Victor laughed at him. “You look ridiculous.”
Pierre gave him a scowl. “How I look is irrelevant. I will complete the mission for His Majesty and prove myself worthy of being a member of the Ordre.
Celeste finished making sure the suit was sea-worthy. Finally, she turned her attention to Pierre’s faceplate.
Jeanne said to him, “Once she shuts that plate, you won’t be able to hear us accept through the tube running from your suit to the ship. So before that happens, I want to make sure you understand your job. Get down there, find the wreckage of the Spanish galleon and attach the cables we’ve already lowered into the water. Then tug on your suit’s tube and we’ll pull you back up. Be as fast as you can, because if any Spanish vessels show up, we’re going to have a serious problem explaining this. Understood?”
“Yes, Commander.” She could tell he still didn’t entirely trust her, but as long as the mission remained uneventful it wouldn’t be a problem.
“All right, then. Seal the faceplate.”
Celeste did so, and Pierre proceeded to climb down the ladder. When he reached the bottom he simply let go and plunged into the sea.
***
Pierre floated to the bottom of the sea, about thirty feet down. He tested his arms and legs in the suit and was satisfied he could move freely in it under water.
He looked around. Visibility was moderate, though he couldn’t see too far in any direction. Still, he felt confident that if a ship really was resting somewhere down here, he’d be able to find it before long.
He walked over to where the two cables had been dropped from the Solaire and took hold of them. He then decided to test the tube attached to his helmet. “Can you hear me, Solaire?”
“I hear you, Lieutenant, though your voice sounds a bit distorted.”
“So does yours, Commander. I suppose tube technology still has a ways to go.”
Jeanne de Fleur chuckled lightly. “Perhaps you’re not as stiff as I originally thought, Lieutenant. Anyway—do you see the galleon?”
“Not yet, but it can’t hide from me for long, assuming it’s actually down here.”
“You doubt the intelligence we received?”
“You must admit—it’s awfully convenient for a ship carrying gold to go down so close to France when our country is in such need of it.” There was a pause. “You’ve been thinking the same thing, haven’t you, Commander?”
“The thought did occur to me. But we’re the only ship around up here. I don’t see how this could be a trap.”
“I don’t, either, but—wait!”
“What?”
“I thought I saw something. A dark shape.” He squinted his eyes, trying to see ahead of him. Was it his imagination?
“Is it the galleon?”
He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “No. I could have sworn it was moving.”
“Probably just a fish.”
He seriously doubted it. Whatever it was—assuming his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him—was much too large to have been a fish. He would have felt crazy trying to argue that with the Commander, though; he had already made a fool of himself in front of her the day before. He didn’t need to do so again. He may not have been particularly excited about having a woman as his superior, but his fate was in her hands nonetheless.
It appeared again. Large and dark, now it was steadily coming toward him. “That’s no fish.”
“What did you say?”
“You’re going to think I’ve lost my mind, but I’m seeing an underwater ship.”
“A what?”
“It’s cylindrical, made of metal, and it’s coming right for me!”
“Remain calm, Lieutenant. We’ll pull you up.”
But when the thing got within fifty feet of him, a hatch opened up on its side, and something shot out of it. It was a net, and it quickly engulfed him. The tube on his helmet tugged, trying to pull him away, but the net pulled harder and the tube was ripped free. Water filled his suit and soon he couldn’t breathe. He struggled to stay conscious as he was pulled inside the underwater ship.
***
“Lieutenant! Answer me!” Jeanne had been staying in contact with Lieutenant Girard from the engine room, but now she rushed to the top deck as Girard was reeled in.
However, the only thing that came up was the tube. Jeanne knew what that meant; without the tube, water would fill his diving suit and he would be unable to breathe. If they didn’t get him out of there soon, he would drown.
She gripped the deck railings until her hand went numb. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t have just lost another comrade again so soon. Her worst fears were coming true before her eyes; she was proving to be an unfit leader.
Celeste came out of the hatch onto the deck. “Did he make it up?” She saw the tube by itself and got her answer. She became deathly quiet.
Jeanne managed to mentally slap herself back to her senses. “Go get Victor. Tell him to hurry.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The engineer went back below deck.
Jeanne turned her attention back to the sea below them, and that was when she saw it: A dark shape rising to the surface. “What on earth…?”
It broke the surface next to the Solaire and it was exactly what Lieutenant Girard had said it was—a submersible vessel. It was perhaps thirty feet long, made out of iron, with a propeller and rudder on the end.
Half a dozen hatches opened along the top of it. The whole thing then pitched forward, and Jeanne was stunned when six figures suddenly launched out of the compartments as if by some spring-loaded mechanism.
The six men—each wearing dark full-body suits Jeanne guessed were for swimming—landed on different areas of the top deck, surrounding her. Jeanne reached for her rapier, but then realized she had left it on the bridge.
“I bring you greetings, señorita,” the man who had landed next to the Solaire’s hatch said. “My name is Gernaldo Escobar. I am an agent of Charles IV of the Kingdom of Spain.”
He was tall, dark and handsome, but Jeanne instinctively despised him. “What have you done with my officer?”
Escobar gave her a slimy grin. “He is being well-taken care of. Exactly how-well depends on your cooperation.”
Celeste suddenly emerged from the hatch. Escobar grabbed her and wrapped a thin wire—which he must have been concealing under his suit—around her throat. “Día de suerte!” he rejoiced. “More leverage for us.”
Victor then came out of the hatch, but by then Escobar had secured his hostage. “Let her go.”
“Now why would I do that? She’s giving me the edge I need. No, I think she’ll be staying with me.”
Jeanne balled her hand into a fist. “What do you want?”
“This,” he said, gesturing to indicate the Solaire. “We don’t have anything like this in Spain. Sure, we have the barco submarino which you just saw, but it is not so impressive as this masterpiece you fly all over creation in.”
“Are you mad?” Jeanne said. “I’m not handing over the pinnacle of France’s technological prowess to you brigands.”
“Oh, but I think you will. Look over at our submarino.” She did, and the underwater vessel was now gone. “If I do not return to my ship within thirty minutes, your officer will be gutted like a fish. And only I may return; they will not open up for anyone else. So please,” he gestured to the Solaire’s hatch, “let us come aboard.”
They went down into the airship, flanked by Escobar’s swarthy henchmen. When they arrived on the bridge, Escobar marveled at the impressive feat of engineering the whole thing was. “Once we get this back to Spain, you can take your time and tell us how it all works. But for now, just give my men the basics. Show us the controls.”
Jeanne instructed the operators at the bulky consoles in front of the bridge’s canopy window to step aside and let Escobar’s minions take over. Escobar himself stood behind them in front of the captain’s chair, keeping pressure firmly applied to Celeste’s t
hroat.
Jeanne said, “The left console handles ascent and decent—going up and down. The right console controls acceleration and steering.”
“Good,” Escobar said. “Once I am satisfied my men have the hang of it, I shall report back to my submarino and your officer will be returned to you.”
That was a lie, Jeanne was sure. Escobar would probably keep Lieutenant Girard prisoner until they landed in Spain, at which point she had little doubt they would all be killed—unless she did something, and fast.
With the crushing weight of her responsibility to her subordinates upon Jeanne’s shoulders, she could have crumbled. Or she could rise to the challenge.
She rose.
She pointed to a button on the left console and said, “Press that button to ascend into the air.” She then looked at Victor, and he nodded. He knew she was lying; he knew what that button actually did.
The Spaniard at the controls looked skeptical, but Escobar said, “Do it. The señorita knows better than to lie to us with so much at stake.”
The man pressed the button, and suddenly the bridge was engulfed in a cloudy white gas—carbon dioxide. It had fallen from holes in the ceiling, and it was normally used to put out fires on the bridge. “Qué traición es esto?” Escobar yelled. Visibility had become almost nonexistent.
Jeanne called out to the young engineer, “Celeste! Remember what I taught you.”
“Right!”
Jeanne heard Celeste grunt, followed by the sound of an anguished Escobar. “Come to my voice!”
The bespectacled girl maneuvered through the white cloud and joined her. By now the gas had cleared enough so that Jeanne could make out her targets. Victor was engaged with several of them. The rest were still blinded by the carbon dioxide.
Jeanne strode over to where her rapier lay against the wall. She retrieved her weapon and proceeded to run her enemies through, one after another, until the bridge was cleared of hostiles, save for a whimpering Escobar who lay on the floor doing his best to shield his goods from further harm.
She knelt in front of him. “And now, Señor Escobar, you’re going to tell us how to get aboard your underwater vessel.”
“Ir al infierno, puta,” he spat.
“We would prefer it if you gave us the information in a language we understand,” Victor said.
“I said, ‘Go to hell, bitch’.”
“Celeste,” Jeanne said. “Go to the engine room and bring us back a hot rod, straight out of the fire. Our friend here is about to be neutered.”
Escobar’s eyes went wide and all the color drained from his face in what seemed like an instant. “I’ll talk! I’ll talk! In order to get the submarino to open up for you, you have to knock on the hull in a specific way.”
Jeanne said, “We appreciate your cooperation, Señor Escobar.”
And with that, she began preparations to save Lieutenant Girard.
***
Once she learned Escobar’s secret knock, Jeanne removed her armor and put on his rubber diving suit after she discovered it was one-size-fits-all.
“What are you doing, Commander?” Victor asked her when she returned to the bridge wearing the suit. “I thought it was decided I would be the one to rescue Lieutenant Girard should anything happen to him.”
Jeanne said, “To be honest, I assigned you that role because I didn’t have confidence in myself. I’m actually a fair diver.”
He tried to reason with her. “Look, I realize you feel the need to prove yourself—”
She cut him off. “You’re right. I do need to prove my ability to command—but not to you. A leader must first have confidence in herself. I have to do this.”
Victor sighed, but did not argue any further.
A few minutes later, Jeanne dove off the deck of the Minuit Solaire into the sea and headed for the point where Escobar said the submersible was awaiting his return.
3
The barco submarino, September 3, 1788 (Infini Calendar), 10:41 a.m.
Pierre sat against the hull of the underwater vessel with his hands firmly tied behind him. The Spaniards had stripped him of his diving suit and forced him to change into beige prisoner clothes.
Although the submersed ship had seemed like a technological marvel from the outside, on the inside it was far from it. Water was leaking in from numerous points on the hull (several Spaniards worked bilge pumps constantly to remove it), and there didn’t seem to be many rooms, (mostly there were alcoves with doors, which the other Spaniards had gone into to leave the ship); the bulk of the vessel was one cylindrical corridor.
The Spaniards’ leader, Gernaldo Escobar, had said he was going up to the Solaire to make a deal with Commander de Fleur: Pierre’s release for the entire airship. Pierre didn’t think de Fleur would give in, but nor did he know her well enough to be sure. If she handed over the Solaire to Escobar, their mission would end in spectacular disgrace—assuming they survived this ordeal at all.
Suddenly there was a rhythmic knocking reverberating along the hull. “Es el commandante,” one of the Spaniards said. He went into the men’s room—although Pierre was fairly certain the room handled the expulsion of waste as well as people, since that was where Escobar went when he left the underwater vessel—and was in there for a few moments. He then yelled, “Que es esto?” followed by a crunch and a pained grunt, and a moment later Escobar emerged from the room.
Wait—it wasn’t Escobar; it was Commander de Fleur, wearing Escobar’s form-fitting diving suit. “Commander?” Pierre said, astonished.
“That’s right.” She untied him.
He got to his feet. “I didn’t expect you to come save me.”
She said emphatically, “I’m not losing any more comrades.”
The men working the bilge pumps in the corridor stood there, evidently unsure of what to do. After watching the two knights for several seconds, they decided to defend their decrepit vessel and attacked them. Pierre and Commander de Fleur quickly took care of them, however. The crew members obviously weren’t trained fighters.
One man, whom Pierre took to be what passed for an officer on the submersed ship, came out of the tiny bridge, saw what was happening and quickly ducked back inside, shutting the door behind him.
“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre said.
But Jeanne said, “Not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
She pointed to the door that man had just shut himself behind. “Is that the bridge?”
“I think so, although it must be fairly cramped.”
“We’re going in there.”
He wasn’t sure he had heard that right. “What? Why?”
She explained, “They attacked us, Lieutenant. That means they attacked France. We can’t let that stand. We’re going to put this disgrace they call a submarino out of commission permanently.”
He thought it was crazy, but at the same time he liked her spirit. “Heh. All right; let’s do it.”
As expected, the door was locked. However, it didn’t look to be a particularly sturdy door. “On three,” Jeanne said. “One…two…three!” They brought their shoulders against the door. Despite the pain it caused, the door crashed open, and they were in the bridge.
Pierre thought it was far too small to be called a bridge. There were only two chairs surrounded on three sides by a U-shaped work station covered in switches and levers. Each of the three walls contained a port hole undoubtedly used for navigation.
One of the chairs was occupied by the underwater vessel’s equivalent of an operator. The other chair was empty, its occupant standing behind it, his back to Pierre and Commander de Fleur.
“I don’t know if you two can understand me, but we’re going to scuttle this thing, so you’d better leave,” Commander de Fleur warned.
The man in the chair looked over at his partner and said calmly, “Conoces nuestros pedidos.”
The other man nodded grimly.
“What did you say?” Pierre asked.
The man who was standing said, “We have our orders. Victory or death.”
Suddenly there was a hissing noise. The man turned around…and he was holding a live stick of dynamite!
“Run!” Commander de Fleur yelled.
Pierre and the Commander bolted down the corridor. A few moments later an explosion sent them crashing to the deck. Water rushed into the gaping maw that had just been ripped open behind them. They scrambled to the door which led to the room Pierre knew held their means of escape (he didn’t know if those spring-loaded alcoves worked underwater), while a torrent threatened to engulf them.
***
Victor paced back and forth on the top deck of the Minuit Solaire, anxiously waiting for Commander de Fleur and Lieutenant Girard to return. Despite his carefree attitude, he really was concerned for their safety. Plus, the lieutenant was a sexy beast.
Suddenly Victor heard a sound like an explosion, only it came from underwater. Oh, God—what happened down there?
For a few minutes there was silence. And then, miraculously, two figures pierced the surface of the water. It was them. “Are you two all right?”
“Never better,” Lieutenant Girard said dryly.
Commander de Fleur only nodded.
Victor helped them aboard the airship. “That must have been some adventure you had down there.”
“Just be glad you weren’t there,” Girard said.
***
Versailles, France, September 4, 1788 (Infini Calendar), 9:00 a.m.
They returned home and handed Escobar over to stand trial for his crimes. Of course, the Kingdom of Spain denied any involvement in the affair, and declared Escobar to be a rogue agent. To make matters worse, the Ordre had returned home without any gold, thus ensuring France’s financial woes would continue.
Jeanne was sitting in her office, not feeling particularly triumphant, when there was a knock at the door. “Enter,” she said. Lieutenant Girard and Celeste came in. “What can I do for you two?”
Secrets of the New World (Infini Calendar) (Volume 2) Page 17
