The Nautilus Sanction

4

An entire week passed with no sight of Jules Verne. He remained closeted in his cabin, pleading seasickness. His meals were brought in to him, but he ate extremely sparingly, if at all. The ship’s doctor was sent in to see him and he announced the author did, indeed, appear to be suffering from nothing more serious than seasickness, claiming dizziness, nausea and an upset stomach. It would pass, the doctor said, there was no cause for concern. The three commandos, however, were very much concerned.

Time passed slowly aboard the ship as it steamed across the Atlantic, and they were not troubled by storms. Finn, Lucas and Andre had plenty of time and opportunity to examine the ship, observe the routine of its crew and pick put several likely places from which they might be able to launch their grenades unobserved if the submarine were sighted.

The three scientists proved to be no problem. Vandenburg was surly and morose by disposition, preferring to keep to himself and socialize to some limited extent only during mealtimes. The remainder of the time he spent reading, having brought several suitcases full of books along with him on the voyage. Samuelson and Devries were both considerably more gregarious, with Devries always wanting to discuss some scientific topic or another, which discussions were facilitated by the implant programming the commandos went through in preparation for their mission. Still, Devries’s expertise was so eclectic, they had to plead ignorance on several occasions when his discourse became far too esoteric for them. On such occasions, Devries was more than happy to quickly change the subject away from science to such fields as literature, theater, history and philosophy. He was one of those people who seemed to be able to talk about almost anything with authority and he dearly loved to talk, which did not endear him to Ned Land, who quickly grew bored listening to him go on and on. Samuelson turned out to be a chess fanatic, which gave him common ground with Lucas. They spent long hours playing, and discussing the finer points of the game.

Finn and Ned Land got along famously. One of Land’s favorite pastimes was arm wrestling and, given his prodigious strength, he rarely lost. His harpooner’s reflexes also gave him an edge in that regard, but in Finn Delaney, he met his match. The first time he challenged him, after having already bested the entire crew, it had been with a good deal of levity.

“Come on, then, Doctor, you’re a stout fellow, let’s see what you’re made of.”

Finn had accepted readily enough and a small group gathered round to see the “professor” get his comeuppance. The two men propped their elbows up on a keg, braced themselves and, at a signal from one of the onlookers, went to. Land’s eyes widened in surprise immediately when he felt a strength opposing his that was equal to his own.

“Eh! Professor! That’s some arm you’ve got there!”

Both men strained, hands locked, neither able to gain an advantage over the other. The crowd of onlookers grew and soon sailors were shouting encouragement and placing bets. It went on for almost four minutes, both men red-faced and sweaty, breathless from their exertions, until finally Land slowly started to give, fighting every last inch of the way. When Finn put him down at last, there was a mighty cheer and Land cheered loudest of all. He leaped up and clasped Finn in a bear hug, kissing both his cheeks and lifting him into the air. From that moment on, Land treated him like a brother.

Lucas kept monitoring the sea with his instruments every chance he got, closing them up immediately whenever anyone came near, acting suspicious and indignant whenever anyone questioned him about what he was doing. Since he only seemed to act so unreasonably when so occupied and was otherwise quite sociable, they soon left him alone at his task, writing it off to his scientific jealousy and insecurity.

For the first few days at sea, Andre was left pretty much to her own devices. Samuelson seemed somewhat misogynistic, Devries did not seem to feel women had much to contribute to intellectual discussion-in this, being typical of the men of his day-and Vandenburg was downright misanthropic. That left only Verne, who had removed himself from their company, and the officers and crew of the Abraham Lincoln who, like Ned Land, treated her with polite circumspection until one day one of the bolder sailors pinched her backside. Andre turned around and flattened him, to the amazement of his fellow crew members and Ned Land, who had witnessed the act. Thereafter, the crew of the Abraham Lincoln gave her a wide berth, but Land began to follow her around like a lovesick schoolboy, pathetically and endearingly trying to court her, as if he had never had anything to do with women before and didn’t quite know how to go about it.

For her part, Andre found him to be quite attractive with his flaxen blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, wide smile and cleft chin, but his manner mystified her.

“What the hell’s the matter with him?” she asked Finn one night. “God knows, I’ve dropped enough hints. If I was any more direct, I’d scare him off and ruin my chances. You men are so damned stupid, it’s a wonder women ever manage to get laid!”

“Hey, I resent that!” Finn protested, laughing.

“Oh, you know what I mean. How the hell am I supposed to deal with a 19th-century male?”

“You should talk,” said Finn. “You’re a 12th-century female.”

“With 27th-century sensibilities,” she said. “Still, even in the 12th century, we were more direct than this! I like him. He’s handsome, he’s charming, he’s fun, he’s rough-edged and he has a terrific body. But he’s so goddamn dense! What am I supposed to do, fall overboard?”

Finn began to laugh again, then saw the expression that sud denly appeared upon her face.

“Oh, now wait a minute!”

“It’s perfect! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

“You can’t be serious! That water’s cold. By the time the ship could turn around-”

“It doesn’t have to turn around! Not if we time it just right.”

“We?”

“That’s right, you’re going to help me.”

“Hey, get your own guys.”

“Finn, dammit, you help me with this or I’ll bust your jaw!”

“Boy, you’re really nasty when you’re in heat, you know that?”

A moment later, as he was picking himself up off the floor, he shook his head and said, “Okay, okay, I’ll help you. But I hope you know what you’re doing.”

They timed it with excruciating precision. They took up their positions with Andre up forward and Finn roughly amidships. At the proper moment, Andre “slipped” and plunged over the side with a piercing scream loud enough to be heard in the Canary Islands. Instantly Land was diving over the side after her, hitting the water scant seconds after she did. Finn was ready with the rope and life preserver, tossing it to Land on cue. The ship was steaming along at a leisurely pace and there was plenty of time for them to be pulled aboard with the aid of several crewmen who instantly leaped to Delaney’s aid. As Land picked her up in his arms, both of them shivering and streaming water down onto the deck, she threw her arms around his neck and said, “Oh, Ned! You saved my life! My hero!” And kissed him.

Lucas came running up to Finn, having heard all the commotion.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded.

“Excuse me,” Finn said, brushing him aside. “I’ve got to go throw up.”

They were eighteen days out when a knock came at Finn and Lucas’s cabin door at about midnight. Finn opened the door to admit a haggard-looking Verne.

“I must speak with you,” the author said, entering the cabin.

Lucas sat up in his bunk. “Are you all right, Mr. Verne?”

Verne waved his hand irritably. “I am not all right,” he said. “Oh, I am occasionally seasick on an ocean voyage, but that is of no consequence. I have been for the past two weeks the victim of acute anxiety. I must ask you gentlemen to open those cases for me. I simply must!”

“Mr. Verne,” Lucas began, “we’ve been through that. We simply cannot-”

“Then you must decide what sort of drastic thing it is you want to do about me,” he said, visibly agitated. “For if I am not permitted to see what is inside those cases, I will go to Commander Farragut and tell him what I know.”

“Mr. Verne,” said Lucas softly, “we can’t allow you to do that.”

“That curious alarm device of yours,” said Verne, “has left me almost completely bereft of sleep. I am on the verge of complete nervous collapse. I must know the nature of its operation, gentlemen!”

“Mr. Verne,” said Finn, “Lucas explained to you. This is a top secret government-”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Verne almost shouted. “I wanted to believe you! I wanted for there to be some sort of sane, rational explanation, but there isn’t one. You’re lying to me. I know it beyond a question of a doubt. Even given all the resources of the American government or any other highly industrialized state, such a device could not possibly have been manufactured! It contravenes known science. It exists, yet it cannot exist. You understand, gentlemen, I am no scientist, but I keep abreast of new developments. I read voraciously; I am not an unversed layman. I do have some understanding of these things. The technology simply does not exist to manufacture such a thing! The scale of miniaturization is beyond any comprehension. There is no known power source which could be made small enough for such a device. There must be circuits, yet for someone to make circuits of such infinitesimal size, they would have to be able to dance upon the head of a pin! I must know how it was done. I must know what sort of process made those cases. I must know how those locks upon those cases operate when there are no apparent workings within them. I must know how these things were done. I must know where they were done. And I must know…”

He sat there, staring at them wildly.

“Mon Dieu, dare I say it?”

“Go on, Mr. Verne,” said Finn.

In a voice that was almost a whisper, Verne said, “I must know when.”

“Jackpot,” Finn said.

Lucas gave him a tight-lipped look.

“I am right, am I not?” said Verne, softly. “I felt certain I was going mad. Or perhaps I am already mad. Please, gentlemen, I beg you, for the sake of my sanity, you must tell me!”

“Mr. Verne, Jules,” said Lucas, “before this discussion goes any further, you must understand one thing. When I spoke of a top secret mission, I was not lying. If I tell you what you want to know, you must swear it will go no further than the confines of this room. Thousands upon thousands of lives could depend upon it.”

Verne licked his lips and took a deep breath. “And if I do not swear so?”

“Then Finn and I will have to figure out some way to make certain you cannot tell anyone. We do not wish to harm you. We do not wish to harm anyone on board this ship. Chances are no one will believe you anyway, but we can’t risk having our belongings searched. Please, Mr. Verne.”

“All right,” he said. “Conditionally, I will so swear. The condition is I cannot stand by and allow any wrongdoing. If that is what you intend, you shall have to kill me, for I will do everything within my power to stop you.”

“I can accept that,” Lucas said. “The answer, as you must already have surmised, is yes. We are not of this time.”

Verne shut his eyes. “I knew it,” he said. “I did not believe it was possible, but it was the only explanation that made any sort of sense. Both of you, and Miss Cross, as well-”

“Are from the 27th century,” said Lucas.

Verne gasped. “The 27th… but… that is over seven hundred years in the future!”

“That’s quite correct,” said Finn.

“Travel through time,” said Verne, awestruck. “I had thought about it from time to time-” he chuckled. “From time to time. Ironic choice of words, n’est-ce pas?” He stared at them both with wonder. “I had often thought of writing a story about it, but it seemed too incredible, too much of a fantasy for my sort of work. I always sought to strive for some believability and so I dismissed the notion. Yet.. there are a thousand things I wish to ask you and I do not know where to begin! Yes, yes, of course I do. The most obvious questions is, why are you here? It is something about this creature, is it not? This must be like some sort of archaeology for you-but no. You said thousands upon thousands of lives could depend upon it. Surely an aquatic mammal could not threaten-no, naturally not, if it is so important, then…”

The sound of the forecastle gun was heard and there was shouting up on deck. Andre burst into the cabin. “It’s Ned! He’s sighted it! They’ve opened fire and-” She saw Verne and brought herself up short.

“Get the ordnance!” Lucas said. “Move!”

“What is it? What’s-the creature!” Verne jumped to his feet as Finn and Andre both bolted out the door. Lucas put his palm up against Verne’s chest and shoved him hard. He fell back against the bulkhead. Lucas grabbed his equipment and moved toward the door.

“I’m sorry, Jules,” he said. “I can’t explain now and you’d just get in the way.”

He closed the door and locked it.

The torpedo struck amidships and the explosion rocked the Abraham Lincoln, blowing the steamer in two, obliterating men and metal alike as it shattered the ship’s spine, sending a great gout of flame and smoke leaping high into the air to illuminate the night sky. Finn reached the deck with Andre right behind him and the shock of the explosion flung him over the rail into the sea. He never felt it when he hit the water.

“Finn! Finn, come on, wake up! Snap out of it, I’m getting tired.”

“Andre?”

“Can you swim? Are you all right?”

Delaney began to tread water as Andre released him. He coughed as seawater sloshed into his mouth. “How long have I been out?”

“Don’t know,” said Andre. “Seemed like forever.” She gasped, gulping in air. “The ship went down. I dove in after you when you went over. I think some boats got away, but there was a lot of noise… boilers blew… I screamed myself hoarse, but no one heard me.”

“Lucas?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Damn.”

“We’re going to have to clock out, Finn. I can’t stay afloat much longer. Holding you exhausted me.”

Simon Hawke

The Nautilus Sanction

“You’re right,” he said. “There’s nothing else to do. We-”

“Ha-llooo!”

“Son of a bitch!” said Finn. “Someone’s out there!”

“Finn! Andre! Ha-llooo!”

“That’s Lucas! Here! Over here!”

They couldn’t see a thing. The moon was full, but a thick fog had rolled in and visibility was practically nil.

“Keep shouting so we can find you!” Lucas cried. “You sound very close!”

“God damn it, hurry up!” yelled Andre. “The water’s freezing!”

They heard Priest let out a whoop. “Hang on, Andre! We’re coming!”

They shouted back and forth for a few moments, and then the boat came drifting out of the fog with Lucas standing up in the prow, peering intently into the water. He spotted them and within seconds, they were being pulled over the side. Verne was at the oars and Devries lay in the bottom of the boat, unconscious.

“I was beginning to think you drowned,” said Lucas.

“I almost did,” said Finn, gasping for breath. “Andre kept me afloat.”

“I saw you both go over,” Lucas said. “You can thank Jules here for the boat. I think maybe one or two others got away, as well, but we lost them in the fog. There was a rush for the lifeboats when the boilers blew and most of them were caught in the explosion. This one was literally blown off the ship and Jules swam for it. We managed to pull Devries out, but he’s in pretty bad shape. We looked for other survivors, but with the ship going down so fast and the fire and the fog…” His voice trailed off.

“How the hell did you get out of the cabin?” Finn said, looking at Verne.

The author grinned weakly. “I have some slight skill with a lockpick,” he said. “In all the excitement, you seemed to have forgotten that.” His clothing was completely soaked and he was shivering in the cold night air. The heavy fog wasn’t making things any easier.

“Christ, it all happened so fast,” said Finn.

Andre flopped down in the bottom of the boat. “Ned spotted it first,” she said. “He’d been keeping his eyes peeled for it ever since Farragut announced that reward for whoever saw it first. Several of the men were cleaning the forecastle gun and they were able to bring it into action almost immediately. I think they had time for two shots, three at the very most.”

“Can we do anything about Devries?” said Finn.

Lucas shook his head. “I think he’s got internal injuries. He’s hanging on, but we haven’t got anything aboard the boat to help him with. We don’t even have any fresh water.”

“Speaking of water,” Andre said, “has anyone noticed this boat is leaking?”

They all exchanged glances. They were all thinking the same thing. The three of them could escape by clocking out, but that would still leave Verne and Devries. They couldn’t simply abandon them.

“Quiet,” said Verne. “Do you hear something?”

They fell silent, listening.

Lucas frowned. “No, I-”

“Listen!”

This time, they heard it. Somewhere, off in the mist, someone was singing.

“So I grabbed ‘er and I kissed ‘er, bent ‘er down across me knee,

And I said to ‘er, me bonny, this is how it’s going to be,

If you want to love a sailor man, then best learn to be true,

For if you daily round behind his back, he’ll beat you black and blue-”

“It’s Ned!” said Andre.

“So I struck ‘er on the bottom, kept it up til she cried, ‘Hold!’

She gazed up at me so tearfully, yet saucy and so bold,

Says she, ‘In ports across the sea, I know you wasn’t true,

So if you love those foreign wenches, I’ll go down for half your crew.’ “

“Ned!” shouted Andre, leaning out over the side of the boat and trying to see through the fog.

The singing stopped. “Andre? Is that you?”

“Keep singing, Ned!” cried Finn. “We’ll row toward the sound of your voice!”

“Put your back to it, my lad!” Land shouted, then began singing once again, louder than before and with considerable gusto.

“So I slapped that wench upon ‘er hum and threw ‘er to the floor,

Looked down at ‘er and hated ‘er, the bloody little whore,

I said it was all done with, that her words made up my mind,

And I told her I was leavin’, I was finished with ‘er kind.

“She looked up at me with fury and came at me with a blade,

I was faced with the most fiery wench the good Lord ever made,

I twisted round and felt that deadly steel scrape my side,

And I knew if I lived through it I would take ‘er for my bride.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” said Finn.

It loomed before them, shrouded in the mist, its teardrop-shaped hull like a steel island rising out of the waves. They could see the huge conning tower with its winglike sailplanes and tall periscopes, the flattened top portion of the deck with ominous round hatches, beneath which lurked ballistic missiles in their silos.

“What in the name of God is that?” Verne whispered, awestruck. “What is that?”

“A submarine,” said Lucas.

Land stood upon the deck, gazing out into the fog. When he spotted them, he waved.

“I’ve found your sea monster, Jules!” he shouted. “Come, have a look!”

“Finn, the sail!” said Lucas, grabbing his arm and pointing.

Delaney looked where he was pointing and saw a figure standing up on the bridge at the top of the conning tower. At the same moment, a hatch opened in the boat and uniformed men came streaming out, carrying automatic weapons. Land put up a struggle, but they overpowered him. A stream of bullets from an automatic rifle stitched the water close beside their boat.

One of the sailors barked out a command in Russian and waved them in.

“I think we’re being invited on board,” said Lucas.

“We must go,” said Verne. “We cannot abandon Ned.”

“I have no intention of abandoning Ned, Jules,” Lucas said. “We came here looking for that submarine. Well, now we’ve found it.”

Under the watchful eyes of the Soviet sailors, they came on board and, one at a time, went down the hatch.

They were taken to a cabin which slept six, with the bunks built into the bulkheads in tiers of three. By each row of bunks there were lockers and the cabin was equipped with a table, bolted down, as well as chairs. The bunks were close together, giving hardly any headroom, though there was plenty of space for a man of six feet to stretch out. Each bunk was equipped with a fluorescent light for reading and with a stereo headset. Moments after they were brought in, a crewman entered with coffee and a change of clothing for them, jumpsuits like those the others wore.

“Looks like we’ve got officers’ quarters,” Finn said. He opened the door to the cabin and was not surprised to see an armed guard confronting him. “Well, they’re willing to give us some privacy, but it seems we’re not to be allowed the run of the ship.”

“Boat,” said Lucas. “A submarine is called a boat.”

“One this size ought to be called a ship,” said Finn. He began to strip off his wet clothes.

Verne, still in something like a state of shock, caught him by the arm. “What are you doing?” he said.

“Taking off my wet clothes, what does it look like I’m doing?” Finn said.

“But, my good man, have you forgotten? There is a woman present..” His voice trailed off as he saw that Andre had stripped down to the buff and was stepping into one of the jumpsuits. He gaped at her, then quickly turned his head. “Mon Dieu!”

The diving Klaxon sounded and Verne jerked as if stung. “What on earth was that?” he said, alarmed.

“Unless I miss my guess,” said Lucas, “it is the signal the submarine is about to dive.”

The submarine tilted as it began its descent and both Verne and Land, not knowing what to expect, were thrown off-balance. Lucas sat down at the table and caught the tray with the coffee cups. It had started to slide.

“I suggest we all drink some of this coffee,” he said. “You, especially, Jules. You’re shivering like an epileptic.”

“I cannot cease marveling at this!” said Verne, sitting down at the table. “The water outside is freezing, yet it is as warm in here as on a summer’s day. What a superb accomplishment this vessel is! I must know more about it. What is its power source? How is the air stored for us to breathe? How-”

“I’d leave all those questions for later if I were you, and get out of those wet clothes,” said Finn. “Andre, turn your head so Jules doesn’t die of embarrassment.”

“What I can’t figure is how this submarine boat managed to sink our ship,” said Land. “It ain’t likely that it rammed us, because of the explosion. But how could they have fired when they were under the water?”

“It’s called a torpedo, Ned,” said Lucas.

“What, you mean a mine?” said Land.

“No, this is a different sort of device,” said Lucas. “It’s fired from a tube within this boat while-”

“Yes, of course!” said Verne, interrupting him, carried away by his own enthusiasm. “The self-propelled torpedo! Built by the Englishman, Robert Whitehead. I have read of it. Whitehead worked from a design by the Austrian naval officer, Giovanni Luppis. But the Whitehead-Luppis torpedo is still only an experimental stage device. It is 14 feet long and 14 inches in diameter, as I recall, weighing some 300 pounds and carrying 18 pounds of dynamite in its nose. It is powered by a compressed-air engine which turns a small propeller and impels it at a speed of 6 knots for a maximum range of 700 yards.”

“By Heaven, does this man know everything?” said Land.

“Admittedly, I do have a certain eclectic expertise in various fields,” said Verne, “but I am a mere dabbler in such matters, a dilettante. The fact is, my friends, I have recently been giving a great deal of consideration to writing a novel, one of my voyages extraordinaires, about a submarine vessel much like this one. I have been doing a considerable amount of research to that end, but never did I dream I would actually find myself aboard such a craft! To think of the book I shall he able to write after this experience!”

“Assuming we survive it,” Andre said. “And assuming you don’t catch pneumonia from standing around with your pants down around your legs.”

“Sacre bleu!” Verne flushed a deep crimson and quickly pulled his soaking trousers back up. Finn laughed and tossed him one of the jumpsuits.

“Try one of these,” he said.

“I promise not to look,” said Andre, turning around.

Verne quickly removed his wet clothing and slipped into the jumpsuit.

“So that’s what happened to the Scotia,”. Land said. “She was sunk by one of them torpedo devices.” He shook his head. “What ship would stand a chance ‘gainst a vessel with such weapons?”

“I’m afraid this submarine is equipped with weapons far more deadly,” Lucas said. “We were very fortunate. The Abraham Lincoln might just as easily have been obliterated without a trace in less than an instant.”

Land frowned. “How is it that you know these things, Professor?”

“Because he is not a professor, Mr. Land,” said a deep voice from behind them. The door had opened silently without their noticing it. In the doorway, flanked by two men with drawn automatic pistols, stood a tall, heavily muscled man with raven-black hair lightly streaked with white and unusually bright, emerald-green eyes. His face would have possessed a classic, almost Byronic beauty were it not for the knife scar which ran from beneath his left eye in a straight line across his cheekbone to just above the corner of his mouth. His features were Slavic; a high forehead, blade-straight nose and a prominent jawline with a square chin. His posture was elegant; ramrod straight, yet somehow languid. He was dressed in a tailored naval uniform of dark blue cotton with gold captain’s bands upon the sleeves of his coat and shoulderboards. The insignia was incongruously British. The coat had double rows of heavy brass buttons and, in a quite unmilitary touch, he had a deep-purple silk handkerchief neatly folded in the left-hand breast pocket. The handkerchief matched the purple ascot tie held down with a diamond stickpin. That pin was his sole adornment with the exception of a large ruby worn on the left hand.

Andre caught her breath. “Drakov!”

“It’s so nice to be remembered, Miss Cross,” he said with a smile. “And Mr. Delaney and Mr. Priest, as well. Quite a reunion. I had an intuition we might meet again. Tell me, is my father well?”

“He’s better than he would be if he knew you were behind this,” said Finn.

“Would one of you mind explaining what the devil this is all about?” said Land.

“Certainly,” said Drakov. “If someone would be so kind as to introduce us, sir, I would be happy to oblige.”

“Nikolai Drakov, Ned Land,” said Lucas. “Ned is a harpooner by profession. Drakov’s calling, Ned, would be a bit more difficult to explain. I’m not even sure I know what it is, but I can hazard a few guesses. At this point, calling him a pirate wouldn’t be too far off the mark. And this is Mr. Jules Verne.”

Drakov looked surprised. “Not the famous novelist, surely?”

Verne smiled slightly and inclined his head.

“Well, this is indeed an honor,” Drakov said. “I am among your most devoted readers, sir. In fact, I have renamed this submarine in honor of your own creation. I bid you welcome aboard the Nautilus.”

Verne looked puzzled. “But I have never written-”

“Ah, but you shall, Mr. Verne,” said Drakov, with a smile. “You shall.”

“Well, whoever in blazes you might be,” said Land, “you’ve a lot to answer for. I have-”

“I answer to no one, Mr. Land,” said Drakov, curtly. “This vessel is mine and aboard it, I am the sole authority. This is my world and you exist in it at my discretion. I could just as easily have submerged while you sat upon my deck, braying like a drunken dockworker. If you cannot behave in a more civilized manner, I will have you placed in a torpedo tube and ejected from my ship.”

Land swore softly in French.

“You are quite correct, Mr. Land,” said Drakov, tersely. “I am, literally, a bastard. And fluent in French, as well. You have now been cautioned twice. Your next transgression shall be your last.”

Land remained silent, glowering at him.

“You must forgive Ned, Captain Drakov,” Verne said, anxious to placate their host. “His belligerence is… well, after all, sir, you did sink our ship.”

“Only after I was fired upon, Mr. Verne,” said Drakov. “Or do you not regard that as sufficient provocation?”

The author cleared his throat uneasily. “Yes, well, to be sure, you have a point, sir. However, we… that is, Commander Farragut and his crew had no idea it was a vessel they were firing upon. They were-”

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Drakov, impatiently. “They were hunting a sea monster of some sort. I do try to remain au courant, Mr. Verne. I was well aware of the Abraham Lincoln’s mission.”

Verne’s eyes grew wide. “Then you deliberately-”

“I did nothing of the sort, if I may anticipate you,” said Drakov. “Nothing would have pleased me more than to avoid your ship entirely. However, I am Fate’s cats-paw. A living paradox. The forces which move me are not always under my control. As you can see, Fate has reunited me with three old adversaries.” He swept his arm out to indicate Finn, Andre and Lucas.

“Which brings up the subject of what you’re going to do about us,” Finn said.

“I haven’t yet decided,” Drakov said. “I could have you killed, of course.”

“No!” said Verne. “Surely, a man of your accomplishment-”

“Would be more than justified, under the circumstances,” Drakov said. “They were sent to destroy me. There is more involved here than even your imagination could encompass. But we can pursue that another time. Right now, I must decide what to do about the five of you.”

“Five?” said Verne.

“Yes, regrettably, your injured companion died moments ago. My medical officer could do nothing for him.”

“Did he even try?” said Andre.

Drakov fixed her with a piercing glare. “I told you once before, Miss Cross. Whatever else I may be, I am not a barbarian. I could, for example, easily have destroyed the lifeboats from the Abraham Lincoln, yet I did not. Your Commander Farrgut will live to be an admiral. I regret the loss of life, but they brought it on themselves.”

“What about the Scotia?” Land said. “Or do you regard that as an impertinent question?”

“The Scotia was a munitions ship,” said Drakov. “She was carrying supplies of war. Sending her to the bottom was an humanitarian act.”

Verne started to speak, then thought better of it. Land’s reply was cut off by Lucas, who reached out and squeezed his upper arm in warning.

“Do we at least get to find out why you took this sub before you kill us?” Lucas asked.

“I did not say I would kill you, only that I could,” said Drakov. “You see, I am giving you more consideration than you would have given me. There are other choices. I could compel your obedience in the same way I have the Soviet sailors’. I would prefer not to have to do that. Fate has delivered you into my hands and until I know the reason, I will not act hastily. If you will agree to be bound by the conventions of prisoners of war, I will allow you the run of the ship so long as you do not interfere with me or with my crew. The first hostile act by any one of you will instantly result in the death of all. Your signal implants will be removed and you will surrender your warp discs to me, of course.”

“And if we don’t accept those terms?” said Lucas.

“I should think them to be very reasonable, all things considered,” Drakov said. “If you find you cannot accept them, you are free to clock out. Having gone to so much trouble to find me, I can see where you might be reluctant to do so until you have at least deduced my plans. Also, you would be forced to leave Mr. Land and Mr. Verne behind. Mr. Land I could certainly do without, but I would be loathe to deprive myself of Mr. Verne’s company. That leaves you with three other choices. Death, re-education, or being left locked in this cabin until I decide what else to do with you. So, which is it to be?”

“How do you know you can trust us?” said Delaney.

“You, Mr. Delaney, I know I cannot trust. However, you are vastly outnumbered and unarmed. Moreover, you will all be responsible for each other’s lives. I do not regard you as a threat, merely as a potential for annoyance.”

“All right,” said Lucas. “We’ll accept your terms.”

“Good,” said Drakov. “You will give Sasha your warp discs, please. Mess will be served in the wardroom in one hour. I would be pleased if you would join me.” With a curt nod of his head, he departed.

“Merde,” said Land. “I understand none of this. What’s this about your being adversaries? How do you know this man?”

Lucas sighed. “Ned, you’re going to think you’ve fallen into a nest of raving lunatics after you’ve heard my explanation, but there’s no way around it. You’re going to have to know exactly what this is all about if we’re going to get out of this, so here goes. Brace yourself…”