The Nautilus Sanction

6

After eating, they toured the Soviet Vostochnaya Slava, renamed the Nautilus by Drakov. It was a huge vessel, aptly deserving of its original name, which translated to “Glory of the East.” Walking through it gave them the feeling of being inside the works of some giant machine, which in fact they were. Though very spacious, the submarine had been designed in typical Soviet utilitarian fashion, with minimum concessions to creature comforts. The crew members slept in nine-man rooms equipped with small tables and chairs, but the reading lights and stereo headsets were the sole touches of luxury. Everywhere were pipes and dials, gauges, wheels, control panels and watertight hatches. Everything was painted Soviet military gray. Despite the dosimeters worn by each member of the crew-Drakov had seen to it that dosimeters were given to his “guests,” as well-the men aboard the submarine were shielded from the reactor by layers of water, lead and fuel oil, receiving less radiation than would a person on the surface on a sunny day. If any malfunction occurred with the reactor, control rods would automatically slide into position between the plates of uranium and shut it down. The submarine would then operate on its auxiliary diesel engines. There were laundry facilities on board, as well as a nucleonics lab, a fully equipped machine shop, a photo darkroom and a library with close to one thousand books. They looked into the library briefly and saw Verne, oblivious to their presence, surrounded by books, reading with the intensity of an archival researcher who had struck the mother lode, several dictionaries open by his side.

The crew of Drakov’s Nautilus numbered one hundred twenty men, excluding themselves. They had learned of a number of casualties reducing the original complement. The Russian captain and several of his officers, as well as enlisted men, had not survived the change in command. Some had died during re-education, others had been killed trying to resist. Their guide upon the tour of the submarine, a young Soviet submariner named Sasha, answered all their questions frankly. He told them all members of the crew, with the exception of Drakov and his “officers,” as well as the ship’s doctor and its cooks, stood two four-hour watches each day in addition to work they had to perform off watch time.

Everywhere they went, they were carefully observed by members of the crew, but no one except Sasha spoke to them. There was no noise except for the hum of the ventilation system and the occasional gurgle of oil coming from the hydraulics, sounds which they quickly became accustomed to and ceased to hear. In the engine room, it was quite a different story. Crew members sat at their stations amid complex instruments and the noise of pumps, generators, turbines and reduction gears. The rapidly spinning propeller shafts turning at hundreds of revolutions per minute seemed not to move at all, except for a slight blur as they revolved. The control room of the sub resembled a bridge on a starship, with a semicircular central control station and a console holding banks of instruments. The helmsman controlled the planes on the submarine’s sail for depth and handled the rudder to maintain course. The stern planesman trimmed the up and down angle of the sub by means of the stern planes, located forward of the propellers. The diving officer kept his eyes on gauges and dials on a large panel before him, monitoring the sub’s depth, rate of dive during descent, the amount of roll the vessel was subjected to and gave orders to the planesmen. The chief of the watch was in charge of the water ballast, shifting it from one tank to another, depending upon requirements. The quartermaster of the watch was the submarine’s navigator; the radioman had little to do save monitor transmissions and the engineering officer supervised the dozen men who operated the propulsion plant.

They cruised at a depth of two hundred feet, maintaining a speed of thirty knots, none of the power driving the Nautilus being wasted in turbulence. At their depth, pressure negated turbulence. The submarine experienced reduced resistance to forward motion at depth. There was no propeller slippage and speed was easier to achieve and maintain than on the surface. Except when the decks tilted during a dive or an ascent, there was no sensation of movement whatsoever. In answer to a question from Finn, Sasha told them, in English, that despite carrying a crew of over one hundred, the submarine could be operated by as few as a dozen men in an emergency. He was very proud of his ship-he used the term “boat,” a direct translation from the Russian podvodnaya lodka, meaning submarine boat-and he was proud of his command of English. His military bearing was at curious odds with his appearance. He had started to grow his hair long and was doing his best to grow a beard. He wore a gold circle in his left ear and the cutoff sleeves of his jumpsuit revealed recent tattoos executed in an intricate, Oriental style with vivid reds, yellows, oranges and blues. A Chinese dragon covered his entire upper arm on the left side and his right arm was graced with a nude, almond-eyed woman whose hair fanned out to frame her entire body. The workmanship was exquisite.

“Shiro worked three hours on her,” he said, smiling. “I wonder if his sister looks at all like this. If so, I must somehow arrange to meet her one day.”

“I wonder if the little heathen would do one for me,” said Land.

“I am certain he would, if you were to ask,” said Sasha. “It seems to give him great pleasure, though it is hard to tell, he always looks so serious.”

“What do you think of all this, Sasha?” Lucas said.

The young Russian frowned. “All this?”

“Being a member of the Soviet Navy one day and a time pirate the next,” said Lucas.

Sasha smiled. “Time pirate. I like the sound of that. It is what we do, pirate time. How should I feel about it? I have been re-educated. I am, of course, aware of my previous loyalties, but they no longer matter. This is a new life. I am a new person. Captain Drakov has been very good to us. Mr. Benedetto has explained how he could have obliterated all our memories of what we were, but the captain would not allow that. He did not wish to rob us of our souls. He did not wish to make puppets of us.”

“Didn’t he?” said Finn.

“You met him; you saw what he is like,” said Sasha. “He is a great man, destined for great things. We are all a part of something much more important now.”

“And what would that be?” Andre said.

“You should ask the captain,” Sasha replied evasively.

“He didn’t want to rob you of your souls,” said Finn, “but he robbed you of the ability of making choices for yourselves.”

“That is not true,” said Sasha. “He helped us see to make the correct choices. And there are those among us who did not require re-educating. They were able to see clearly for themselves.”

“Which of the crew would those be?” Lucas said.

“Only the captain and Mr. Benedetto would know that,” said Sasha. “We were not told, so we would not feel inferior to those of our shipmates who were more perceptive than we.”

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Finn said.

“Of course.”

“Very egalitarian of the captain,” Finn said, wryly.

Back in their cabin, Land stretched out upon one of the lower bunks and put his hands behind his head. “Maybe I’m starting to lose my mind, too,” he said, “or else this vessel truly is from some future time. I’ve never seen the like of it.”

“When you have exhausted all the possible explanations, Ned,” said Lucas, “consider the impossible. Try to imagine what it would have been like for a primitive caveman from the dawn of time to stand upon the decks of an iron steamship. If you can picture that, then put yourself in that caveman’s place and you will begin to understand what has happened to you.”

“This story Drakov told, about being able to destroy a city the size of Paris with but one of his explosives, can it be true?”

“Regrettably, Ned, it’s only too true.”

“Merde,” said Land. “A man with such power, he could bring the nations of the world to their knees.”

“Conceivably,” said Lucas, “but I don’t think that’s what he intends.”

“Why not?” said Land. “How could any man resist such a temptation?”

“In this time, with this submarine, Drakov could easily make himself the ruler of the world,” said Lucas. “However, doing something like that would make him too obvious a target for others like ourselves. He has to remain hidden. He has to keep moving. He has become the object of an unprecedented hunt, Ned. And there are weapons in the future far more terrible than those he has on board. What makes him safe is his mobility, not only through the oceans of the world, but through all of time, as well. We found him only with the greatest luck. Or perhaps he found us. Maybe he really is the tool of destiny.”

“You don’t believe that, surely?” Land said.

Lucas grinned. “I’m not even sure I believe in belief.”

“The trouble is,” said Andre, “there seems to be no way we can stop him short of sabotaging this submarine, somehow. Only how to do it and survive?”

“Where in our orders does it say we’re supposed to survive?” said Finn. “Maybe another team will get a crack at him. If they don’t botch the job like we did, then our worries will be over. Permanently.”

“What do we do meanwhile?” she said.

Lucas shrugged. “We wait.”

“If this fellow is truly so dangerous,” said Land, “why not just do away with him? Kill Drakov and this Benedetto, and the others will lack for leadership.”

“The only problem with that idea,” Lucas said, “is Drakov’s promise to kill us all if any one of our group stepped out of line. The three of us would be perfectly willing to accept that risk, but what about yourself and Verne?”

Land shrugged. “For my part, the risk don’t bother me a great lot. But do you think he would kill Verne? He seemed quite taken with him.”

“That may be true,” said Finn, “but if Drakov’s killed, who’ll protect Verne from the others?”

“Yes, that is true,” said Land. “We can’t decide without asking him. Maybe we’ll have a chance to kill this madman and escape. This boat must surface sometime.”

There was a knock at their door and it opened, admitting Benedetto. He took one step into the cabin and looked around at them, shaking his head.

“If you are intent upon hatching plots,” he said, “at least have the brains to do it in a manner that you cannot be overheard. This cabin is monitored, you know. It would not have gone well for you if someone else had overheard you, rather than myself. If you must have private discussions, I would suggest the engine room. It is rather noisy there. Of course, the crew will wonder what you are talking about and they will report it to the captain. If I were you, I wouldn’t bother. And I wouldn’t waste my time trying to incite any of these Russians to mutiny, either. It would be pointless. Now, if you don’t mind, I would really like to get some sleep. Do try not to stay up late. We will keep military hours aboard. Good night to you.”

He closed the door.

“There goes a most strange man,” said Land. “What do you make of him?”

Lucas shook his head. “Damned if I know, Ned. I’m starting to think you were right all along and everyone on board is crazy.”

“Interesting he should have us monitored, though,” said Andre. “It does tell us one thing we needed to know.”

“What might that be?” said Land.

“He’s vulnerable,” said Andre. “Let’s sleep on it.”

Verne did not return to the cabin at all that night. They encountered him at breakfast, looking haggard, but with a wild light in his eyes.

“I am going to spend all of my time in this ship’s library!” he said. “I did not sleep at all last night. There is so much to learn. That library is a treasure trove! Books on science, history, novels and texts, in Russian, French, German and English, all published years from now! I have been trying to understand this atomic energy more completely. This Einstein was a genius! Or, I should say, I suppose, he will be a genius. One could read his work for years and still not comprehend it all. What an amazing stroke of luck to find myself aboard this submarine boat! What a fantastic opportunity!”

“You are about to be given yet another fantastic opportunity, Mr. Verne,” said Drakov, coming to the table with his inevitable escort. “I trust you all slept well?”

Only Verne replied. “I could not sleep a wink, Captain Drakov. I found myself unable to resist your fabulous store of books.”

“Then you must force yourself to rest immediately after breakfast, sir,” said Drakov. “You will need all your energy for what is to come. Are you up to a stroll upon the ocean bottom?”

Verne looked alarmed, as did Land.

“Never fear,” said Drakov, smiling. “It is not my intention to drown you. I assure you that you will be able to accompany me on a submarine excursion in complete safety.”

“But… how is this possible?” said Verne.

“You shall see,” said Drakov. “Shortly after breakfast, we will be making temporal transition. The diving Klaxon will sound, followed immediately by the chimes used to signal a missile alert. Since this submarine was not equipped with a special signal for time travel, we must improvise and use a combination of those two. At that point, I would advise you to go to your cabin and lie down. The effects of traveling through time can be mildly unpleasant, but no more so than those of drinking too much wine. The effect will not last long.”

“Traveling through time!” said Verne, in awe. “But… to where?”

Our destination will be the deep water off the Florida Keys, in the 18th century,” said Drakov.

“The 18th century!” said Land.

“Quite correct. We are going on an expedition to recover undersea treasure.”

Land’s eyes lit up. “Treasure? What sort of treasure? Gold?”

“That and much more,” said Drakov. He drank his coffee, watching them with amusement. “We can expect for there to be quite a horde aboard a sunken Spanish galleon.”

“A Spanish galleon!” said Ned.

“Part of a fleet,” said Drakov. “Does the prospect interest you, Mr. Land?”

“You’re going to attack this fleet?” said Andre.

“No, Miss Cross, I will not. I could easily destroy the entire armada if I chose it. However, the destruction of this fleet is a fact of history. I know you respect history,” he added, with a smile.

“On the 15th of July, in the year 1733,” he continued, “a hurricane of immense strength swept up from the Lesser Antilles, past the English Leeward Islands, heading toward the Florida Keys. In its wake, it left massive destruction on the islands of Marie Galante, Guadeloupe, Montserrat, Redonda, Nevis, St. Kitts, St. Eustatius and Saba. A Spanish treasure armada under the command of General Don Rodrigo de Torres y Morales had the misfortune to be caught in this terrible storm. Their ill luck and our good fortune.

“The armada sailed from the harbor of San Cristobal de la Habana on the morning of July 13. In all, twenty ships made up this fleet, escorting treasure back to Spain. It was composed of galleons, naos and smaller merchant vessels. Only one, the Nuestra Senora del Rosario, survived the storm. The others, the Almiranta, El Infante, the San Jose, the Populo, the Lerri, the El Sueco de Arizon, the Capitana, all perished, pounded into bits as they were driven on the reefs by the fierce winds.

“They were carrying a fortune in treasure valued at over twelve million pesos in gold and silver, as well as tobacco and spices, teas, ceramics, semi-precious stones and that was only the reported cargo. You can be certain there was contraband on board the ships, as well.”

“Why contraband?” said Verne.

“Greed,” said Drakov. “The King of Spain’s treasuries were supplied by the wealth of the New World. All the treasure brought to Spain was taxed. The tax was known as the King’s Fifth or the Royal Fifth. Smugglers went to great lengths to avoid paying this tax. Despite agents of the Board of Trade examining all cargo carefully, much was hidden from their eyes by clever sailors. The penalties were severe and informants were rewarded with a portion of the contraband recovered, so smuggling became quite an art. Treasure was hidden in barrels of spices and in bales of tobacco, among the ballast stones, anywhere one could think of secreting some gold or silver. There is no telling how much treasure might be aboard those ships. There were even incidents where entire ships were not listed on the manifests and hidden among the other vessels of large fleets.”

“How will you be able to obtain this treasure?” Land said.

“We will arrive upon the scene of the disaster after the Spaniards have completed what salvage operations they were able to employ,” said Drakov. “This is not to say we shall arrive soon after the disaster itself. These salvage operations often went on for years. Considering what was at stake, ships which sank in coastal waters were eagerly sought after by freebooters who would immediately flock to the location if protective measures were not taken. In this particular case, the Spaniards were able to refloat several of the ships. Those which were too damaged to refloat were burned to the water line, the better to enable divers to swim down directly into the cargo holds and to aid in hiding the locations of the wrecks. A great deal of the treasure was recovered, but there was much left to interest future treasure hunters in the coming centuries. It would be years before the wrecks were thoroughly picked clean, years before the invention of the magnetometer enabled hunters to find the treasure. Some of the wrecks would, in several generations, even become tourist attractions. But we are seeking one wreck in particular.”

“There was one ship,” Drakov said, “a man-of-war named La Floridana, which sank completely in deep water. The Spaniards searched for her extensively, but no trace of her was ever found. La Floridana does not appear on any of the Spanish maps charting the locations of the wrecks, maps which despite their inaccuracies guided future treasure hunters. La Floridana is a mystery ship. Only she is not a mystery to me, for I have found her. She lies in the deep water off Key Largo, where the ocean currents buried her in sand, hiding her beneath the ocean bottom, safe from prying eyes. Only I have seen her prior to her burial. I have been there once before.”

“What will you do with this treasure, Captain?” Land said, already in the grip of gold fever.

“Sell it, Mr. Land,” said Drakov. “What else does one do with gold and silver? I am a wealthy man already, but my venture has seriously depleted my reserves and I must augment my treasury. We have the advantage not only of clocking back to a time before La Floridana was buried in the ocean floor, but of clocking forward to a time when the worth of what is aboard her will have increased a thousandfold. You may join us on our salvage operation, if you wish. A good worker is always welcome and you will be allowed to keep a part of what you find.”

“How much of a part?” Land immediately asked.

Drakov chuckled. “Enough, Mr. Land. Enough to satisfy even a man of your voracious appetite. What is to be found aboard La Floridana is but a minuscule portion of what is available to us beneath the sea. There can be times when life is hard for us, but there are also times when we live very well indeed. We can pick and choose those times.”

“What are you doing, Drakov?” Finn said. “Recruiting?”

“And why not? Mr. Land is aboard my submarine already. Why not as a productive member of the crew instead of as awkward supercargo?” Drakov shrugged. “There is always room for more in my organization. It is something worth considering.” He turned to Ned. “There is no need to give your answer now, Mr. Land. There is ample time. Once you have experienced fully the sort of life we lead, then you can decide. I wish your choice to be an informed one.”

“And what about the others?” Land said. “You make the same offer to them?”

“No, Mr. Land,” said Drakov. “I have too much respect for them to think they would ever be disloyal to their commander. Their duty is to stop me, to kill me if they can. It is up to me to make certain they do not have that opportunity. It’s really all quite simple. We understand each other. I cannot tempt them with treasure. But you, Mr. Land, I have a feeling you might be tempted.”

Back in their cabin, they searched for three hours without finding the bug. Land lay silently in his bunk, eyes open and staring. Verne was in the library once again. They finally gave up and went to the engine room, where their presence caused suspicious glances, but nothing more.

“This is ridiculous,” Finn said into Lucas’s ear. “We’re not getting anywhere.”

Lucas leaned close to Finn. “We have to find that monitoring device. We can’t even take the chance of talking among ourselves until we do.”

“We looked everywhere,” said Finn.

“We must have missed something,” Andre said. “Think.” “I’m more concerned about that warp disc,” Lucas said. “It’s got to be somewhere aboard this sub.”

“What about Drakov’s cabin?” Andre said.

“Good a place to look as any,” Lucas replied, “but it seems a little obvious.”

“The problem is not in finding it, but what to do about it when we do,” said Finn. “If we sabotage it, they’ll know immediately. And it won’t be any trouble for them to clock out to wherever they’ve got the rest of the shipment hidden and get another one.”

“That is a problem,” said Lucas. “Everyone on board’s got warp discs. Even if we manage to sabotage the sub, they can all clock out to God knows where. Drakov’s got us and he knows it.”

“Only what’s he going to do with us?” said Andre.

Count Grigori entered the engine room and stood there, his huge arms folded across his chest.

“I think the conference is over,” Lucas said.

They walked past him out into the companionway. He said nothing to them. They found Verne in the library, reading avidly.

“You’d better do as Drakov suggested, Jules,” said Lucas. “You need to get some rest.”

“How can I rest?” said Verne, indicating the books around him. “There is enough here to keep dozens of scholars busy for decades. I cannot waste a moment of such an opportunity.”

“Jules,” said Andre, “transition can be difficult, especially when you’ve never experienced it before. Please.”

Verne sighed. “Very well, if you insist. I am beginning to feel a bit weary.”

Finn glanced at Lucas. “You think he’d have the library bugged, as well?”

“Bugged?” said Verne.

Lucas explained. “Drakov has planted a listening device somewhere in our cabin.”

“Ah, I see,” said Verne. “And you have been unable to locate it?”

“We’ve searched everywhere,” said Andre.

“You are quite certain?” Verne said.

Lucas shrugged. “I can’t think of anywhere else to look.”

“This device,” said Verne, “it could be quite small, no? Like your alarm device back on the ship?”

“Yes, it probably would be,” Lucas said.

“But you have taken that into consideration and still been unsuccessful?”

They nodded.

Verne scratched his chin, thoughtfully. “It is certain he did not expect us to be aboard,” he said. “If such a device was installed in the cabin, it must have been done after we arrived.”

“That would pose no problem,” Finn said. “They’ve had ample opportunity.”

“Yes, yes, but I am thinking you would know what to look for and still you have not found it,” Verne said.

“Don’t concern yourself, Jules,” said Lucas, putting a hand on the writer’s shoulder. “If we couldn’t find it, I doubt you could.”

Verne looked up at him from where he sat and smiled. “I must seem quite primitive to you three,” he said.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Lucas said quickly. “It’s only that-”

Verne reached out and unclipped the dosimeter from the belt of Lucas’s jumpsuit. He looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, then held it up. Lucas frowned, then understanding dawned.

He took the dosimeter from Verne and examined it closely. Then he showed it to Finn and Andre. They immediately checked theirs, as well. Each contained a listening device.

“I apologize, Jules,” said Lucas. “I didn’t mean to be insulting. You’re quite welcome to search for the listening device, if you want to. But it’s probably a waste of time. Even if we found it, they’d only install another one and hide it more cleverly the second time.”

Verne looked puzzled for a moment, then he understood. “Well, you are quite right, mon ami. We are, after all, uninvited guests aboard this vessel. One can hardly blame the captain for wishing to be cautious. I will put the matter from my mind and get some rest, as you suggest.”

When the diving Klaxon and the missile chimes sounded one after the other, Verne tensed and clenched his fists; he went rigid in his bunk and glanced with alarm at the others. Land was also in his bunk, but Lucas, Finn and Andre sat at the table, playing cards with a deck they borrowed from one of the crewmen.

“It will be all right, Jules,” Finn said. “Try to relax.”

“Relax?” said Verne. “Relax? I am about to travel to another time and you want me to relax? Should you not lie down as well?”

Lucas smiled. “We’ve done this many, many times before, Jules. We’re accustomed to it.”

“What am Ito expect?” said Verne. “How will it feel? Mon Dieu, I should have rested more. I am not well. My nerves… I am dizzy and my stomach-”

Abruptly, he retched.

Aghast, he stared at the mess he had made upon the cabin floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How disgraceful!” he said. “How terribly embarrassing! I am so very sorry, my friends-”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” said Finn. “It’s one of those aftereffects Drakov warned you about. It happens even to seasoned veterans of time travel. You’ll be feeling better shortly.”

Verne stared at him. “You mean… that was it? It is over?”

“That was it,” said Finn.

“But… but nothing happened!”

“You mean you didn’t notice anything happen,” Lucas said. “It would have been much more dramatic if you had been wearing an individual warp disc and clocked from one location to another, but since it was the submarine that made transition and we are inside the submarine, you haven’t noticed anything change. And, in that sense, nothing has.”

“Can’t a man get a bit of sleep around here?” Land said, turning over in his bunk.

“Ned!” said Verne. “I cannot believe it! You slept through it!”

“Slept through what?” said Land.

“We have traveled through time, Ned!”

Land grimaced. “Yes, from the moment before to this one. Stop talking nonsense.”

“How do you feel, Ned?” said Lucas, glancing at his cards.

“My stomach aches from that miserable food we’re served on board,” said Land. “No doubt I’ve been poisoned by squid preserves or seaweed spinach.”

Finn chuckled. “Go back to sleep, Ned.”

There was a knock at their door and Sasha entered. “The captain desires your presence in the control room,” he said. “There is something he wishes you to see.”