13 August

Visitors

The message had been beamed non-stop into the depths – as yet to no avail. At seven o'clock they'd been jolted out of bed by the alarm call, but almost no one felt properly rested. Most nights the gentle rocking motion of the enormous vessel lulled them to sleep. The air-conditioning hummed softly in the cabins, keeping the temperature agreeably constant, and the beds were comfortable. They might have slept soundly, but for the suspense. Instead they'd dozed fitfully. Johanson had lain awake imagining the effect of the message on the Greenland Sea, until nightmare visions haunted him.

That they were in the Greenland Sea at all, and not thousands of kilometres further to the south, was due only to his intervention, with the support of Bohrmann and Weaver. If it had been up to Rubin, Anawak and some of the others, the attempt to make contact would have been launched over the site of the volcanoes in the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Rubin's reasoning was based on similarities between the crabs of that region and those that had invaded New York and Washington. Besides, it was one of the few places in the depths that provided the right conditions for sophisticated life-forms to flourish. In that respect, the habitat in the hydrothermal vents was ideal. Hot water rose up from huge chimneys of rock on the seabed, drawing with it minerals and life-giving nutrients from the heart of the volcanoes. Worms, mussels, fish and crabs inhabited the vents in conditions not dissimilar to those of an alien planet. Why shouldn't the yrr live there too?

Johanson had accepted most of their arguments, but two factors prevented him backing their conclusion. First, although the hydrothermal vents were the most favourable place for life in the deep sea, they were also the most lethal. Molten rock was regularly cast out of the volcanoes as the ocean plates shifted apart. During such eruptions the deep-sea biotope could be wiped out entirely, although it didn't take long for new life to establish itself. All the same, it was hardly an environment that a complex, intelligent civilisation would choose as its home.

Second, the chance of making contact with the yrr was greater, the closer they got to them. Exactly where that might he was a matter for debate. All the various theories were probably right to a degree. There was reason to believe, for example, that they might live in the benthic zone at the very bottom of the ocean. Many of the recent anomalies had occurred in the immediate vicinity of deep-sea trenches. Yet there was also evidence to suggest that they resided in the vast ocean basins of the abyssal plains. And Rubin's suggestion that they might inhabit the oases of life in the middle of the Atlantic couldn't be rejected. In the end Johanson had proposed that they shouldn't focus on where the yrr might live, but on places where they had to be present.

The cold water in the Greenland Sea had stopped plummeting into the depths. As a result, the Gulf Stream had halted. There were only two possible explanations for the phenomenon: either the water had warmed, or an influx of fresh water flowing southwards from the Arctic had diluted the salt-laden current so it could no longer sink. Both explanations presupposed intense activity at the site of the convective chimneys. Somewhere in the Arctic Ocean the yrr were providing the impetus for radical changes in the sea.

Somewhere not far from the vessel.

Lastly, there was the safety aspect. Even Bohrmann, who had got into the habit of expecting the worst, was forced to concede that the risk of a methane blow-out in the Greenland Basin was relatively small. Bauer's ship had come to grief near Svalbard, at a site where vast deposits of hydrates lined the continental slope. By contrast, 3500 metres of water separated the Independence from the seabed. At that depth there was relatively little methane, certainly not enough to sink a vessel of that size. To be on the safe side, the scientists had taken regular seismic readings as they crossed the Arctic Ocean, selecting a position that seemed mainly hydrate-free. Stationed on the open water, the Independence would be safe from the mightiest tsunami – unless, of course, La Palma collapsed into the sea.

But then it would all be over anyway.

Inside the cavernous messroom, the scientists were having breakfast. Anawak and Greywolf were missing. After the alarm call Johanson had spent a few minutes talking on the phone to Bohrmann, who'd arrived in La Palma and was preparing to deploy the suction tube. 'The Canaries were a time-zone behind the Arctic, but Bohrmann had been up for hours already.

'A five-hundred-metre suction tube doesn't take care of itself,' he'd said.

'Don't forget to vacuum in all the corners,' Johanson had advised him.

He missed Bohrmann, but there no shortage of interesting people on board. He was chatting to Crowe when first officer Floyd Anderson walked in, holding a pint-sized insulated mug emblazoned 'USS Wasp LHD-8.' He walked over to the coffee machine and filled it. 'We've got visitors,' he bellowed.

Everyone turned.

'We've made contact?' asked Oliviera.

'We can't have. I'd know.' Crowe picked up a slice of toast and took a bite. Her third or fourth cigarette was smouldering in the ashtray. 'Shankar's in the CIC. He'd have called.'

'Well, what is it? An alien landing?'

'Why don't you take a look from the roof?' Anderson said cryptically.

FLIGHT DECK

The cold air clung to Johanson's face like a mask. The sky was suffused with white. Grey waves rose with spray-crowned crests. A wind had blown up overnight and was raining minute crystals of ice across the deck. Johanson spotted a group of muffled figures on the starboard side of the ship. As he got closer, he identified Li, Anawak and Greywolf. At the same time he saw what was holding their attention.

Not far from the Independence the dark outlines of sword-like fins cut through the water.

'Orcas,' said Anawak, as Johanson joined them.

'What are they doing?'

Anawak squinted at him through the shower of ice. 'They've been circling the vessel for the past three hours. The dolphins alerted us. I'd say they're watching us.'

Shankar ran over from the island to join them.

'What's going on?'

'We seem to have caught someone's attention,' said Crowe. 'Maybe it's a response.'

The orcas kept a respectful distance from the vessel. There were hordes of them – hundreds, thought Johanson. They were swimming at a steady speed, their shiny black backs rising occasionally above the waves. There was no denying that they looked like a patrol.

'Are they infected?'

Anawak wiped water out of his eyes. 'We don't know.'

'Tell me,' Greywolf rubbed his chin, 'if this stuff is controlling their brains, has it occurred to you that it might be able to see us? Or hear us?'

'You're right,' said Anawak. 'It's in control of their sensory organs.'

'Exactly. It means that gunk has eyes and ears.'

They stared out to sea.

'Either way,' said Crowe, drawing on her cigarette and exhaling into the icy air, 'it's started.' Wisps of smoke rose above their heads.

'What has?' asked Li.

'They're sizing us up.'

'Let them.' A thin smile formed on Li's lips. 'We're ready for anything.'

'For everything we've anticipated,' said Crowe.

LAB

As he headed below deck with Rubin and Oliviera, Johanson asked himself whether a psychosis could forge its own reality. He'd started the ball rolling. Of course, if he hadn't come up with the theory, someone else would. But the fact remained that they were creating information on the basis of a hypothesis. All it took was for a pack of orcas to circle the Independence, and everyone saw the eyes and ears of aliens. In fact, they were seeing aliens everywhere. That was what had prompted them to send the message in the first place, and it was why they were expecting an answer.