Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [153]
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.
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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 chose 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