The Swarm

'And what does it do?'

'It shuts down the special receptor. It means the pheromone is deadly. It can kill healthy cells too.'

'Why didn't you tell us?' said Oliviera. 'None of us actually likes these creatures. We could have come up with a solution together.'

'Li's got her own plans,' squawked Rubin.

'But it won't work.'

'It has worked. We trialled it.'

'It's madness, Mick. You don't know what you're unleashing. What if you wipe out the yrr? They control seventy per cent of our planet. They're the force behind a sophisticated form of biotechnology that's been around since the year dot. They live in other creatures too. I mean, for all we know, they could be present in every single marine organism. And what if they're breaking down methane or carbon dioxide? God knows what will happen to the planet if you destroy them.'

'But why should it kill all of them?' asked Weaver. 'Doesn't the toxin just kill individual cells? Or collectives?'

'No, it starts a chain reaction.' Rubin was wheezing now. 'Programmed cell death. As soon as they start to aggregate, they all destroy themselves. Once the pheromone docks on to them, it's too late. There's nothing they can do to stop it. We're recoding the yrr. It's like a deadly virus. They all infect each other.'

Oliviera grabbed Rubin by the collar. 'You've got to stop these trials,' she said urgently. 'You can't go down that route. For God's sake, Mick, don't you see that they're the ones in charge? It's their planet. They are the planet. They're a superorganism. Thanks to them, the oceans are intelligent. You've got no idea what you're doing.'

'And if we don't use the toxin?' Rubin gave a croaky laugh. 'Don't give me all that self-righteous crap about ecosystems. We're going to die, that's what. Do you think we should wait for the next tsunami? I suppose there's always the methane build-up or the ice age to look forward to.'

'We haven't been here a week yet, and we've already made contact,' said Weaver. 'Why can't we keep trying for an agreement?'

'It's too late,' rasped Rubin.

Weaver's eyes darted over the ceiling and walls. She didn't know how much time she had left before Li or Peak showed up. Maybe Vanderbilt would come running. It couldn't be long. 'What do you mean, too late?'

'It's too late!' screamed Rubin. 'We're releasing the toxin in less than two hours.'

'You're crazy,' Oliviera whispered.

'Mick,' Weaver said, 'I need you to tell me exactly how you're going to do it. Otherwise my hand might slip.'

'I'm not authorised-'

'I mean it.'

Rubin was trembling all over. 'We're using two torpedoes on Deep-flight 3. We've packed the radioactive pheromone into projectiles.'

'Are they on the sub already?'

'No, it's my job to load them and-'

'Who's taking them down?'

'I'm going with Li.'

'She's going herself?'

'Well, it was her idea. She doesn't leave anything to chance.' Rubin managed a smile. 'You won't be able to stop her, Karen. There's nothing you can do. We're the ones who're going to save this planet. Our names are the ones that people will remember-'

'Shut up, Mick.' Weaver began to push him towards the door. 'You're going to take me to your lab. That toxin isn't going anywhere. The script's just changed.'

WELL DECK

'So is anything going on between you and Karen?' asked Greywolf, stowing equipment in crates.

Anawak was taken aback. 'Er, no. Not really.'

'Not really?'

'As far as I know, we're just good friends.'

Greywolf gave him a look. 'It's about time one of us started to do things right,' he said.

'What if she's not interested?' As soon as he'd said it, Anawak realised what he'd confessed. 'I'm hopeless at that kind of thing, Jack.'

'Evidently,' said Greywolf, sarcastically. 'You didn't join the world of the living until your old man died.'

'Hey…'

'Calm down, buddy, you know I'm right. Why don't you chase after her? She obviously wants you to.'

'I came down here to see you, not because of Karen.'

'I appreciate it. Now, go.'

'For God's sake, Jack. Stop shutting yourself away. Let's take a walk before your feet turn into fins.'

'Fins would suit me fine.'

Anawak glanced at the tunnel, unsure what to do. Of course he was impatient to go after Weaver – and not only because he had feelings for her, as he'd just admitted to Greywolf and himself No, he was sure that something was bothering her. She'd seemed agitated and tense. He couldn't help thinking of what she'd told him about Johanson.

'OK, you moulder away by yourself, then,' he said to Greywolf, 'but feel free to come and find me if you change your mind.'

He left the well deck and walked past the lab. The door was closed. He thought about popping in. Maybe Johanson would be there. Then he decided against it and carried on up the ramp towards the hangar deck to look at the mysterious wall.

As he entered the bay he caught sight of Vanderbilt and Anderson disappearing on to the elevator platform.

Suddenly he felt uneasy. What were they doing there?

And where had Weaver got to?

THE ABYSS

A strong westerly howled through the air. It was blowing in from the polar ice caps, sending white-crested waves crashing into the Independence's hull and drawing what was left of the warmth from the sea.

Beneath its turbulent surface the ocean was swirling and raging, but as the depth increased, the storm died down. It was here that, only a few months previously, icy cascades of salt-laden water had poured into the depths. It was still bitterly cold, but now the salt was being diluted as fresh water streamed in from the ice caps, which were melting rapidly because of an influx of warmth. The North Atlantic pump, which drew oxygen-rich water into the depths like an underwater lung, was slowly coming to a halt. The ocean conveyor slowed, and the warmth-giving current from the tropics dried up.

But it hadn't stopped yet. Even though the chimneys could no longer be detected, small quantities of cold water were still trickling into the depths. Through the lightless calm of the ocean they fell towards the bottom of the Greenland basin, metre by metre, till they were hundreds, then thousands of metres down.

At a depth of 3.5 kilometres, just above the silty seabed, the darkness gave way to a blue glow.

It covered a vast expanse, not as a cloud of light, but as a long tube of jelly with thin walls. It was anchored to the seabed by countless tiny feet. Inside the tube millions of tentacular protuberances were rising and falling in rhythmical waves, a meadow of feelers moving in synchrony. They were conveying big lumps of a whitish substance towards a large object. The blue glow was barely strong enough to illuminate its contours, so all that was visible were two open pods. The Deepflight stuck out of the silt at an angle, but most of the submersible was hidden in the gloom.

For some time now, the organism had been loading it with frozen white lumps, and the boat was nearly full. The supply chain ceased. One section of the tube separated off, sank towards the boat and began to encase it. The transparent substance around the hull contracted, closing the pods as it compressed. Shimmering layers of blue spread out and merged until the vessel was sealed with jelly. A long thin tube moved towards it and began to pulsate. Water was being pumped through it. Water that didn't belong there. The delicate tube of jelly was drawing it from an enormous organic balloon suspended over the boat and filled with warm water originating from the mud volcano near the Norwegian continental shelf. By all rights, the balloon should have risen to the surface, propelled by the warmer – and lighter – water inside, but its weight kept it stable.