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.