Part 26 (2/2)

vi

Caliph Robur began his b.l.o.o.d.y punishments before the full year was up.

Strident horns blew across the compound, summoning the dejected engineers from where they had begun work on a second vessel based on Nemo's modified design. The caliph's guards marched out, their shaved heads glistening in the Turkish sun, their loose white garments looking too clean.

The captive engineers knew something terrible lay in store for them, though they had done their best under impossible circ.u.mstances. Robur's own foolish impatience had been the root cause of the disaster.

Standing at the docks with industrial smoke hanging like a pall over the cove, Nemo stepped to the front of his team in an attempt to rea.s.sure them. During the Crimean War, Robur had coolly selected each man because of his individual expertise. Each one was valuable to this project, vital to the completion of the undersea vessel. But Nemo feared the warlord's rage would provoke him to unwise actions. . . .

The night after the first sub-marine craft had sunk, two-year-old Jules had played innocently on the carpets in their home, laughing. He was a good-natured boy, whose vivid imagination made a toy out of any sc.r.a.p of material. Auda played a stringed musical instrument and sang to Nemo, trying to soothe his despair.

”I have word from the Sultan's court at Ankara, my husband,” she said in a low voice. ”Caliph Robur finds himself in a terrible situation. My father has grown stronger, and Robur has lost the Sultan's support.”

”Why?” Nemo said. ”Because of what happened today?”

Auda shook her head. ”For years, Robur has secretly diverted much of the Sultan's treasury to Rurapente, yet he still has nothing to show for it. My father, on the other hand, knows the power of sweet words, compliments, and promises . . . and he uses them daily on the Sultan's weak will. Caliph Barbicane gives the Sultan little gifts to show his loyalty, while Robur does not.” She stroked his dark hair. ”It is a game of politics, my beloved -- and Robur does not play it well.”

Nemo looked at her, distracted by her beauty. Young Jules chuckled in a corner, playing with a small twig studded with dry leaves. He waved it about like a flag.

”Much as I despise him, Robur does have the truer vision,” Nemo told her. ”He sees the future, while Barbicane does not. The Ottoman Empire will will fall if the Turks persist in old ways and ignore how the world will change once the Suez Ca.n.a.l is completed.” fall if the Turks persist in old ways and ignore how the world will change once the Suez Ca.n.a.l is completed.”

Auda leaned forward to give him a gentle kiss, then played her musical instrument again. ”Husband, this matter has nothing to do with who is correct and who is wrong . . . only which of the caliphs can persuade the great Sultan.”

When she had begun to sing once more, Nemo closed his eyes and listened to her voice, but she hadn't been able to lull him out of his misery. . . .

Now, months later, Robur's voice boomed out with the grim threat of a cannon strike. ”You have failed me. All of you.” He looked from one captive engineer to another, his gaze like a stiletto dragged across their throats. ”But I shall be merciful -- and only one of you will pay the ultimate price. This time.”

He made a brisk gesture with a ringed hand. Nemo could see that the whole spectacle had been rehea.r.s.ed beforehand. The muscular guards marched forward and grabbed fidgety Conseil, the meteorologist. ”No, no, no!” The small man from Ma.r.s.eilles flailed and cried out, but they pinned his arms. His sunburned face turned beet red, and his eyes looked as if they might spring from their sockets. The guards dragged Conseil to the end of the docks.

”Caliph Robur, you must not do this!” Nemo stepped forward, but guards shoved him back.

The Turkish leader gave him a withering glare. ”You do not command me, Engineer. You are my slave slave.”

Nemo did not blink. ”I am the one building your sub-marine boat -- and if you want it finished, you cannot deprive me of my men.”

Robur fixed Nemo with a stony gaze. ”Nevertheless, you will learn to work without this man.”

Conseil's arms and legs had turned to jelly. Desperation turned Nemo's voice deeper, gave it a ragged edge. ”You must not do this!”

At the caliph's quick nod, the guards shoved Conseil down onto his knees. His face was now pasty white, and his arms fluttered. He tried feebly to get away, but the strong men held him down.

”I said stop, or I swear to you that we will all sabotage our work and you will never have your sub-marine boat!” Defiant and angry, Nemo pushed against the crossed scimitars of the guards. He struck out with his fists, trying to make his way to the doomed man, but one of them hammered the hilt of his weapon against Nemo's forehead, making him crumple to the ground.

”Then you will all die, in the most horrible manner I can imagine. I suggest that you do not challenge my ingenuity in concocting tortures.” Robur looked at him as a man might inspect a bug. ”I do as I wish, Engineer -- just as you you must also do as I wish. All of you.” must also do as I wish. All of you.”

Nemo struggled to his knees, wiping a scarlet splash of blood from his eyes, and snarled in desperation, ”No! If you insist on doing this, then you are a fool fool.” The threat in his voice made the guards glare at him. Nemo had dealt with thugs and pirates and warlords before, and he hated them all. ”Robur, you have my word that if you spare him, we --”

Caliph Robur gave a barely perceptible flick of his right hand.

The curved scimitar struck downward, and Conseil had time for only a brief squawking cry that was abruptly cut short as his head rolled onto the dockboards. The guards released his decapitated body, which slumped forward like a dropped sack.

The engineers staggered in shock, as if they, too, had felt the blow. Some stared with a thunderstorm of rage across their faces. Liedenbrock swore under his breath, then began to weep.

Nemo clenched his jaw, trying to contain his absolute loathing for the man who had forced them here. He vowed again that he would never cooperate for the caliph's aims. They had been here for seven years already and had grown too complacent. It would take cleverness and determination, but he would would find a way to use Robur's own technology against him. find a way to use Robur's own technology against him.

The warlord's men used their booted feet to shove Conseil's body off the dock and into the cove. Then, three workers ran forward with buckets of water to wash away the blood.

His green turban in place, its emerald staring like a third eye from his forehead, Robur scowled at the gathered prisoners. ”Now, get back to work.”

vii

As daylight seeped through the red silk curtains that hung over his windows, Nemo stood motionless, hypnotized by the fish swimming inside their tank. A gla.s.s-walled enclosure contained ten fish of various sizes and species, gliding back and forth. He had spent hours observing how their bodies and fins moved for propulsion, how their gills pumped water, how the fish existed existed beneath the surface. beneath the surface.

His mechanical, armored war vessel would have to do the same.

Auda, who knew not to interrupt him during these contemplative times, had taken their son Jules, now four years old, to play in the back room of their home. Nemo's many years of enforced work and research at Rurapente would culminate today with the launching of the new vessel. Despite the caliph's self-imposed urgency, the Suez Ca.n.a.l had not yet been completed.

But the sub-marine wars.h.i.+p was truly ready after many long years of labor, of sweat and blood. Either Nemo would succeed today . . . or fail utterly. With so many lives dependent on him, failure was not an option. Conseil had already paid for their work with his life.

A muscular guard marched through the door covering without announcing himself. ”Caliph Robur wishes to depart. Now.” The bald man stood, intimidating, and waited for Nemo to turn away from the fish tank. His shaved scalp wrinkled with consternation at the delay.

Still, Nemo refused to hurry, resisting in every small manner he could find. With a deep feeling of dread, he went to Auda and Jules. While the guard glowered and made impatient noises, Nemo embraced his wife and son, promising them that nothing was wrong . . . but he wondered if this might be the last time he ever saw them. What did Robur have in mind for his engineers if the sub-marine vessel did perform as expected?

Hanging his head in resignation, Nemo followed the guard. He took one last look at the gracefully swimming -- though still trapped -- fish, then at the meager possessions he and Auda had gathered during their life in Rurapente. He marched behind the white-robed guard out to the crowded docks.

The new armored vessel lay like a half-submerged predatory fish tied up against the pilings. Eyelike portholes made of thick gla.s.s 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 Coralie. Jagged fins like sawteeth lined the dorsal hull, the better for causing severe damage to wooden-keeled s.h.i.+ps traversing the Suez.

In secret, Nemo had named the boat the Nautilus Nautilus, after Fulton's turn-of-the-century design. In nature, the real nautilus was a cephalopod cased in a beautiful corkscrew sh.e.l.l, but the ethereal name could not disguise the fact that this was a powerfully armed s.h.i.+p 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 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. 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.

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