“Yet, lest you should think this new fire of Prometheus is an inestimable boon to mankind-which it is-atomic energy has its darker side, and you will find that aboard the Nautilus, as well. The energy obtained by the fission of any given amount of uranium, released at an uncontrolled rate as an explosive, is millions of times more powerful than dynamite.
“You may have noticed large, round hatches in the deck of the Nautilus when you came aboard. Beneath each is a missile kept in a compartment called a silo. Think of these missiles as being rockets, if you will, of a very advanced nature. Each of these missiles carries fourteen atomic warheads, only one of which would be more than sufficient to level a city the size of Paris. From aboard this submarine, even while submerged, I can fire my missiles at any spot upon the globe. So, as you can see, I have at my command both the benevolent nature of atomic power and its destructive capability, which is the greatest the world has ever seen.”
“You neglected to mention how you came by it,” said Finn.
“Yes,” said Drakov. “In that sense, Mr. Priest was quite correct in his earlier assessment of me. I am a pirate. I stole this vessel.”
“But… for what purpose?” Verne said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I told you, Mr. Verne, I am Fate’s cats-paw. I am but following my destiny. Your three friends here are soldiers from a future time. At some later point, perhaps, you might wish to ask them the nature of their duties and why those duties have become necessary. Oh, I beg your pardon. Will become necessary. That which I explained to you just now heralded the dawn of a new age for mankind in the 20th century. The age of atomic power. It enabled mankind to reach farther than ever before, widening the horizons of science. Yet, as ever, mankind’s grasp exceeds its reach. I told you I am a living paradox. Allow me to explain.
“Mr. Land earlier called me a bastard in his anger and he was quite correct. I am. My father, as it happens, is a man well known to Mr. Priest, Mr. Delaney and Miss Cross. His name is Forrester and he is their commander. As they have traveled to this time, so Colonel Forrester traveled to the time of my mother, where he seduced her and begat me. I am a man who should never have been born, Mr. Verne. At the time my father impregnated my mother, he himself would not have been born for hundreds of years. An impossibility, you say. Yet, here I am. A man who should not exist, brought into being by Fate to bring about an end to that which cannot exist, but does. There is an order to the universe and in the time from which these three soldiers came, mankind has disturbed that order. It has taken me a great many years, Mr. Verne, for I am far older than you think I am, to understand the purpose behind my existence. I was born to set things right, to restore order to the universe. And you, Mr. Verne, shall see it done. You shall be my Boswell. I could not have asked for a better man. But there is still much remaining to be done, many preparations needing to be made, before I can undertake the task Fate has set before me. You will learn things you have not dreamed of, see wonders beyond even your not inconsiderable imagination. My fate will forever alter yours. You have, indeed, a voyage extraordinaire ahead of you. And now, if you good people will excuse me, I will take leave of your company. I have matters to attend to.”
Drakov rose, followed by Shiro, and left the wardroom.
Verne gulped down some wine. “My head is swimming,” he said. “A power that could level Paris! Rays, particles, unheard of elements, I must see this library he spoke of!”
“I would be pleased to show it to you, Mr. Verne,” Count Grigori said in French. “Come.”
They left together, the author dwarfed by the gargantuan von Kampf.
“How does he fit through the hatchways?” Andre said.
“With a certain amount of difficulty,” Benedetto said, smiling a vulpine grin.
“We know why the others are in this with him,” Finn said to Martingale. “What’s in it for you?”
“I thought he made that clear,” drawled Martingale. “Money.”
“Just money?” Lucas said, wryly.
“There are easier ways of making money than being a soldier,” Martingale said. “I’m sure you know that. But it’s all I know. It’s what I do best. Besides, how many mercenaries can claim to have served in action across the boundaries of time? I wouldn’t trade this for the world, Priest. It’s one hell of a kick. See you round.”
He got up and sauntered out of the wardroom, carrying a whiskey bottle with him.
“A kick,” said Lucas. He glanced at Benedetto, who sat sipping wine and smoking a cigarette. “You know Drakov’s insane, don’t you?”
Benedetto shrugged. “I am not a judgmental individual. Who is to say what is sanity and what is not? I prefer to deal in the hard sciences and leave metaphysics to besotted Irish philosophers such as Finn Delaney.” He glanced at Finn and raised his wineglass in a toast.
“You haven’t changed at all, Santos,” said Delaney. “You’re still a pretentious asshole.”
“My, my, such invective,” Benedetto said. “And here I am trying so hard to be civil.”
“Where did all this come from?” Lucas said, indicating the tapestries around them. “The jewelry some of these men are wearing looks almost priceless. You and Drakov indulging in some temporal piracy?”
“Only in a manner of speaking,” Benedetto said. “Any military or even quasi-military unit requires funding. We have been amassing a treasury. A little from this time period, a little from that, it gradually multiplies. The sea is quite munificent. We have the richest shipwrecks of history at our disposal.”
“You’re equipped for salvage?” Finn said.
“Not in the manner you suggest,” said Benedetto. “We have individual diving apparatus on board, suits equipped with hemosponges which act as gills, deriving oxygen from seawater. A bit of future technology that quite impresses our crew. I never go out, myself. It unsettles me. But the Russians rather enjoy it. They compete fiercely for the privilege. They are allowed to keep a portion of what is discovered for themselves and they often bring back a few delicacies to dress up the table. We have lobsters aboard the size of German Shepherds. Crabs that could easily crush a femur in their pincers. They find it great sport to collect such things.”
“Where do we fit in?” said Andre.
“Your status, it would appear, is that of uninvited guests,” said Benedetto. “You are not entirely unwelcome, however. Martingale does not like anyone, but I am happy for your presence. It gives me stimulating company. I find these Russians tiresome. Very boring fellows. No brio whatsoever. Especially our Count Grigori. A very moody fellow. I much prefer your companionship.”
“You can joke, Santos, but we’re going to stop you somehow,” Finn said.
“What?” said Benedetto, with a feigned look of outrage. “After you gave your word to the good captain?”
“Don’t be a fool.”
Benedetto chuckled. “Finn, I bear you no hard feelings. No ill will whatsoever. We have always been upon opposing sides. I respect you for your accomplishments and for who you are. It was no easy feat to overcome the Timekeepers. I suspect, also, that you bear me a certain grudging respect, as well. Because of this, I would advise you strongly not to attempt anything against Nikolai Drakov. Your chances for success this time are quite small. I would hate to see you fall into the clutches of that little Oriental savage, Shiro. He frightens even me. Martingale and von Kampf are no less deadly, in their way, but Shiro is fanatically devoted to Nikolai and he is utterly ruthless. Look closely into that young boy’s eyes and you will see snakes writhing.”