helmet plate opened. “What is the meaning of taking this weapon, Engineer?”

  “We must defend ourselves, Caliph,” Nemo said in an innocent voice. “We are entering unexplored territory. We do not know what dangers may wait for us beneath the sea. Is it not better to be prepared, than to be slaughtered by a man-eating fish?” He looked intent, making certain he increased the uneasy guard’s fear. “Or perhaps a sea monster?”

  The caliph grumbled, “Very well, but my guard will carry the weapon himself. Now, let us be off so I can experience the last of the Nautilus ’s wonders.”