“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.