Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [187]
It was a war that everyone knew France couldn’t win. The Prussians had superior numbers, superior artillery, superior leadership. In an inept debacle, Napoleon III had countermanded the orders of his generals and personally led the French army into battle at Sedan, with disastrous consequences. The Emperor and his troops were captured, and the Prussian army marched unopposed across the French countryside. In seventeen days, they had placed Paris under a siege that had not been broken for months. And now the people were starving, and the city was burning.
And Nemo was sure that Caroline would be there.
Riding low in the water like a giant crocodile, the Nautilus continued up the Seine, past Rouen, past St.-Germain. When they finally drifted beneath the numerous stone bridges spanning the river in Paris, Nemo watched the encamped Prussian army continue to bombard the city with artillery.
Confident of victory, the massed enemy troops did not even risk their lives by marching on Paris. They remained camped in position, untouchable and unbeatable. Their cannons launched incendiaries into the city, starting conflagrations that the beaten people could barely fight.
Still half submerged, as the Nautilus passed under the thick bridge pilings, Nemo’s crewmen pressed close to the portholes to look out at the besieged city. The ruined buildings and smoke were a grim reminder of the devastation at Rurapente. Dusk had fallen, and night was on its way, but fires splashed the sky with unrelenting orange.
“The City of Light,” Nemo remarked grimly, thinking of Emperor Napoleon III’s grand rebuilding program. He shook his head to see the waste, the destruction, the mayhem.
“Looks bad, Captain,” Harding said, jutting his dimpled jaw forward.
“No matter, Mr. Harding. These Prussians cannot stop us from doing what we must.”
As the cannonades and artillery thundered into the deepening night, Nemo ordered the Nautilus to surface, blowing all ballast. He opened the upper hatch and listened to the water as it trickled off the hull plates. The air of Paris smelled acrid with smoke, piled refuse, and raw sewage. And death. In the distance he could hear crackling flames, pounding guns, and the moans of a defeated people too tired and hungry to continue the fight.
Long ago, he had worked here as an engineer for the Emperor. He had helped build these bridges, designed some of the palatial buildings with the civil engineer Haussmann. Now, in a matter of months, the Prussians were destroying all the restoration Napoleon III had accomplished.
But Nemo could not find it in his heart to mourn the loss of things -- not buildings or boulevards, not sculptures or fountains. With his rediscovered conscience, after causing so much mayhem of his own, he cared more about the lives at stake. He now knew he couldn’t single-handedly stop the wars. How had he ever been foolish enough to believe that more killing was the answer? There were some things men would have to learn for themselves. . . .
Right now, Caroline’s very life might be at stake. Nothing mattered more than that. He had failed her so many times before.
Perhaps as the Prussian armies approached, she had been wise enough to gather her possessions, close down the offices of ‘Aronnax, Merchant,’ and flee the city . . . but Nemo knew she wasn’t that sort of person. Caroline Hatteras would never have given up. She would have stayed at the offices even under artillery bombardment.
Cyrus Harding guided the sub-marine toward the crowded docks and rowhouses. When the armored vessel had tied up to the high brick bank, Nemo took a pistol and a scimitar -- odd and archaic choices in the face of the modern Prussian army -- but the Nautilus carried few other weapons.
“I will go alone,