The Swarm

PART FOUR SINKING

DEEPFLIGHT

Anderson's punch never came.

A few seconds earlier the crew of the Independence had been thrown into a state of red alert: the dolphins had reported an unknown object. Now the sonar systems detected it too. Something of unspecified size and shape was approaching at speed. It didn't sound like a torpedo, and there was nothing on the sonar to show what could have launched it. What made the crew on the bridge and at the consoles particularly nervous wasn't merely its silent and rapid ascent, but that it was coming at them vertically. They stared at the monitors and watched as a round, bluish patch emerged from the darkness. A rippling orb was rushing towards them, at least ten metres in diameter, gaining in size and detail on their screens.

By the time Buchanan had given the order to shoot it down, it was already too late.

The sphere exploded directly beneath the hull. Over the last few minutes of its journey, the gas inside it had continued to expand, accelerating its ascent. As it raced upwards, the cocoon's thin skin of jelly had stretched to bursting point, then ripped open from top to bottom. The scraps hung in the water. The gas continued upwards, surging towards the surface, carrying a large rectangular object.

Spinning on its axis, the lost Deepflight raced towards the Independence, striking it bow-first and ramming its torpedoes through the hull.

An eternity elapsed.

And then the explosion.

BRIDGE

The enormous vessel quaked.

Buchanan, who had seen the disaster coming, narrowly succeeded in staying upright by clinging to the chart table. Others weren't so lucky and crashed to the floor. In the control rooms beneath the island the vessel shook so violently that the monitors cracked and pieces of equipment flew through the air. In the CIC Crowe and Shankar were thrown from their chairs. In a matter of seconds chaos had broken out all over the ship. The harsh buzz of the alarm had kicked in, mixed with shouting, running footsteps, and jangling, droning, clunking noises, as the rumblings spread through the passageways, along the compartments and from level to level.

Seconds after impact the majority of the engine and boiler-room technicians were dead. A vast crater had been torn in the hull amidships, where the ammunition magazines and the engine room, with its two LM 2500 gas turbines, were located. The gaping tear was twenty metres long. Water blasted in with the force of a sledge-hammer, killing everyone who had survived the explosion. Anyone trying to escape was confronted by locked doors. The only way to save the Independence was to sacrifice those in the catacombs of the vessel, locking them in with the raging water to prevent the torrent swamping the vessel.

DECK ELEVATOR

The platform shuddered violently, then catapulted Floyd Anderson over Johanson's head. The first officer flung out his arms, fingers clutching at the air, then fell face down, flipped over and lay motionless, eyes open and empty.

Vanderbilt was almost knocked off his feet. He let go of the gun, which slid across the platform, stopping centimetres from the edge. He caught sight of Johanson trying to drag himself upright, darted over and kicked him in the ribs. The scientist toppled sideways with a muffled cry. Vanderbilt had no idea what had happened to the vessel, only that it must have been disastrous. But his brief was to eliminate Johanson and he intended to fulfill it. He was bending down to drag the groaning, bleeding man across the platform, intending to throw him over the nets, when someone cannoned into him from the side.

'Vanderbilt, you bastard!' screamed Anawak.

Suddenly he found himself under attack. Anawak's fists were battering him with frenzied violence. Vanderbilt retreated. He raised his arms to shield his head, ducked to the side and kicked his assailant in the kneecap.

Anawak swayed and his legs gave way. Vanderbilt transferred his weight to the other foot. Most people who met Jack Vanderbilt misjudged his strength and agility. They saw only his girth. But he was fully trained in self-defence and martial arts and, despite his hundred or so kilos, could still perform some serious moves. He ran forward, threw himself into the air and rammed his boot against Anawak's sternum. Anawak thumped on to his back. His mouth opened in an O, but no sound came out. Good, thought Vanderbilt. He'd winded him. Bending down, he pulled Anawak up by the hair and shoved his elbow into the man's solar plexus.

That should do it. Now back to Johanson. Once he'd got the Norwegian into the water, Anawak could follow.

As he straightened up, he saw Greywolf bearing down on him. Vanderbilt went on the attack. He spun round, kicked out his right leg, made contact with his opponent – and rebounded.

That's not right, he thought, confused. The kick had been enough to make anyone slump to the floor or double up with pain. But the man continued towards him. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Suddenly Vanderbilt realised that he had no choice but to win this fight if he wanted to survive. His arms whirled above his head as he prepared to land the next blow. He lunged forward and felt his arm brushed away casually. Then Greywolf s left hand had buried itself in his double chin. Vanderbilt kicked out. Without breaking stride Greywolf shoved him towards the edge, raised his fist and punched.

Vanderbilt's field of vision exploded. Everything went red. There was a crunch as his nose broke. The next blow shattered his cheekbone. A gurgled scream rose from his throat. The fist rammed into his mouth. His teeth splintered. Vanderbilt was delirious with pain and rage. The giant's other hand prevented him moving. His face was being pulped.

Greywolf let go and Vanderbilt toppled backwards. He couldn't see much, just a bit of sky, grey asphalt and the yellow markings of the platform, all through a veil of blood. His gun was lying next to him. He reached for it, grasped it, jerked up his arm and fired.

For a moment it was quiet.

Had he hit him? He fired again. His arm sagged backwards. He caught a glimpse of Anawak looming above him, then the gun was knocked from his hand and he was looking into Greywolf's eyes.

Pain rushed through him.

He wasn't on his back any more, he was standing upright. Or was he hanging upside-down? He couldn't tell. He seemed to be floating. No, he was flying backwards. Through a mist of blood he saw the platform, then the edge of the platform, moving away from him, disappearing into the sky with the nets.

The cold hit him like a blow. Foaming water washed the blood from Vanderbilt's eyes, as his body dropped into the depths. There was no sign of the vessel, just featureless green, a darkening expanse from which a shadow emerged.

It was moving quickly. Its mouth opened as it approached.

Then there was nothing.

LAB

'What the hell are you playing at?'

'Let him go.'

The words were still echoing in Weaver's head: Peak's horrified question, followed by Li's brutal order. Then the lab shook and heeled. The rumble of the blast was drowned by a cacophony of noises as everything around them toppled and smashed. Weaver was hurled across the room with Rubin. They landed behind a bench in a hail of instruments and receptacles. A thunderous noise swept round the lab. Everything was vibrating. Then they heard glass shattering. Weaver's first thought was for the containment facility. She hoped to God that its hermetically sealed chambers and armoured glass would hold. On her butt, she shuffled away from Rubin.

She spotted the metal case of test-tubes. It had slid across the floor towards her feet. She and Rubin stared at it.

There was a brief pause while they weighed up their chances. Then Weaver lunged forward, but Rubin was quicker. He grabbed the case, jumped up and ran towards the back of the lab. Weaver swore, knowing she'd have to leave the shelter of the bench. Whatever was going on around them, no matter what Li was up to, she had to have that case.

Two soldiers were slumped on the floor. One lay still, but the other was clambering to his feet. The third had kept his balance and was holding his gun at the ready. Li bent down to take the weapon from the motionless body. At the next second it was pointing at Weaver. Peak was leaning stiffly against the locked door. 'Karen,' he shouted, 'don't move. We won't hurt you. For Christ's sake, Karen, don't move.'

His voice was drowned by the rattle of the gun. Weaver sprang, catlike, behind a nearby cluster of benches. She had no idea what Li was firing, but the ammunition shredded the benches as though they were cardboard. Splinters of glass flew past her head and a hundred kilograms of microscope crashed to the floor. Amid the chaos the alarm buzzed steadily. Suddenly Rubin was running towards her, eyes wide with panic.

'Mick!' yelled Li. 'Mick, you moron, get over here.'

Weaver dived out of her hiding-place. She flung herself on top of Rubin and seized the case. Just then the vessel shook again, and the room tilted further. Rubin slid across the floor and crashed into a shelving unit, which toppled over, bombarding him with test-tubes and trapping him on his back. He howled, his arms and legs waving in the air. Out of the corner of her eye Weaver saw Li turn the weapon towards her. The third soldier was leaping over the ruins of the benches. He had one of the enormous black weapons too, and raised it.

There was nowhere for her to run. She dropped down beside Rubin.

'Don't shoot,' she heard Li shout. 'It's too-'

The soldier fired. He missed her. The shots thudded against the deep-sea simulator, making a gong-like sound on the glass. They ploughed straight through the oval window in a single line from left to right.

Suddenly there was an eerie silence, except for the alarm, which continued to buzz at regular intervals. They all froze and stared transfixed at the tank. Weaver heard a single loud crack. She turned her head and saw fissures spreading through the enormous sheet of glass.

'Oh, God,' groaned Rubin.

'Mick,' veiled Li. 'Get the hell over here!'

'I can't,' he whimpered, 'It's my leg. I can't move.'

'Too bad,' said Li. 'He's expendable. Let's go.'

'You can't just-' Peak was cut off before he could finish.

'Open the door, Sal.'

If Peak said anything, no one heard it. There was a deafening hang as the glass shattered. Tonnes of seawater spurted towards them. Weaver ran. Behind her a torrent of water raged through the laboratory, knocking down everything in its path.

'Karen,' she heard Rubin cry out. 'Don't leave-'

The room was full of spray. She saw Peak limping through the door, followed by Li. As the commander walked out her hand hit a switch on the wall beside the door. Weaver knew what that meant.

Li intended to lock them inside.

Water rushed up her back, pitching her forward. She crashed to her knees and scrambled up. She was drenched, but her arms were still wrapped round the case. Panting and trying not to be dragged back by the tide, she fought her way to the door as it started to close. She covered the last few metres in a single bound, glanced off the doorframe and tumbled on to the ramp.

DECK ELEVATOR

Greywolf and Anawak helped Johanson to his feet. The biologist was in a bad way, but still conscious. 'Where's Vanderbilt?' he murmured.

'Gone fishing,' said Greywolf.

Anawak felt as though he'd been run over by a train. His belly was hurting so much that he could barely keep upright.

'Jack,' he kept saying, 'Jeez, Jack.' Greywolf had saved him again. It was becoming a tradition. 'How did you get here?'

'I was a bit short with you earlier,' said Greywolf 'I wanted to apologise.'

'Are you crazy? You shouldn't be apologising for anything.'

'Thank goodness he didn't see it that way,' said Johanson, between groans.

Greywolf's face was waxen beneath the copper-coloured skin. What's wrong with him? thought Anawak. Then his friend's shoulders slumped and his eyelids fluttered…

Suddenly he noticed that Greywolf's T-shirt was covered with blood. For a moment he allowed himself to believe it was Vanderbilt's. Then he saw that the stain was growing bigger – blood was spilling from his stomach. The ship was rocked by another blast and Johanson stumbled into him. Greywolf tipped forwards and disappeared over the edge.

Jack!' Anawak dropped to his knees and slid over to where Greywolf had been standing. He was caught in one of the nets, gazing up at him. The waves crashed below. Jack, give me your hand.'

Greywolf didn't move. He stared up at Anawak, pressing his hands to his belly. Blood welled through his fingers.

Vanderbilt. The bastard had shot him.

'It's going to be OK, Jack.' Words from a movie. 'Give me your hand. I'll pull you out of there. We can do it.'

Johanson crawled to the edge. Lying flat on his belly, he tried to reach down into the net, but his arms weren't long enough.

'You need to pick yourself up,' Anawak said. Then: 'Stay there, Jack. I'm coming down. I'll push you up, and Sigur can drag you from above.'

'No,' said Greywolf.

'Jack…'

'It's better this way.'

'Don't talk like that!' Anawak snapped at him. 'I don't want to hear any of that Hollywood shit about not worrying about you and leaving you to-'

'Leon, buddy.'

'Jack! I said no!'

A thin ribbon of blood trickled out of Greywolf's mouth. 'Leon…' He smiled. All of a sudden he seemed to relax. He sat up with a jerk, rolled towards the edge of the net and splashed into the waves.

LAB

Rubin couldn't see or hear. Water from the tank swirled over him. He wondered what on earth had happened in the last few seconds. Then he felt the raging mass of water lift the shelving unit off his leg. He rose, spluttering, to the surface.

Thank God for that, he thought. At least the worst is over. The tank held a hell of a lot of water, but not enough to flood the lab. Once it had spread out, it wouldn't come higher than a metre.

Where was Li?

The body of a soldier was drifting alongside him. Another picked himself up from the water in stunned confusion.

Li was gone.

She'd abandoned them.

Rubin looked at the water, then at the door. His mind cleared. He had to get out of there. There'd been an explosion on the vessel, and they were probably sinking.

He was about to stand up, when the laboratory started to glow.

Light flashed.

It wasn't only water escaping from the tank. He tried to get up, but skidded and fell backwards. His head disappeared under water. He paddled with his hands to steady himself, and met with resistance. Something smooth. It was moving.

Lightning flashed in his eyes, then his mouth was sealed as a film of jelly spread over his face. Rubin tore at it, but his fingers kept sliding off As soon as he touched it, it morphed or dissociated. New tissue formed in its place.

This can't be happening, he thought. No!

He opened his mouth and felt the substance glide inside. He was crazy with fear. A thin feeler snaked down his throat, while other tendrils invaded his nostrils. He retched, flailing wildly and rearing up in the water. The pain was unbearable, as though instruments of torture were being inserted inside his skull. In a final moment of clarity he realised that the jelly was inside his brain.

Ever since the incident on the well deck, Rubin had been wondering whether it was strategic intention, mere curiosity or a primeval drive to crawl inside whatever looked interesting that led the yrr to explore the human brain.

Now he would wonder no more.

GREYWOLF

He felt peace. Utter calm. That probably wasn't what Vanderbilt had felt. Vanderbilt had been afraid. His death had been brutal, and rightly so, but it was different without fear.

Greywolf sank into the depths. He held his breath. Despite the terrible pain in his guts he was determined not to breathe out. Not because he thought he could lengthen his life. It was a last exertion of will-power, a final act of self-control. He would determine when the water should enter his lungs.

Licia was down there. Everything he'd ever wanted, everything he'd valued, was under water. It was only logical that he was on his way there too. It was time for him to go.

Live a good life, and one day you'll come back as an orca.

He saw a dark shadow flit through the water above him. Then another. The whales paid him no attention. That's right, thought Greywolf, I'm your friend. You won't hurt me. He knew, of course, that the real explanation was more prosaic. They hadn't noticed him. Orcas like those had no friends. They weren't even orcas any more. They had been subjugated by a species that was as ruthless as mankind.

But some day it would be OK again. The time would come. And then Greywolf would become an orca.

He breathed out.

PEAK

'Are you completely insane?' Peak's voice reverberated in the tunnel. Li sped ahead of him. He tried to ignore the throbbing in his ankle and keep pace with her. She'd abandoned the machine-gun and was carrying her pistol.

'You're starting to get on my nerves, Sal.' Li headed for the nearest companionway. They climbed in single file to the level above, where a passageway took them to the restricted area. From the bowels of the vessel came the sounds of destruction. There was another explosion. The floor shook and tilted, forcing them to pause. The bulkheads must be giving way to the pressure. Now the Independence was at a noticeable angle. The passageway became an uphill slope. Men and women streamed out of the control room, running towards them. They looked at Li expectantly, awaiting her orders. Their commander strode past.

'On your nerves?' Peak blocked her path. His horror was turning into blind rage. 'You can't just go around shooting people or having them killed. For Christ's sake, Li, it's uncalled for. We never planned it this way. No one agreed to this.'

Li's face was calm, but her blue eyes were flicking back and forth. Peak had never noticed that before. Suddenly he knew that this highly intelligent, well-educated, distinguished general was mad.

'Vanderbilt knows,' she said.

'You cleared it with the CIA?'

'With Vanderbilt of the CIA.'

'So you and that scumbag agreed to this lunacy?' Peak's lips curled in disgust. 'Well, it makes me sick. Right now we should be helping to evacuate this vessel.'

'We've got presidential approval,' Li added.

'Yeah, right.'

'Or as good as.'

'Not for this. I don't believe you.'

'Well, I know he'd approve it.' She pushed past him. 'Now, get out of my way. We're running out of time.'

Peak rushed after her. 'But these people have done nothing wrong. They risked their lives by joining this mission. They're our allies. Arrest them if you have to, but don't kill them.'

'They're either with me or against me. Can't you see that, Sal?'

'Johanson wasn't against you.'

'He was against me from the start.' She spun round, glaring up at him. 'Are you blind or just stupid? Don't you understand what will happen if America doesn't win this war? Another state's victory is America's defeat.'

'But this isn't about America! It's about the world.'

'America is the world.'

Peak stared at her. 'You're crazy,' he whispered.

'No, just realistic. And it's about time you did as you were told. You're under my command.' Li walked off 'Come on. We've got a job to do. I need to be in that submersible before this ship is blown to pieces. Help me find Rubin's radioactive torpedoes. Then you can do as you like.'

VEHICLE RAMP

Weaver couldn't make up her mind which way to run until she heard voices coming from the ramp. Li and Peak had vanished. They were probably on their way to Rubin's lab to fetch the contaminated pheromone. She ran to the next bend in the tunnel and saw Anawak and Johanson at the entrance to the hangar deck, each propping up the other, about to head down.

'Leon!' she cried. 'Sigur!'

She ran forward and threw her arms round them. It meant a pretty big-stretch but she needed to hold them both. One especially. Johanson grunted in pain. She jerked away. 'Oh, I'm sorry, I-'

'It's OK.' He wiped the blood off his beard. 'The spirit is willing but… Anyway, what's going on?'

'Whatever happened to you?

The deck rumbled beneath their feet. The Independence's hull gave a drawn-out squeal. The hangar bay tilted another degree towards the bow.

Hurriedly they swapped accounts, Anawak still in shock from Greywolf's death. 'Does either of you know what's happening to the ship?' he asked.

'No, but I don't think we've time to worry about it.' Weaver glanced round. 'I'd say we've got two urgent jobs to deal with: stopping Li getting into that sub, and somehow getting out of here alive.'

'You think she'll stick to her plan?'

'Of course she will,' Johanson growled.

Noises were coming from the flight deck above them. They heard the thump of rotors. 'Do you hear that? The rats are deserting the ship.'

'But what's come over her?' Anawak shook his head uncomprehendingly. 'Why would Li kill Sue?'

'She did her best to kill me too. She'd shoot anyone who stands in her way. She never intended to negotiate peacefully.'

'But what's she trying to achieve?'

'It doesn't matter now,' said Johanson. 'Her schedule will have moved forward dramatically. Someone's got to stop her. We can't let her take that stuff down there.'

'No,' said Weaver. 'We need to take this stuff down there instead.'

For the first time Johanson noticed the case in Weaver's hand. His eyes widened. 'Is that the new batch of pheromone?'

'Sue's legacy.'

'But how's that going to help us?'

'I've had an idea.' She hesitated. 'God knows if it'll work, though. I thought of it yesterday, but somehow it didn't seem viable. I guess things have changed.' She summarised.

'Sounds promising,' said Anawak. 'But we must act fast. We may have only minutes. We need to be out of here before the ship sinks.'

'But I don't know how we can do it in practice.'

'Well, I do.' Anawak pointed down the ramp. 'We need a dozen hypodermic syringes. I'll fetch them. You two go down and take care of the submersible.' He thought for a moment. 'And we'll need… Do you think you'll find someone in the lab?'

'Sure. No problem. But where are you going to get syringes?'

'The infirmary.'

Above them the noise intensified. Through the opening to the port-side elevator they saw a helicopter rise up and wheel round, flying close to the waves. The steel girders of the hangar deck groaned. The ship was warping.

'Be quick,' said Weaver.

Anawak met her gaze. Their eyes lingered. 'You can depend on it,' he said.

Evacuation

Unlike most people on the Independence, Crowe knew almost exactly what had happened. Footage of the glowing sphere had been relayed via the cameras on the hull to the monitors above. From what she could tell, the ball had been made of jelly, and there'd been gas inside, which had expanded when it burst. Probably methane, thought Crowe. Amid the swirling bubbles she'd caught sight of something familiar: the outline of a submersible racing towards the ship.

A Deepflight armed with torpedoes.

In the seconds that followed the explosion all hell had broken loose. Shankar's head had cracked down on the desk and was bleeding profusely. Crowe had helped him to his feet, before soldiers and technicians stormed into the CIC and hustled them outside. The repeated buzz of the alarm kept them moving. People were crowding into the companionways, but the crew seemed on top of the situation. An officer was there to help them out. He guided them aft to a companion-way that led upwards.

'Straight through the island and on to the flight deck,' he said. 'Don't stop for anything. You'll get further instructions at the top.'

Crowe pushed the dazed Shankar up the ladder. She was small and dainty, and Shankar was big and heavy. She had to summon all her strength. 'Come on, Murray,' she gasped.

Shankar's hands trembled as he reached for the rungs. He pulled himself up with difficulty. 'I never thought making contact would end like this,' he gasped.

'You must have seen the wrong movies.'

Ruefully she thought of the cigarette she'd lit only seconds before the explosion. It was still smouldering in the CIC What a waste. She'd have given anything for a cigarette now. Just one before she died. Instinct told her that no one on the ship was likely to survive.

But no, she thought suddenly. Of course. They weren't reliant on lifeboats. They had helicopters.

Relief flooded through her. Shankar had reached the top of the companionway. Hands stretched down to haul him out. As Crowe followed, it struck her that what they were experiencing might be the kind of contact humans knew best – aggressive, ruthless and murderous.

Soldiers pulled her into the island.

Well, Ms Alien, she thought, what do you think now about finding intelligent life in space?

'You wouldn't happen to have a cigarette, would you?' she asked a soldier.

He stared at her. 'You've got to be kidding, lady. Just get the hell out of here.'

Buchanan

Buchanan was on the bridge with the second officer and the helmsman, keeping himself informed of developments and giving orders. He stayed calm. As far as he could tell, the blast had destroyed some of the ammunition magazines and the engine room. They could have lived with the loss of the magazines, but the damage to the engine room had sparked a chain reaction in the hydraulic system and the fuel-pumping stations, triggering more explosions. One by one the vessel's systems failed. The ship drew her electricity from a series of motor-driven power plants. In addition to the two gas turbines, the Independence had six diesel generators, which now broke down in quick succession. The main priority now was to evacuate. The explosion had occurred amidships, but some of the forward cargo compartments had already flooded, causing the Independence to sink bow-first.

There was too much water in the hull. As the pressure built, it would force its way towards the far end of the bow, then blast through the bulkheads and on to the level above. If the bulkheads at the stern gave way too, the ship would fill with water.

Buchanan had no illusions: he knew that the vessel would sink. It was merely a question of when. Whether or not they survived depended on him and his ability to assess what was happening. Right now he estimated that the water was about to break into the vehicle stowage compartments located below the lab. It would probably flood some of the troop berthing too. The one small comfort was that there were no marines aboard. During a normal operation he would have had to evacuate three thousand men. Now he had only a hundred and eighty, and they were mainly on the upper levels.

Some of the monitors that usually displayed the information from the integrated main screen in the CIC had stopped working. Directly above Buchanan's head was the sealed case containing the red phone: his hotline to the Pentagon. His gaze wandered over the chart tables, communication devices and navigational aids, all arranged in neat, logical order. None of that could help him now.

USELESS CLUTTER.

On the roof, the landing crew were keeping everyone moving. People were being led out of the island and over to where the helicopters were waiting, rotors whirring. Everything happened quickly. Buchanan spoke briefly to Flight Control and looked out through the green-tinted windows of the bridge. A helicopter had just taken off and was disappearing from the vessel. They had no time to lose. If the bow dipped any further, the flight deck would turn into a chute. The helicopters were securely tethered, but soon the situation would become critical.

03 LEVEL

Anawak didn't encounter many people. He was afraid he might run into Li or Peak, but they must have headed in the other direction. Out of breath, with a constant pain in his chest, he raced along the passageway towards the infirmary.

It was deserted. There was no sign of Angeli or his staff. He had to pass through a series of rooms lined with beds before he came to the one that held equipment. Cupboard doors gaped open, and the floor was littered with shards of glass that crunched as he walked. One after another he yanked open all the drawers and rummaged through the debris on the shelves, but failed to find a syringe.

Where the hell did they keep them?

He tried to think where they were usually kept at the doctor's surgery. In little drawers. He could picture it. Shiny white cabinets with lots of little drawers.

There was a rumble beneath him. Groaning noises rose through the ship. The steel was buckling.

Anawak hurried into the compartment across the way. Much of the equipment had been smashed, but the room contained several white cabinets, which seemed to have been bolted into place. He opened them, searched inside and finally found what he was looking for. He grabbed a dozen syringes in sterile packaging and shoved them into his jacket.

Their plan was crazy.

Either Karen was right, and it was a stroke of genius, or they had no idea of the reality of the situation. On the one hand it seemed plausible, but on the other impracticable and naive, especially compared to the sophisticated messages that Crowe had been sending into the depths…

Where was Crowe?

There was a deafening clanging noise as though a bell had exploded. The deck tilted further. He could hear a muffled sloshing.

Anawak wondered whether he had time to get out. Then he stopped wondering and started running.

Lab

Weaver didn't know what lay ahead. Just the thought of opening the door to the laboratory made her stomach churn. But if they were to go through with the plan, it was their only hope.

The floor shook. From under the deck they heard gurgling. Johanson leaned against her, breathing heavily. 'Well, go on, then,' he said.

The red light was flashing above the keypad. The lab was sealed. Weaver tapped in the code and the door slid open. Water rushed towards them, swirling round their feet, but instead of flowing down the ramp, it collected round their ankles. The level rose. In a flash Weaver saw why: the ship was tilting at such an angle that it couldn't run down to the well deck. This section of the ramp wasn't a ramp any more: it was level.

She took a step back. 'Careful,' she said. 'The jelly might have got out.'

Johanson looked inside. Two lifeless bodies floated next to the wreckage of the chamber. He waded into the streaming water, and advanced through the door. Weaver followed. Her eyes shot over to the two large containers that made up the biohazard lab. They appeared intact, and she felt a wave of relief. This wasn't the time to be poisoned by Pfiesteria.

Aft, the deck sloped out of the water, most of which had formed a deep pool at the opposite end of the lab. 'They're all dead,' she whispered.

Johanson squinted over the water. Look!'

There was a third body – Rubin's.

Weaver fought back revulsion and fear. 'We're going to have to take one,' she said. 'It doesn't matter which.'

'That means wading in deeper.'

'It can't be helped.' She set off.

'Karen, watch out!'

She tried to turn, but something collided with her from behind and her feet skidded out from under her. Yelping, she landed in the water, and rose, spluttering, to the surface. She struggled on to her back.

A soldier was standing in front of her, training an enormous black weapon on them both.

'Oh, no,' he said slowly. 'Ooooh, no.'

In his eyes she could see panic and incipient madness. She got up slowly and raised her hands, showing her palms.

'Oh, no,' he repeated.

He was very young, no more than nineteen, and the weapon trembled in his hands. He took a step back and glanced from Weaver to Johanson, then back again.

'It's OK,' said Johanson. 'We're trying to help you.'

'You locked us in,' said the soldier. His voice sounded whiny, as though he were about to scream.

'That wasn't us,' said Weaver.

'You locked us in with that – that – you left us alone with it.'

This was all they needed – the Independence was sinking, they were racing against time to stop Li, they still had to get hold of a corpse and now they had to deal with a hysterical boy.

'What's your name?' Johanson asked abruptly.

'What?' The soldier's gaze wobbled. Then he raised his gun and pointed it at Johanson.

'No!' screamed Weaver.

Johanson looked into the barrel of the gun and spoke softly: 'Could you tell us your name, please?'

The soldier hesitated.

'We need to know your name,' said Johanson, in the tone of a friendly parish priest.

'MacMillan. I'm… My name is MacMillan.'

Weaver realised what Johanson was up to. The best way to bring someone back to normality was to remind them of who they were.

'Thank you, MacMillan. Good. Now, listen, we need your help. This vessel is sinking. It's imperative that we go through with our last experiment. It could save us all.'

'All of us?'

'Do you have family, MacMillan?'

'Why do you need to know?'

'Tell me where they live, MacMillan.'

'Boston.' The boy's face crumpled. He started to cry. 'But Boston's-'

'I know,' Johanson said urgently. 'Listen, there's something we can do to stop all this. To stop everything – even in Boston. But we need your help. And we need it now. Your family's lives could be hanging in the balance with every second we waste.'

'Please help us,' said Weaver. 'Please.'

The soldier looked from one to the other. He snuffled and lowered his gun. 'Will you get us out of here?' he asked.

'Yes.' Weaver nodded. 'I promise.' What the hell are you talking about? she thought. You can't promise anything. Not a thing.

The secret laboratory seemed unscathed. The floor was covered with broken glass, but otherwise everything seemed to be in its rightful place. A few monitors flickered in the background.

'Now, where would he have put those cylinders?' Li wondered aloud.

She slid her gun back into its holster. The room was deserted. She'd expected to see a blue glow emanating from the miniature tank, but then she remembered that Rubin had tested the toxin – very success fully, as he'd assured her. She peered through one of the portholes. Nothing. No organism. No glow.

Peak wandered among the benches and cabinets. 'Over here,' he called.

Li hurried over. A stand had toppled over, leaving a collection of slim, torpedo-shaped cylinders in a heap, each just under a metre long. They picked them up one by one. Two were noticeably heavier than the others, and Li spotted the markings on their sides. Rubin had drawn on them in permanent ink. Look, Sal,' she said, mesmerised. 'I'm holding the new world order in my hands.'

'I see.' A test-tube rolled off the side of one of the benches and shattered with a tinkle. 'In that case let's get the new world order out of here.'

Li let out a peal of laughter. She passed a cylinder to Peak and walked out of the lab with the other. 'In five minutes' time I'm going to send the yrr into the underworld forever, you can depend on it.'

'Who're you going to take down with you? Is Mick still alive, do you think?'

'I don't give a shit about Mick.'

'I could come.'

'Well, that's incredibly generous of you, Sal, but exactly how were you planning to help? The last thing I need is you bawling your eyes out because you can't stand the thought of me killing a lump of blue slime.'

'That's different and you know it. There's a hell of a difference between-'

They were almost at the companionway. Someone was approaching from the opposite direction, running with his head down.

'Leon!'

Anawak stopped abruptly. They were very close. Only the entrance to the companionway lay between them.

'Jude, Sal…' Anawak stared at them. 'What a surprise.'

What a surprise. It was pathetic. The man couldn't act even though his life depended on it. From the moment Li had looked into his eyes she'd known that Anawak knew everything.

'Where've you been?' she asked.

'I'm… Well, I can't find the others so…'

She was running out of time. Maybe he was looking for his friends, or maybe he was up to something. It didn't matter. Anawak was in the way.

Li drew her gun.

Flight Deck

Crowe had been behind Shankar as they walked out on to the roof, but then she'd been stopped. 'Wait there,' said a man in uniform.

'But I've got to-'

'You'll be in the next group.'

Two Super Stallions had left the deck already and two more were waiting beside the island, one parked in front of the other. Shankar turned to her as he ran with the group of soldiers and civilians towards a chopper. The enormous flight deck was sloping more dramatically than ever, but it was so big that it looked as though the foaming, raging sea was tilting, rather than the ship.

'I'll see you later,' shouted Shankar. 'You'll be on the next flight.'

Crowe watched as he hurried up the ramp that rose under the tail and into the belly of the Super Stallion. A glacial wind lashed her face. The evacuation was going pretty much to plan. So she'd just have to be patient. But where were the others? Leon, Sigur, Karen…

Maybe they'd left already.

It was a reassuring thought. The hatch closed behind Shankar. The rotors spun faster.

Hull

Barely thirty metres below the flight deck the flood of seawater was pushing up against the bulkheads of the forward cargo compartments and the lower troop berthing. A single torpedo floated in the water. It had been released when the submersible exploded but its charge hadn't detonated. That was unusual, but by no means unheard of. After being propelled by the water into one of the munitions magazines, it had sunk into a metal storage cage that had been partially wrenched out of position and now was shifting up and down in the darkness. It rolled gently from side to side, advancing centimetre by centimetre, in line with the vessel's inclination.

The bulkheads stood firm, but the cage screeched and groaned with the pressure. The struts to which it was still attached began to buckle under the strain. Fine fracture lines opened in the steel of the magazine's wall. One of the sturdy attachment bolts was being dragged out of its fixing, its thread stripping under the strain…

With an almighty bang it was free.

The tension that had been building was instantaneously released. The cage jerked up, as the bolts shot out and the partition collapsed. In the turmoil, the torpedo was catapulted towards a spot that bordered on the cargo holds at the bow, the vast living quarters for the marines and the empty vehicle deck below the lab.

It was one of the most sensitive intersection points on the ship.

This time the explosive didn't fail.

03 LEVEL

'No,' said Peak. He dropped the cylinder and turned his gun on Li. 'You can't do that.'

Li's pistol was still trained on Anawak. 'Sal, I've had enough of your insubordination,' she hissed.

'Put the gun down.'

'For Christ's sake, Sal! I'll have you court-martialled, I'll-'

'On the count of three I'm going to shoot. I'm serious, Jude. I'm not going to stand by and let you keep killing people. Now, put the gun down. One… Two…'

Li exhaled noisily and lowered it. 'Are you happy now?'

'Drop it.'

'Why don't we just talk this over and-'

'Drop it!'

An expression of pure hatred filled Li's eyes. The weapon clattered to the deck.

Anawak glanced at Peak. 'Thanks,' he said, and hounded to the companionway. He disappeared down it and his footsteps faded. Li swore.

'General Commander Judith Li,' Peak said solemnly, I'm relieving you of your command on the grounds of insanity. From now on you will follow my orders. You may-'

The ship gave a terrible lurch and plunged forward. Peak thudded down, rolled over and scrambled up. Where was his gun? Where was Li?

'Sal!' Li was kneeling in front of him. She raised the gun.

Peak froze. 'Jude.' He shook his head. 'Listen, Jude…'

'Moron,' said Li, and pulled the trigger.

Flight Deck

Crowe swayed. The deck tipped even further. Rotors thudding, the Super Stallion carrying Shankar and the others skidded into the helicopter parked in front of it. Its engine roared as it lifted up and tried to pull away.

Crowe caught her breath. No, she thought. This can't be happening. Not now. Not when they were so close to being saved.

There were screams as people crashed to the ground or started running. She was pulled along by the crowd, then lost her balance. Sprawled on the deck, she saw the Super Stallion lift away from the stationary chopper. One of the window-mounted machine-guns struck its tail. It started to heel.

The Stallion was out of control.

She leaped to her feet. Gripped with panic she ran.

Bridge

Buchanan couldn't believe what he was seeing. He'd been hurled without warning against his captain's chair, with its comfortable arm-and footrests. Everyone envied him that chair: it was a cross between Captain Kirk's command chair and a bar stool. Equipment flew across the room. Buchanan dragged himself up and dived towards the side window, in time to see one of the Super Stallions pitch slowly to one side. It was stuck.

'Everyone out of here!' he yelled.

People were fleeing the bridge now, but he watched as the trapped helicopter kept tipping.

Suddenly it broke free and rose into the air.

Buchanan gulped. For a moment it seemed that the pilot was back in control. But the chopper was at an impossible tilt, the tail sticking vertically into the air. The engine screamed louder, then the Super Stallion hurtled towards him, rotors first.

With a total loaded weight of over thirty-three tonnes, and carrying nine thousand litres of fuel, the aircraft crashed into the bridge and transformed the front of the island into a blazing inferno. A ball of flame shot through the superstructure, charring the furniture, causing monitors to blow out and bulkheads to tear open. It bore down on the fleeing figures, incinerating them as it swept down the passageways into the heart of the island.

Flight Deck

Crowe was running for dear life. Burning debris rained from above. She raced towards the stern. The Independence was at such an angle now that she had to run uphill, which induced a fit of wheezing. Over the last few years her lungs had taken in more cigarette smoke than fresh air. And she'd always thought she'd die of lung cancer.

She stumbled and skidded over the asphalt. As she picked herself up she saw that the entire front section of the island had disappeared in flames. The second helicopter was burning too. People were running across the deck, human torches crashing to the ground. It was a horrific sight, but more horrifying was the certainty that she no longer stood a chance of escaping from the sinking ship.

Balls of fire rose over the vessel as violent explosions shook it. Then there was a deafening bang, followed by a shower of sparks only metres from her feet.

Shankar had died in the inferno.

That wasn't what she wanted for herself.

She darted towards the stern, without the faintest idea of what she would do when she got there.

03 LEVEL

Li swore. She still had a torpedo under her arm, but the second had rolled out of sight. It had either fallen down the companionway or was sliding down the corridor towards the bow. And all because of that asshole Peak.

She stepped over the body, still trying to decide whether to make do with just one torpedo. But what if it didn't eject the toxin?

Straining her eyes, she peered down the passageway.

Suddenly she heard an incredible roar above her. This time the vessel shook even more violently. She was flung backwards, and slid down the passageway on her back. She had to get out. This was no longer just about seeing through the mission – to survive she needed the Deepflight.

The torpedo slipped out of her grip.

'Shit!'

She made a grab for it, but it clattered away. If it had been packed with explosive, it would have detonated by now. Instead it was full of liquid – enough to wipe out an entire intelligent race.

She braced her arms and legs, and a few seconds later she stopped sliding, aching as though she'd been bludgeoned with an iron rod. She used the wall to push herself up and looked around.

The second torpedo had vanished too.

She could have screamed.

The noises from the flood waters sounded alarmingly close and she could hear cracking and banging from above. There wasn't much time.

She stood still. There was no mistaking it. It was getting warmer.

She had to find those torpedoes.

Lab

The young soldier had been right behind them, gun at the ready, when the blast rocked the lab. They all splashed into the water. As Weaver surfaced, there was another almighty bang overhead. Then the lights went out and she was staring into darkness.

'Sigur?' she called.

No answer.

'MacMillan?'

'Over here.'

Her feet touched the deck. She was up to her chest in water. Why now? She'd almost got hold of one of the bodies… Something prodded her shoulder and her hand whipped up. A boot – and inside it a leg.

'Karen?'

Johanson was somewhere close by. Little by little her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Without warning the emergency lighting flashed on, illuminating the laboratory with a red glow. She saw the outline of Johanson's head protruding from the water. 'This way!' she called. 'I need a hand.'

A dull roar came from above as well as below. The lab was getting warmer. Johanson appeared beside her.

'Who is it?'

'No idea. Just help me shift it.'

'We've got to get out,' MacMillan said breathlessly. 'Hurry.'

'We're just coming, we're-'

'Hurry!'

Weaver's eyes were drawn to the far end of the lab.

A faint blue glow.

Then a flash.

She tightened her grip on the body and fought through the water to the door. Johanson had the dead man's arm. Or was it a woman? Weaver prayed that it wasn't poor Sue. She trod on something that slid away to one side. Her head disappeared under water.

Eyes wide she stared into the darkness. Something was snaking towards her. It bore down on her rapidly like a long, glittering eel. No, not an eel. More like an enormous headless worm. And it wasn't alone.

Her head shot up. 'Let's get out of here.'

Johanson yanked at the corpse. Below the surface a tangle of swarming tentacles had appeared. MacMillan raised his gun. Weaver felt something slide past her ankle.

In a flash, feelers were winding themselves round her body, crawling upwards. She tore at them, trying to prise them off. Then Johanson was beside her, digging his fingers under the tentacles, but he might as well have been trying to free her from an anaconda.

The creature was pulling her backwards.

Creature? It wasn't one creature she was fighting but billions. Billions and billions of amoebas.

'It's no good!' Johanson gasped.

The jelly slid over her chest, and she was pushed back under the water. The glow was brighter now. At the far end of the tentacles a large mass was approaching. The main body of the organism.

She fought to the surface. 'MacMillan,' she gurgled.

The soldier raised his gun.

'It's no use shooting,' screamed Johanson. 'It won't help.'

All of a sudden MacMillan seemed calm. He took aim, keeping his sights on the mass of jelly as it moved through the water. 'Oh, this'll help, all right,' he said.

There was a dry staccato sound as he fired.

'This always helps.'

The volley pierced the organism. Water sprayed in all directions. MacMillan fired a second round, and the creature was blasted to shreds. Clumps of jelly whirled through the air. Suddenly Weaver was free. Johanson grasped the body, and together they pulled it frantically through the water, picking up speed as the water level sank. The ship was tilting more drastically than ever now, prompting most of the water to collect at the bow end of the lab. The area around the door was almost dry. They hurried up the slope, careful not to slip, until suddenly the water was only ankle deep.

They heaved the body out on to the ramp. Weaver was almost sure she'd heard a muffled cry.

'MacMillan?'

She stuck her head back around the door. 'MacMillan? Where are you?'

The glowing organism was aggregating again. There was no sign of tentacles. The creature was now a flat sheet.

'Close the door,' Johanson shouted. 'It could still get out. There's water everywhere.'

'MacMillan?'

Weaver gripped the doorframe and stared into the room, but the soldier was gone. He hadn't made it.

A thin, glowing tendril approached. She leaped back and hit the switch for the door. The tendril rushed forward, but the door snapped shut.

Experiments

Anawak had been climbing down a companion way when the blast rocked the boat. Now his breath was coming in gasps and his knee hurt. He swore. He'd had trouble with that knee ever since the crash in the seaplane, and then Vanderbilt had kicked it.

The only way to the well deck now was via the vehicle ramp leading down from the hangar bay. He turned and went up until he was on the right level to get to the ramp. It got steadily warmer as he ascended. What was happening up there? He stumbled on to the hangar deck and saw thick black smoke pouring through the gateways from the elevators.

Suddenly he heard someone calling for help.

He took a few steps into the hangar. 'Is anyone there?' he shouted.

It was hard to see anything: the pale yellow lights weren't strong enough to penetrate the dark smoke. But he could hear the voice clearly now.

It was Crowe.

'Sam?' Anawak ran part-way through the sooty cloud. He stopped to listen. 'Sam? Where are you?'

No answer.

He waited for a moment, then turned and ran towards the ramp. He didn't notice until too late that it was now as steep as a chute. His legs gave way and he thudded downwards, praying that at least some of the syringes would survive. At the bottom, he splashed into a pool of water that cushioned his fall. He shook himself, crawled out on all fours and saw Weaver and Johanson walking away from the lab, dragging a body in the direction of the well deck.

Ahead, the floor was covered with a thin film of water.

Of course! The basin had been full of water, which was now streaming into the passageway. If the ship tilted any further this whole compartment would flood.

They had to hurry.

'I've got the syringes,' he shouted after them.

Johanson glanced round. 'About time.'

'Who've you got?' Anawak ran to catch up with them, and looked down at the body.

Rubin.

Flight Deck

Crouched at the far end of the roof Crowe watched the island go up in smoke.

A man with Pakistani features was lying next to her, shaking all over and dressed in a cook's uniform. Either they were the only ones to have run in this direction, or no one else had made it. The man coughed and sat up.

'This is what happens when intelligent species disagree,' Crowe told him.

He stared at her as though she had three heads.

Crowe sighed. She'd run to a spot directly above the starboard-side elevator. Below them was the opening to the hangar deck. She'd called over the side a few times, but no one had answered.

The boat was burning, and they were going to sink.

Maybe there were lifeboats somewhere on board, but they wouldn't be much use. Everything on a helicopter carrier was set up for people to be evacuated by air. And, anyway, even if they did find the lifeboats, they'd still need someone to lower them, and everyone who knew how to do so had vanished in the blaze.

Tarry black smoke drifted towards them. 'Have you got any cigarettes?' she asked.

She expected him to pronounce her completely insane, but instead he dug out a packet of Marlboros. 'They're Lights,' he explained.

'Oh, the healthy option…' Crowe smiled and inhaled as the cook put his lighter to the tip. 'Very sensible.'

Pheromones

'We'll squirt it into his tongue, his nose, his eyes and his ears,' said Weaver.

'Why?' asked Anawak.

'To give it a better chance of escaping.'

'In that case we should get some into his fingertips and toes. The more the better.'

The well deck was deserted. The technicians had fled. They undressed Rubin to his underpants, working as swiftly as they could, while Johanson filled Anawak's syringes with the pheromone. Rubin was laid out above the embankment. The water was only a few centimetres deep, but it was rising all the time. They'd removed the layers of jelly clinging to his head and flung them out of reach of the water. There was more inside his ears, which Anawak fished out.

'You could inject some into his arse,' said Johanson. 'We've got plenty.'

'Do you think it will work?' Weaver asked doubtfully.

'The few yrr that are still trapped inside him won't be able to make nearly as much of the pheromone as we're giving him. So if they fall for the ruse, they'll think it's all coming from him.' Johanson crouched and held out a bunch of syringes, 'who's going first-'

Weaver felt a wave of revulsion.

'Well, don't all shout at once,' said Johanson. 'Leon?'

In the end they did it together. Hastily they pumped Rubin with nearly two litres of the pheromone solution. Half of that probably ran straight back out.

'The water's rising,' said Anawak.

Weaver listened. Screeching and whining noises were still coming from all over the boat. 'It's getting warmer.'

'Because the roofs on fire.'

'Come on.' Weaver put her hands under Rubin's armpits and pulled him up. 'Let's get this over with before Li shows up.'

'I thought Peak had put her out of action,' said Johanson.

'I wouldn't count on it,' said Anawak, as they dragged Rubin's body to the basin. 'You know Li. She's not that easy to get rid of.

03 LEVEL

Li was beside herself with rage. She raced down the passageway, stopping at every open door, then sprinting onwards. That damn torpedo had to be somewhere. It was probably right in front of her. 'Look harder,' she scolded herself 'They're torpedoes, for Christ's sake. You can't be that stupid, you pathetic half-witted…'

The deck shuddered. She lost her balance and clung to the side. The water had evidently torn down more bulkheads. The passageway tilted further. The Independence was so bow-heavy that it wouldn't be long before waves were washing the flight deck.

She was running out of time.

All of a sudden she spotted the torpedo. It had rolled out from an open passageway. Li whooped in triumph. She darted forwards, grabbed it and ran back towards the companionway. Peak's body had slumped through the entrance. She pulled away the heavy corpse, then climbed down the ladder and jumped the final two metres.

The second torpedo was lying at the bottom.

From now on it would be child's play. She hurried on. Maybe it wouldn't be so easy after all – fallen objects blocked several of the companionways. It would take too long to clear them. She had to go back. Up and on to the hangar deck, then down the ramp.

Hugging the torpedoes, she made her way up as fast as she could.

Anawak

Rubin weighed a tonne. Once they'd pulled on their wetsuits – to Johanson's groans of pain – they combined forces to drag the body up the starboard jetty, which was sticking out into the air like a ski-jump. The water had drained away from the stern gate now, exposing the planked floor. The four moored Zodiacs had risen steadily as the contents of the basin flowed into the tunnel towards the lab. Anawak listened to the creaking steel and wondered how much longer the vessel could bear the strain.

The three submersibles were hanging obliquely from the ceiling. Deepflight 2 had taken the place of the missing Deepflight 1. The other two boats had each moved up a position.

'Which one was Li intending to take?' asked Anawak.

'Deepflight 3,' said Weaver.

They inspected the control panel and flipped various switches. Nothing happened.

Anawak's eyes scanned the console. 'Roscovitz said that the well deck had its own power supply.' He bent closer to the desk and read the labels. 'OK, this is the one. It lowers the submersibles. Let's have Deepflight 3, so Li can't cause any trouble if she shows up here.'

Weaver activated the mechanism. A submersible descended from the rail, but it was the first, not the second.

'Um, can't you get Deepflight 3 for me?'

'Well, I expect I could, if I knew how the bloody thing worked. They're going to have to come down one by one.'

'Never mind,' Johanson said. 'We don't have time to worry about it. Take Deepflight 2 instead.'

They waited until the boat was hovering alongside the jetty. Weaver bounded over and opened the pods. Rubin's body was unbelievably heavy, saturated with water and pheromone fluid. His head jerked back and forth, eyes glazed and staring emptily into space. Together they pushed and pulled until it plopped into the co-pilot's pod. They were ready.

Anawak thought of the iceberg in his dream. He'd known that the time would come when he'd be called under water. The iceberg would melt and he'd sink to the bottom of an unknown sea…

But who or what would he meet there?

Weaver

'You're not going, Leon.'

'What do you mean?'

'What I say.' One of Rubin's feet was sticking out of the pod. Weaver kicked it back in. 'I'm going.'

'Why?'

'Because that's how it should be, that's why.'

'You can't.' He took her by the shoulders. 'Karen, you might not come back alive, it's-'

'I know the risks,' she said softly, 'but none of our chances are good. You two take the other subs and wish me luck.'

'Karen! Why?'

'Do you really need to hear reasons?'

'Forgive me for interrupting,' said Johanson, 'but we're rather pushed for time. Why don't you both stay, and I'll go?'

'No.' Weaver hadn't taken her eyes off Anawak. 'Leon knows I'm right. I can steer a Deepflight in my sleep. I've got the edge over you both there. I've been down thousands of metres in Alvin exploring the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. I know more about submersibles than the two of you put together and -'

'Nonsense,' cried Anawak. 'I can fly it as well as you can.'

'It's my world down there. It's the deep blue sea, Leon. That's been my world since I was ten.'

He opened his mouth but Weaver pressed her finger to his lips and shook her head. I'm going.' She looked around. 'Once I'm in, you can open the sluice and lower me. God knows what will happen once the flaps are open. We may find ourselves under attack, or maybe nothing will happen. Let's hope for the best. Once I've released the boat from the chain, wait a minute or so if you can, then take the second sub. Don't try to follow me. Stay close to the surface and get away from the ship. I may have to dive pretty deep. And afterwards…' She paused. 'Well, hopefully someone will fish us out. At least these things have satellite transmitters.'

'At a rate of twelve knots it would take two days to get to Greenland or Svalbard,' said Johanson. 'There's not enough fuel.'

Her heart felt heavier all the time. She gave Johanson a hug – and remembered their escape from the tsunami in the Shetlands. They'd see each other again.

'Brave girl,' he said.

Then she took Anawak's face in both hands and pressed her lips firmly to his. They'd never really talked, never done any of the things that would have been so right. . . Then she leaped into the pilot's pod. The submersible rocked gently. Lying on her belly, Weaver got into position and activated the locks. Slowly the pods closed. She scanned the instruments and gave the thumbs-up.

The World of the Living

Johanson stepped up to the control desk, opened the sluice and lowered the boat. They watched as the Deepflight dropped down and the steel flaps swung open beneath it. Dark water. This time nothing tried to force its way inside the vessel. Weaver used the controls to uncouple the submersible from its chain. It splashed down and sank through the water. Trapped air shimmered inside the clear domes. The craft's colours paled, its contours blurred, and it became a shadow.

It vanished.

Anawak felt a twinge.

The heroes' roles were handed out long ago, and they're only for dead men. You belong in the world of the living.

Greywolf!

Perhaps you'll need someone to tell you what the bird spirit sees.

Akesuk had been talking about Greywolf! His friend had been able to interpret his dream. The iceberg had melted, but Anawak's path didn't lead into the depths: it took him up to the light.

Into the world of the living.

To Crowe.

Anawak's mind jerked back to the present. Of course. How could he have allowed himself to be sidetracked? There was work to be done on board the Independence.

'What now?' asked Johanson.

'Plan B.'

'Which is?'

'I've got to go back up.'

'Are you crazy? Whatever for?'

'I need to find Sam – Sam and Murray.'

'They've all gone,' said Johanson. 'The ship must have been evacuated by now. They were in the CIC last time I saw them. They were probably on the first helicopter out.'

'No.' Anawak shook his head. 'They can't have been. Or, at least, Sam wasn't – I'm sure I heard her shouting for help. Look, I don't want to bore you with my problems, Sigur, but I've spent too long avoiding things in life. I'm not like that any more, and I can't just look away. Do you see?'

Johanson smiled.

'I'm going to give it one last try. In the meantime, you can lower Deepflight 3 and get her ready to go. If I don't find Sam in the next few minutes, I'll come back and we'll get the hell out of here.'

'And if you do find her?'

'Then we've always got Deepflight 4.'

'OK.'

'Do you mean that?'

'Of course.' Johanson spread his hands. 'What are you waiting for?'

Anawak bit his lip. 'If I'm not back in five minutes you're to leave without me.'

'I'll wait.'

'Five minutes. No longer.'

Anawak ran down the jetty. The opening of the tunnel was flooded, but the ship hadn't tilted any further during the last few minutes.

Water swirled round his ankles. He waded in, swam a few strokes and walked a couple of metres until it got deeper. As he approached the start of the ramp leading up to the hangar, the ceiling seemed to tilt towards the water. There were still a few metres of air left overhead. He swam past the locked door to the lab, turned the corner and looked up. While parts of the ramp had become almost level, others were precipitously steep. The section leading up to the hangar deck now formed a gloomy peak. A dark cloud of smoke hung above it. He'd have to crawl up on all fours. In spite of the wetsuit he was cold. Even if they escaped in the submersible, there was no guarantee that they'd come out of this alive.

They had to: he had to see Karen again.

He set about trying to clamber up.

It was easier than he'd expected: the steel ramp was ridged to provide grip for military vehicles and troops. Little by little Anawak pulled himself up. The temperature rose as he ascended, and he felt warmer. Now he was plagued by thick, sticky smoke, which settled in his lungs. The higher he climbed, the denser it became. Now the roaring noise from the flight deck was audible again.

The fire had already been blazing when he'd heard Crowe's shouts for help. If she'd survived the start of it, she might still be alive.

Coughing, he hauled himself up the final few metres and was surprised to find that visibility on the hangar deck was better than it was on the ramp. The tunnel had trapped the smoke, while up here it could circulate, entering through one gateway and escaping through the other. The air in the bay was as hot and oppressive as a furnace. Anawak covered his nose and mouth with his forearm and ran across the deck. 'Sam?' he shouted.

No answer.

'Sam Crowe? Samantha Crowe?'

He had to be mad.

But it was better than living like a dead man. Greywolf had been right: he'd been no better than a corpse.

'Sam!'

Well Deck

Johanson was alone.

He had no doubt that several of his ribs were broken, thanks to Floyd Anderson. Every little movement hurt like hell. During their efforts to retrieve Rubin's body and load it into the Deepflight, there'd been several occasions when he could have screamed, but he'd gritted his teeth.

His strength was running out.

He thought of the Bordeaux in his cabin. What a waste! He could have used a glass of it now. So what if he had to drink it by himself? He was the only bon vivant left on board. In fact, among all the people he'd met over the last few months not one had shared his taste for the finer things in life.

He was probably a dinosaur.

A Saurus exquisitus, he thought, as he lowered Deepflight 3 until it was level with the jetty.

The idea appealed to him. Saurus exquisitus. It described him exactly. A fossil who was happy to be just that. . . exhilarated by the future and the past, which filled his dreams squeezing out the present.

Gerhard Bohrmann would have known how to appreciate a glass of Bordeaux, but otherwise there was no one. Sure, Sue Oliviera had enjoyed it, but she would have enjoyed a supermarket bottle just as much. Among all the people who'd worked together in the Chateau, there was no one whose tastes were sufficiently cultivated to appreciate a fine vintage Pomerol. Except perhaps…

Judith Li.

He tried to block out the pain in his chest as he jumped on to the Deepflight. Landing upright, he groaned, knees quaking. Then he crouched, opened the control flap and activated the mechanism to unlock the pods.

The domed tops rose slowly into the vertical position. The pods lay open at his feet. 'All aboard,' he trumpeted.

It was odd. There he was, balancing on top of a submersible, left alone in a well deck that was tilting out of the sea. You never could tell where life would take you next.

And as for Li…

He'd rather pour his wine into the Greenland Sea than give a drop of it to her. Sometimes the only way to do justice to the finer things in life was to make sure certain people couldn't have them.

Li

She ran up to the hangar deck, panting for breath. The bay was shrouded in smoke. She stared at the sooty clouds, trying to discern what lay beyond them.

Then she heard the voice: 'Sam? Samantha Crowe?'

Was that Anawak shouting?

There didn't seem much point in killing him now. Besides, the bow's remaining bulkheads might give way at any moment. The vessel was in danger of splitting, and when that happened, the Independence would go down in seconds.

She ran to the ramp and peered into a smoke-filled cavern. Her stomach turned. Li wasn't easily scared, she wasn't cowed by the need to go down there, but if she let go of the torpedoes, they'd end up in the water.

She edged down the ramp, feet turned sideways, taking one small step at a time. It was dark and oppressive and the smoke was smothering her. The soles of her boots made empty clunking noises on the metal.

All of a sudden she lost her balance and sat down with a thud, legs stretched out in front of her. Still clutching the torpedoes, she slid painfully over the uneven surface of the ramp. The ridges hammered against her spine and the water rushed towards her.

The ramp fell away and she splashed down, then surfaced, gasping for air.

She still had the torpedoes.

A muffled groan shook the tunnel walls. She pushed off and swam through the passageway, round the corner and towards the well deck. The water wasn't as cold as she'd expected. It must have come from the basin. The lights had gone out in the tunnel, but the well deck had its own power supply. She could see it getting brighter ahead. As she got closer she could make out the outlines of the jetties sticking up into the air, then the stern gate looming menacingly over the basin, and two submersibles, one of which was dangling at the height of the jetty.

Two submersibles?

Deepflight 2 had vanished.

And someone in a wetsuit was balanced on Deepflight 3. Johanson.

Flight Deck

Apart from supplying Crowe with cigarettes, the Pakistani cook wasn't proving very helpful. Huddled wretchedly at the far end of the stern, he was in no fit state to make plans. Her own attempt had been no more successful. She stared helplessly at the raging flames. Everything inside her rebelled at the idea of giving up. As someone who'd spent decades listening for signals from space, the idea of resigning herself to death seemed absurd. It just wasn't an option.

All of a sudden there was a thunderous bang. A fiery cloud spread over the island, crackling and bursting like a firework display. Powerful vibrations shook the deck, then plumes of flames shot out of the inferno, stretching towards them.

The cook screamed. He jumped up, took a step backwards, stumbled, and toppled over the side. Crowe tried to grab his outstretched hands. For a split second he steadied himself, face twisted with fear, then fell. He hit the rising stern gate, then disappeared. Crowe heard a splash, drew back from the edge in horror, and glanced around.

She was surrounded by flames. Everywhere around her the asphalt was burning. It was unbearably hot. Only the starboard quarter had escaped the shower of fire. For the first time she was seized with real despair.

The heat forced her to retreat. She ran to the starboard quarter and continued along the side.

Past the equipment for the elevator.

What now?

'Sam?'

Great, now she was hearing things too. Or had someone just called her name? Impossible.

'Sam Crowe?'

Someone was calling her name.

'I'm over here,' she veiled.

Where was the voice coming from? There was no sign of anyone on the flight deck.

Then it dawned on her.

She leaned cautiously over the edge and saw the outline of the platform, tilting towards the sea.

'Sam?'

'I'm here! Up here!'

She was screaming her heart out. All of a sudden someone ran on to the platform, looking up at the deck.

It was Anawak.

'Leon!' she called. 'Leon, I'm up here!'

'Jesus, Sam.' He stared up at her. 'I'll come and get you.'

'How?'

'I'll run up.'

'There's nowhere left to run,' she shouted. 'It's a mass of flames; the island, the flight deck, everything.'

'Where's Murray?'

'Dead.'

'We've got to get out of here, Sam.'

'Thanks for pointing it out.'

'Can you jump?'

Crowe stared down. 'I don't know.'

'Do you have a better idea that might work in the next ten seconds?'

'No.'

'We'll escape in a Deepflight.' Anawak stretched out his arms. 'Just jump. I'll catch you.'

'Forget it, Leon. You'd be better off standing to one side.'

'Come on, Sam. Stop talking, start jumping.'

Crowe cast a final look over her shoulder. The flames were licking towards her. 'OK, Leon, here goes.'

Well Deck

Where the hell had Anawak got to? The submersible rocked gently on the water. Johanson crouched on top of it. There was nothing in the darkness to indicate the presence of the yrr. Why would there be? It wasn't as though an attack would be necessary. All they had to do was bide their time and wait for the vessel to sink. In the end they'd humbled even the mighty Independence. The five minutes were up.

Strictly speaking, he could go. There'd still be a submersible left for Anawak and Crowe.

But if Anawak returned with Crowe and Shankar, they'd have to use both boats. He couldn't leave.

Under his breath he started humming Mahler's Symphony No. 1.

'Sigur!'

Johanson spun round. Pain stabbed through his upper body, preventing him breathing. Li was standing behind him, level with the boat. Two slim cylinders lay beside her on the jetty. She was pointing a gun at him.

'Come down from the boat, Sigur. Don't force me to shoot.'

Johanson grabbed the chain attaching the Deepflight to the rack.

'Move.'

'Are you threatening me, Jude?' He gave a dry laugh as he tried to think. He had to delay her. He needed to improvise – to stall her, keep her talking until Anawak arrived. 'Well, I wouldn't shoot if I were you. Not if you're planning on using this sub.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

'You'll see soon enough.'

'Explain yourself.'

'All these explanations are tedious, don't you think? Come on, General Commander Li, don't be shy – shoot me now and find out later.'

Li hesitated. 'What have you done to the boat, you goddamn jerk?'

'You'll never believe this,' Johanson struggled to his feet, 'but I'm actually going to tell you. In fact, I'll even help you fix it providing you'll explain yourself to me!

'There's no time.'

'Uh-huh. That's awkward.'

Li glared at him. She lowered the gun. 'Ask away.'

'Oh, surely you know the question already. Why?'

'Do you really have to ask?' Li snorted. 'Why don't you use that high-powered brain of yours? What do you think the world would do without America? There's only one enduring model of national and international order that works for every individual in every single society, and that's the American one. We can't allow the world to solve this problem. We can't allow the UN to solve it. The yrr have inflicted untold damage on humanity, but their stock of knowledge and understanding could be even more deadly. Who would you like to see inherit that knowledge, Sigur?'

'Those most competent to deal with it.'

'Exactly.'

'But that's what we were working towards, Jude. Don't we want the same things? We could reach an agreement with the yrr. We could-'

'Don't you get it? We don't have that option. It's against the interests of my country. That knowledge belongs to the United States of America, and we're obliged to do everything in our power to prevent others attaining it. It leaves us with no choice: we have to liberate the planet from the yrr. Even agreeing to coexist would be an admission of failure – a sign of our defeat, the defeat of humanity, of our faith in God and the world's faith in American supremacy. But the worst thing about coexisting with the yrr would be the new world order that would follow. We'd all be equal in the eyes of the yrr. Any state with the requisite technology would be able to communicate with them. They'd all try to forge alliances, try to seize the yrr's knowledge – who knows? In the end the yrr might even be conquered. And whoever conquers the yrr will rule the planet.' She took a step towards him. 'Don't you see what that would mean? There's a species down there that uses biotechnology of a kind we'd never even dreamed of. The only way of communicating with them is by biological means. The whole world will start experimenting with microbes, and there'll be nothing we can do. We can't let that happen. There's no alternative but to destroy the yrr. America has to take charge. We can't afford to cede power to anyone else – and especially not to that joke of a UN assembly, where every last scumbag gets a vote.'

'You must be out of your mind,' said Johanson. He was racked with coughing. 'What kind of a person are you, Li?'

'The kind who's devoted to God and to-'

'The only thing you're devoted to is your career. You're power-crazy.'

'I believe in God and my country,' Li yelled. 'I believe that the United States has a calling to save humanity and to-'

'Put everyone else in their place once and for all.'

'So what? Everyone always wants America to do all the dirty work, and now we're doing it. It's only right. We can't allow the world to share in the yrr's knowledge, so we have to destroy them and preserve that knowledge for ourselves. Then there'll be no doubt who controls the fate of the planet. Hostile regimes or dictators won't stand a chance. No one will be capable of contesting our supremacy.'

'What you're planning is the destruction of mankind.'

Li flashed her teeth in a grin. 'You scientists are always so quick to come up with these tired old objections. None of you ever had the courage to think we could defeat our enemy – it didn't even occur to you that annihilating the yrr would solve all our problems. You just keep whining away about how eliminating amoebas could destroy the planet's ecosystem. Well, the yrr are destroying the ecosystem already. They're wiping us out! Don't you think a little short-term environmental damage is a fair price to pay for restoring us to our position as the dominant race?'

'You're the only one who's interested in domination, you poor fool. How are you going to deal with the worms and stop the-'

'We'll poison them all. Once the yrr are out of the way, we'll be able to do what we like down there.'

'You'll be poisoning humans.'

'Well, here's a thing, Sigur. Destroying humans is an opportunity in itself. It would do the planet a favour if there was a little more air to go round.' Li's eyes narrowed. 'And now get out of my way.'

Johanson didn't move. He clung to the chain, and shook his head slowly. 'I've sabotaged the boat,' he said.

'I don't believe you.'

'Then you'll have to take your chances.'

Li nodded. 'I will.'

Her arm jerked up and she fired. Johanson tried to dodge sideways. He felt the bullet perforate his sternum and a wave of pain washed through him.

She'd shot him, the bitch.

His fingers let go of the chain. He wobbled, tried to say something, then fell belly first into the pilot's pod.

Deck Elevator

The instant he saw Crowe leaping towards him Anawak was seized with doubt. Arms flailing, Crowe had launched herself too far to the left. He ran sideways, arms outstretched, hoping that the impact wouldn't pitch them into the sea.

For all her daintiness, Crowe still hit him like a speeding bus.

Anawak toppled backwards, Crowe on top of him. They were sliding down the slope. He heard her screaming and his own voice joined in. The back of his head banged on the asphalt, as he tried to brace his heels against the surface. It was the second time in one day that he'd had a bad experience on the elevator, and he hoped it would be the last- whatever the outcome.

They stopped just short of the edge.

Crowe stared at him. 'Are you OK?' she asked hoarsely.

'Never better.'

She rolled off him, tried to stand up, then pulled a face and slumped down.

'No go,' she said.

Anawak jumped up. 'What's wrong?'

'My right foot.'

He knelt down next to her and felt her ankle.

Crowe groaned. 'I think it's broken.'

Anawak paused. Had he imagined it or was the ship tipping forward?

The platform squealed.

'Put your arm round my neck.'

He helped Crowe to her feet. She could hobble along beside him at least. They made their way awkwardly into the hangar. They could barely see what was in front of them. And the deck was even steeper than before.

How the hell are we going to get down the ramp? thought Anawak. It must be like a precipice now.

Suddenly he was filled with rage.

They were in the Greenland Sea, in the Arctic, his territory. He was an Inuk through and through. He'd been born in the Arctic, and he belonged there. But he wasn't going to die there, and neither was Crowe.

'Come on,' he said. 'Let's get moving.'

Deepflight 3

Li ran to the control desk. She'd wasted too much time. She should never have allowed herself to be dragged into such a ridiculous discussion.

She raised the Deepflight, then swung it over the jetty until it was hanging directly above her. She immediately spotted the two empty tubes. The larger torpedoes were in their usual position, but the smaller ones had been dismounted to make way for the radioactive cylinders. Excellent. With weapons like these, the Deepflight was handsomely armed.

Quickly she pushed the cylinders into the tubes and locked them into place. The system was foolproof As soon as they were fired, a detonator would ensure that the contaminated pheromone sprayed out at high pressure, ideally over the blue cloud. The sea would disperse it, and the yrr would take care of the rest. That was the best thing about the plan; Rubin's use of programmed cell death. Once the yrr had been contaminated, the collective would destroy itself in an incredible chain reaction.

He had done well.

She double-checked that the cylinders were firmly in place, manoeuvred the Deepflight back over the sluice, and lowered it until it was bobbing on the water. There was no time to put on a wetsuit. She'd just have to be careful. She raced down the ladder to the boat and clambered on board. The Deepflight rocked. Her gaze fell on the open pilot's pod; where Johanson was lying prone and inert.

That stubborn old fool. Why couldn't he have toppled to the side and fallen into the sluice? Now she had to dispose of a body too.

Suddenly she felt almost sorry. In a way she'd liked and admired the guy.

Under different circumstances she might…

The vessel rumbled.

It was too late to dispose of him. And, besides, it made no difference. The boat could be steered just as well from the co-pilot's pod. It simply meant transferring the controls. And she could always get rid of Johanson later, once the boat was under water.

There was a loud sound of breaking steel. Li crawled inside hastily and closed the pods. Her fingers sped over the controls. A low hum filled the air, as rows of lights and two small screens lit up. All the systems were ready. The Deepflight lay calmly on the dark green sea, ready to drop through the three-metre sluice into the depths. Li felt euphoric.

She'd done it.

Refuge

Johanson was sitting by the lake. The water lay still before him, covered with stars. He'd been longing to return there. He looked at the landscape of his soul and was filled with joy and awe. He felt strangely disembodied, with no sensation of warmth or cold. Something had changed. He felt as though he were the lake, the small house beside it, the silent dark forest all around him, the noises in the undergrowth, the dappled moon… He was everything, and everything was in him.

Tina Lund.

It was a pity that she couldn't be here too. He would have liked to grant her this restfulness, this peace. But she was dead, killed by nature's violent protest against the rot of civilisation that had spread along the coasts. Wiped away, like everything else, leaving nothing but the image in front of his eyes. The lake was eternal. This night would never end. And the solitude would give way to soothing nothingness, the final pleasure of the egotist.

Was that what he wanted?

Solitude had undeniable advantages. Time was precious, and being alone meant that you could spend it with yourself. If you listened, you could hear the most extraordinary things.

But when did solitude become loneliness?

Suddenly he felt fear.

Fear, like a pain spreading through him, eating at his chest and stealing his breath. A chill crept over him and he shivered. The stars in the lake expanded into red and green lights and buzzed with electricity. The landscape blurred, becoming shiny and rectangular. He was lying in a tunnel, a pipe or a tube.

In a flash he was conscious.

You're dead, he told himself.

No, he wasn't quite dead. But he knew he had only seconds. He was lying in a submersible bound for the depths, laden with radioactive pheromone to repay the yrr's crimes, if that was what they were, with an even worse transgression.

There were no stars in front of him; just the control panel of the Deepflight. The lights were on. He raised his eyes in time to see the well deck disappear.

They were in the sluice.

In a tremendous act of will-power he swivelled his head to the side. In the body pod next to him he saw the beautiful profile of Judith Li.

Li.

She had killed him.

Almost.

The boat sank. Steel plates and rivets flashed past. Soon the submersible would be out of the vessel. Then nothing and no one would be able to prevent Li emptying her murderous cargo into the sea.

He couldn't let it happen.

Sweating with effort he pushed his hands from under his body and stretched out his fingers. He nearly blacked out. The instruments were in front of him. He was lying in the pilot's pod. Li had transferred the controls, and was steering with the co-pilot's instruments – but that could be changed.

One push of a button and the controls would switch to him.

Which one?

Roscovitz's chief technician, Kate Ann Browning, had shown him how to use the boat. She'd been thorough, and he'd listened attentively. He was interested in that kind of thing. The invention of the Deepflight heralded a new era of deep-sea exploration, and Johanson had always been fascinated by the future. He knew where the button was. And he knew how to use the other instruments and how to achieve what he intended. All he had to do was retrieve it from his memory.

Think.

Like dying spiders his fingers crawled over the control panel, smearing it with blood. His blood.

Think.

There it was. And next to it…

He couldn't do much now. The life was ebbing from his body, but he still had a last reserve of strength. And that would suffice.

Go to hell, Judith Li.

Li

Judith Li stared out of the view dome. A few metres in front of her she could see the steel wall of the sluice. The boat was sinking leisurely towards the depths. One more metre, and she'd start up the propeller. Then a steep course downwards and to the side. If the Independence was going to sink within the next few minutes, she wanted to be as far away from it as possible.

When would she encounter the first collective? A large one might pose a problem, she was aware of that, and she had no idea how large a collective could be. There was also the danger of running into orcas, but whatever happened she could blast her way free. She had nothing to fear.

She had to wait for the blue cloud. The right moment to release the pheromone was when the yrr-cells were on the point of aggregation.

Those goddamn amoebas were about to get the shock of their lives.

Such an odd thought. Did amoebas feel shock?

She did a double-take. A change had taken place on the control panel. One of the display lights had gone out, telling her that the controls had been…

The controls!

She was no longer in charge of the submersible. The controls had been switched to the pilot. On the monitor a display screen appeared, showing a diagram of four torpedoes; two slim ones and two larger ones.

One of the heavyweight torpedoes lit up.

Li gasped in horror. She banged on the control panel, trying to regain the use of the instruments, but the command to launch the missile couldn't be reversed. The figures on the display reflected in her deep blue eyes, running backwards in an inexorable countdown:

00.03… 00.02… 00.01…

'No!'

00.00

Her face froze.

Torpedo

The torpedo that Johanson had launched left its tube and shot forwards. It got less than three metres through the water before it hit a steel wall and exploded.

An enormous pressure wave took hold of the Deepflight. It slammed backwards into the sluice. A fountain of water shot out. While it was still spinning through the water, the second torpedo launched. With a deafening bang the well deck exploded. The Deepflight, its two passengers and its deadly cargo went up in a ferocious ball of flames that consumed all evidence that they'd ever existed. Flying debris bored its way through the decks and bulkheads, piercing the ballast tanks at the stern, allowing water to gush in. Thousands of tonnes of seawater poured into the crater that had once been the basin.

The stern plunged.

The vessel was sinking at an incredible speed.

Exit

Anawak and Crowe had just reached the top of the ramp when the shockwave from the explosion shook the vessel. Anawak was flung through the air. He saw the smoke-wreathed walls of the tunnel spinning round him, then plummeted head first inside the black maw. Crowe tumbled through the air beside him, then disappeared. The ridged steel scraped his shoulders, back, chest and butt, tearing at his skin. He sat up, flipped over and was seized by another shockwave, which catapulted him so violently that he seemed to fly back into the hangar. There was an incredible din all around him, as though the whole ship had been blown to smithereens. Plummeting downwards, he curved through the air towards the water, and vanished beneath the surface.

He kicked out with his arms and legs, fighting the current, with no idea which way was up or down. Hadn't the Independence been sinking bow first? Why was the stern full of water?

The well deck had exploded.

Johanson!

Something smacked him in the face. An arm. He seized it, gripping it tightly as he pushed off with his feet. He didn't seem to be getting anywhere. He was thrown on to his side and pushed back, as the water tugged him in all directions. His lungs felt as though he were breathing liquid fire. He needed to cough and felt nausea rising as the watery rollercoaster plunged him down again.

Suddenly he surfaced.

Dim light.

Crowe bobbed up next to him. He was still gripping her arm. Eyes closed, she retched and spat, then her head disappeared below the surface. Anawak pulled her up. The water was foaming around them. He realised that they were at the bottom of the tunnel. In place of the lab and the well deck he was in a fearsome flood tide.

The water was rising, and it was bitterly cold. Icy water straight from the ocean. His neoprene wetsuit would protect him for a while, but Crowe didn't have one.

We're going to drown, he thought. Or freeze to death. Either way, it's over. We're trapped in the bowels of this nightmarish ship, and it's filling with water. We're going down with the Independence.

We're going to die.

I'm going to die.

He was overwhelmed with fear. He didn't want to die. He didn't want it all to be over. He loved life, and there was too much to catch up on. He couldn't die now. He didn't have time. This wasn't the moment.

Agonising fear.

He was dunked under water. Something had pushed itself over his head. It hadn't knocked him very hard, but it was heavy enough to force him under. Anawak kicked out and freed himself. Gasping, he surfaced and saw what had hit him. His heart leaped.

One of the Zodiacs had been swept up by the current. The pressure wave from the explosion must have wrenched it from its mooring on the well deck. It was drifting, spinning on the foaming water, as it climbed up through the tunnel. A perfectly good inflatable with an outboard motor and a cabin. It was built for eight, so it was certainly big enough for two, and it was filled with emergency equipment.

'Sam!' he shouted.

He couldn't see her. Just dark water. No, he thought. She was here just a second ago. 'Sam!'

The water was still rising. Half of the tunnel was already submerged. He stretched up, grabbed the Zodiac, pulled himself out of the water and looked around. Crowe had disappeared. 'No,' he howled. 'No, for Christ's sake, no!'

Crawling on all fours he dragged himself to the other side of the boat and looked down into the water.

There she was! She was drifting, eyes half closed, beside the boat. Water flowed over her face. Her hands paddled weakly. Anawak leaned out, grabbed her wrists and pulled.

'Sam!' he screamed.

Crowe's eyelids fluttered. Then she coughed, releasing a fountain of water. Anawak dug his feet against the side and pulled. 'The pain in his arms was so excruciating that he was sure he would let go, but he had to save her. Abandon her, and you may as well stay behind too, he thought.

Groaning and whimpering, he pulled and tugged until all of a sudden she was with him in the boat.

Anawak's legs folded.

His strength was gone.

Don't stop now, his inner voice told him. Sitting in a Zodiac won't get you anywhere. You've got to get out of the Independence before she pulls you into the depths.

The Zodiac was dancing on top of the rising column of water as it surged towards the hangar bay. There was only a short distance to go before they were swept on to the deck. Anawak stood up and fell down again. Fine, he thought. I'll crawl. On his hands and knees he went to the cabin and hauled himself up. He cast his eye over the instruments. They were distributed around the wheel in a pattern he knew from the Blue Shark. He could handle that.

They were shooting up the last few metres of the ramp now. Clinging, he waited until the time was right.

Suddenly they were out of the tunnel. The wave washed them into the hangar bay, which had started to fill with water.

Anawak tried to start the outboard motor.

Nothing.

Come on, he thought. Don't play around, you piece of shit. Start, goddamn it!

Still nothing.

Start, goddamn it!

All of a sudden the motor roared and the Zodiac sped away. Anawak closed his hands around the wheel. Speeding through the hangar, they veered around and shot towards the starboard elevator.

The gateway was shrinking before his eyes.

Its height was decreasing even as they raced towards it. It was unbelievable how quickly the deck was filling. Water streamed in from the sides in jagged grey waves. Within seconds the eight-metre-high gateway was just four metres high.

Less than four.

Three.

The outboard motor screamed.

Less than three. Now!

Like a cannonball they shot into the open. The roof of the cabin scraped against the top of the gateway, then the Zodiac flew along the crest of a wave, hovered momentarily in the air, and splashed down hard.

The swell was high. Watery grey monsters rose towards them. Anawak was clinging so tightly to the wheel that his knuckles blanched. He raced up the next wave, fell into the trough, rose again and plummeted. Then he cut the speed. It was safer to go slower. Now he could see that the waves were big, but not steep. He turned the Zodiac by 180 degrees, allowed the boat to be lifted on the next wave, pulled back on the throttle and looked around.

It was an eerie sight.

The Independence's island towered out of the slate-grey sea in a cloud of dark smoke. It looked as though a volcano had erupted in the middle of the ocean. The flight deck was almost totally submerged, with only a few burning ruins defying their fate. He'd managed to get a fair distance away from the sinking ship, but the noise of the flames was still clearly audible.

He stared out breathlessly.

'Intelligent life-forms.' Crowe appeared next to him, deathly pale, with blue lips, and shaking all over. She clung to his jacket, keeping the weight off her injured leg. 'They cause nothing but trouble.'

Anawak was silent.

Together they watched the Independence go down.