The Swarm

'Well, I'll be damned.'

'It's not that amazing. You analyse whalesong and try to figure out what they're telling each other. We listen to noises from space because we're convinced that the universe is packed with civilizations. I expect you're having more luck with your whales.'

'I'm dealing with a few oceans. You've got the universe.'

'It's on a different scale, but I'm always being told that we know less about the oceans than we do about space.'

'And you've intercepted signals that indicate the presence of intelligent life?'

She shook her head. 'No. We've found signals we can't place. The chance of making contact is remote, almost beyond all probability. So, I should really throw myself off the next bridge in frustration. But the signals are my obsession. Like you and your whales.'

'At least I know they exist.'

'Not right now you don't.' Crowe smiled.

Anawak had always been interested in SETI. The institute's research had begun in the early 1990s when NASA had funded a targeted search for extra-terrestrial life on nearby stars – timed to coincide with the five-hundredth anniversary of Columbus's arrival in the New World. As a result, the world's largest radio telescope, in the Puerto Rican town of Arecibo, had embarked on a new kind of observation programme. Thanks to generous private sponsorship, SETI had since been able to set up other projects across the globe, but Phoenix was probably the best known.

'Are you the woman Jodie Foster plays in Contact?

I'm the woman who'd like to take a ride in her spaceship and meet the aliens. You know what, Leon? I don't usually tell this stuff to anyone – I want to run away screaming when people ask me what I do. I can't bear having to explain myself.

'I know the feeling.'

'Anyway, you told me what you do, so now it's my turn. What do you want to know?'

Anawak didn't take long to consider. 'Why hasn't it worked?'

The question seemed to amuse her. 'What makes you think it hasn't? The Milky Way is made up of roughly a hundred billion stars. Trying to establish whether any of them is anything like the Earth is tricky because they don't emit enough light. We can only find out about them by using scientific tricks. Theoretically they're everywhere. But you try listening for signals from a hundred billion stars!'

'I get the picture.' Anawak grinned. 'Tracking twenty thousand whales is easy by comparison.'

'Do you see now how a job like mine can make you old and grey? It's like trying to prove the existence of a teeny-weeny fish by straining the ocean litre by litre. And, remember, fish don't keep still. There's a good chance that you'll strain forever and decide in the end that the fish was never there. Yet all the while it was swimming along with thousands of others – just always somewhere else. Phoenix can strain several litres at once, but it's still limited to, say, the Georgia Strait. Do you see what I'm getting at? There are civilizations out there, but I can't prove it. The universe is big, maybe infinite – the observatory's drinks dispenser can brew coffee stronger than our chances.'

Anawak thought for a moment. 'Didn't NASA send a message into space?'

'Oh, that.' Her eyes flashed. 'You mean, why don't we get off our butts and start making some noise of our own? Well, you're right. In 1974 NASA sent a binary message from Arecibo to M13, a globular star cluster a mere twenty-one thousand light years away. But the essential problem remains the same: whether a signal comes from us or from somebody else, all it can do is wander through interstellar space. It would take an amazing coincidence for someone to intercept it. Besides, it's cheaper for us to listen than transmit.'

'Even so, it would improve your chances.'

'Maybe we don't want that.'

'Why not?' Anawak was bewildered.

'Well, at SETI we want to, but plenty of folk would rather we didn't draw attention to ourselves. If other civilizations knew we were here, they might rob us of our planet. God help us, they might even eat us for breakfast.'

'But that's ridiculous.'

'Is it? If they're clever enough to manage interstellar travel, they're probably not interested in fisticuffs. On the other hand, it's not something we can rule out. In my view, we'd be better off thinking about how we could be drawing attention to ourselves unintentionally, otherwise we could make the wrong impression.'

Anawak was silent. Eventually he said, 'Don't you ever feel like giving up?'

'Who doesn't?'

'And what if you achieve your goal?'

'Good question.' Briefly Crowe was lost in thought. 'For years now I've been wondering what our goal really is. I think if I knew the answer I'd probably quit – an answer is always the end of a search. Maybe we're tortured by the loneliness of our existence, by the idea that we're just a freak of nature, the only ones of our kind. Or maybe we want to prove that there's no one else out there so we have the right to occupy a privileged position. I don't know. Why do you study whales and dolphins?'

I'm just. . . interested.' But that's not quite true, he thought. It's more than an interest … So what am I looking for?

Crowe was right. They were doing much the same thing, listening for signals and hoping for answers. They both had a deep-seated longing for the company of intelligent beings other than humans.

She seemed to know what he was thinking. 'Let's not con ourselves,' she said. 'We're not really interested in other forms of intelligent life. We want to know what their existence might mean for us.' She leaned back and smiled. 'I guess we're just looking for meaning.'

IT WAS NEARLY HALF past ten when they said goodbye after a drink in the lounge – bourbon for Crowe and water for Anawak. Outside, the clouds had dispersed and the sky was scattered with myriad twinkling stars. For a while they gazed up at it.

'I hope you find your whales,' she said at last.

I'll let you know, Sam.'

'They're lucky to have you as a friend. You've a good heart.'

'You can't know that!'

'In my line of work, knowing and believing share a wavelength.'

They shook hands.

'Maybe we'll meet again as orcas,' Anawak joked.

'Why?'

'The Kwakiutl Indians believe that if you lead a good life you'll return as an orca.'

I like the sound of that' Crowe grinned. 'Do you believe it?'

'Of course not.' 'But I thought…'

'You thought?' he said, although he knew without asking.

'That you were Indian.'

Anawak felt himself stiffen. Then he saw himself through her eyes: a man of medium height and stocky build, with wide cheekbones, copper skin, almond eyes and thick, shiny black hair that fell across his forehead. 'Something like that,' he said awkwardly.

Crowe glanced at him. Then she pulled out a packet of cigarettes, lit one and took a long drag. 'Another of my obsessions,' she remarked, blowing smoke. 'Look after yourself, Leon.'

13 March

Norwegian Coast and North Sea

Sigur Johanson heard nothing from Tina Lund for a week, during which he stood in for another professor, who'd been taken ill, and wrote an article for National Geographic. He also contacted an acquaintance who worked for the distinguished wine producers Hugel Fils in Riquewihr, Alsace, and arranged to be sent a few vintage bottles. In the meantime, he tracked down a 1959 vinyl recording of the Ring Cycle, conducted by Sir Georg Solti, which, with the wine, pushed his study of Lund's worms to the back of his mind.

It was nine days after their meeting when Lund finally called. She was in good spirits.

'You sound laid-back,' said Johanson. 'I hope that's not affecting your scientific judgment.'