Simon Hawke - The Nautilus Sanction

The crew of Drakov’s Nautilus numbered one hundred twenty men, excluding themselves. They had learned of a number of casualties reducing the original complement. The Russian captain and several of his officers, as well as enlisted men, had not survived the change in command. Some had died during re-education, others had been killed trying to resist. Their guide upon the tour of the submarine, a young Soviet submariner named Sasha, answered all their questions frankly. He told them all members of the crew, with the exception of Drakov and his “officers,” as well as the ship’s doctor and its cooks, stood two four-hour watches each day in addition to work they had to perform off watch time.

Everywhere they went, they were carefully observed by members of the crew, but no one except Sasha spoke to them. There was no noise except for the hum of the ventilation system and the occasional gurgle of oil coming from the hydraulics, sounds which they quickly became accustomed to and ceased to hear. In the engine room, it was quite a different story. Crew members sat at their stations amid complex instruments and the noise of pumps, generators, turbines and reduction gears. The rapidly spinning propeller shafts turning at hundreds of revolutions per minute seemed not to move at all, except for a slight blur as they revolved. The control room of the sub resembled a bridge on a starship, with a semicircular central control station and a console holding banks of instruments. The helmsman controlled the planes on the submarine’s sail for depth and handled the rudder to maintain course. The stern planesman trimmed the up and down angle of the sub by means of the stern planes, located forward of the propellers. The diving officer kept his eyes on gauges and dials on a large panel before him, monitoring the sub’s depth, rate of dive during descent, the amount of roll the vessel was subjected to and gave orders to the planesmen. The chief of the watch was in charge of the water ballast, shifting it from one tank to another, depending upon requirements. The quartermaster of the watch was the submarine’s navigator; the radioman had little to do save monitor transmissions and the engineering officer supervised the dozen men who operated the propulsion plant.

They cruised at a depth of two hundred feet, maintaining a speed of thirty knots, none of the power driving the Nautilus being wasted in turbulence. At their depth, pressure negated turbulence. The submarine experienced reduced resistance to forward motion at depth. There was no propeller slippage and speed was easier to achieve and maintain than on the surface. Except when the decks tilted during a dive or an ascent, there was no sensation of movement whatsoever. In answer to a question from Finn, Sasha told them, in English, that despite carrying a crew of over one hundred, the submarine could be operated by as few as a dozen men in an emergency. He was very proud of his ship-he used the term “boat,” a direct translation from the Russian podvodnaya lodka, meaning submarine boat-and he was proud of his command of English. His military bearing was at curious odds with his appearance. He had started to grow his hair long and was doing his best to grow a beard. He wore a gold circle in his left ear and the cutoff sleeves of his jumpsuit revealed recent tattoos executed in an intricate, Oriental style with vivid reds, yellows, oranges and blues. A Chinese dragon covered his entire upper arm on the left side and his right arm was graced with a nude, almond-eyed woman whose hair fanned out to frame her entire body. The workmanship was exquisite.

“Shiro worked three hours on her,” he said, smiling. “I wonder if his sister looks at all like this. If so, I must somehow arrange to meet her one day.”

“I wonder if the little heathen would do one for me,” said Land.

“I am certain he would, if you were to ask,” said Sasha. “It seems to give him great pleasure, though it is hard to tell, he always looks so serious.”

“What do you think of all this, Sasha?” Lucas said.

The young Russian frowned. “All this?”

“Being a member of the Soviet Navy one day and a time pirate the next,” said Lucas.

Sasha smiled. “Time pirate. I like the sound of that. It is what we do, pirate time. How should I feel about it? I have been re-educated. I am, of course, aware of my previous loyalties, but they no longer matter. This is a new life. I am a new person. Captain Drakov has been very good to us. Mr. Benedetto has explained how he could have obliterated all our memories of what we were, but the captain would not allow that. He did not wish to rob us of our souls. He did not wish to make puppets of us.”

“Didn’t he?” said Finn.

“You met him; you saw what he is like,” said Sasha. “He is a great man, destined for great things. We are all a part of something much more important now.”

“And what would that be?” Andre said.

“You should ask the captain,” Sasha replied evasively.

“He didn’t want to rob you of your souls,” said Finn, “but he robbed you of the ability of making choices for yourselves.”

“That is not true,” said Sasha. “He helped us see to make the correct choices. And there are those among us who did not require re-educating. They were able to see clearly for themselves.”

“Which of the crew would those be?” Lucas said.

“Only the captain and Mr. Benedetto would know that,” said Sasha. “We were not told, so we would not feel inferior to those of our shipmates who were more perceptive than we.”

“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Finn said.

“Of course.”

“Very egalitarian of the captain,” Finn said, wryly.

Back in their cabin, Land stretched out upon one of the lower bunks and put his hands behind his head. “Maybe I’m starting to lose my mind, too,” he said, “or else this vessel truly is from some future time. I’ve never seen the like of it.”

“When you have exhausted all the possible explanations, Ned,” said Lucas, “consider the impossible. Try to imagine what it would have been like for a primitive caveman from the dawn of time to stand upon the decks of an iron steamship. If you can picture that, then put yourself in that caveman’s place and you will begin to understand what has happened to you.”

“This story Drakov told, about being able to destroy a city the size of Paris with but one of his explosives, can it be true?”

“Regrettably, Ned, it’s only too true.”

“Merde,” said Land. “A man with such power, he could bring the nations of the world to their knees.”

“Conceivably,” said Lucas, “but I don’t think that’s what he intends.”

“Why not?” said Land. “How could any man resist such a temptation?”

“In this time, with this submarine, Drakov could easily make himself the ruler of the world,” said Lucas. “However, doing something like that would make him too obvious a target for others like ourselves. He has to remain hidden. He has to keep moving. He has become the object of an unprecedented hunt, Ned. And there are weapons in the future far more terrible than those he has on board. What makes him safe is his mobility, not only through the oceans of the world, but through all of time, as well. We found him only with the greatest luck. Or perhaps he found us. Maybe he really is the tool of destiny.”

“You don’t believe that, surely?” Land said.

Lucas grinned. “I’m not even sure I believe in belief.”

“The trouble is,” said Andre, “there seems to be no way we can stop him short of sabotaging this submarine, somehow. Only how to do it and survive?”

“Where in our orders does it say we’re supposed to survive?” said Finn. “Maybe another team will get a crack at him. If they don’t botch the job like we did, then our worries will be over. Permanently.”