The Swarm (111 page)

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 the Grey Wolf 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.