Anawak shivered. It didn't seem great to him; in fact, without knowing why, he felt clammy with fear at the thought of Crowe's aliens.

So… who are they? What are they?

The SETI researcher gestured towards the dark water beyond the ice. They're out there, she said. And I think they want to meet you. They like making contact. But you'll have to go and find them.

I can't, said Anawak.

Why ever not?

Anawak stared at the dark, powerful bodies ploughing through the water. There were dozens of them, maybe hundreds. He knew they were there because of him, and realised all at once that they were feeding on his fear.

I-I just can't.

Don't be a coward. Just take a step, Crowe teased him. It's the easiest thing in the world. Think how hard it was for us. We searched the universe to find them.

Anawak's shivering redoubled. He walked up to the edge and looked out. On the horizon, where the black water embraced the sky, a light shone in the distance.

Just go, said Crowe.

I flew here, thought Anawak, through a dark green ocean full of life, and I wasn't afraid. Nothing can happen to me now. The water will bear my weight like solid ground, and I'll reach the light on the strength of my will. Sam's right. It's easy. There's no need to be afraid.

An enormous creature plunged through the water in front of him, and a colossal two-pronged tail tilted up to the stars.

No need to be afraid.

But he had hesitated a moment too long, and he faltered again at the sight of the tail. His will couldn't carry him, and the power of dreams gave way to the force of gravity. Stepping forward, he sank into the sea. Water washed over his head, engulfing him in darkness. He tried to cry out and his mouth filled with water, rushing painfully into his lungs. It pulled him under, although he fought it. His heart was heating wildly, and there was a noise in his head, a droning or hammering…

Anawak sat up and hanged his head against the ceiling. 'Damn.' He groaned.

The hanging was there again. No droning this time, just a gentle tapping, like knuckles on wood. He rolled on to his side and saw Alicia Delaware. She was stooping, peering into his berth. 'Sorry,' she said. 'I didn't know you'd shoot up like that.'

Anawak stared at her. Delaware?

Slowly the memory came back. He knew where he was. Clutching his head, he slumped back on to the bed.

'What time is it?'

'Nine thirty.'

'Shit.'

'You look terrible. Were you having a nightmare?'

'Forget it.'

'How about some coffee?'

'Good idea.' He fingered the spot where he'd hit his head and winced. 'Where's the alarm? I set it for seven.'

'You slept through it – and no wonder, after everything that's happened.' She went through to the kitchenette. 'Where's the-'

'Cupboard on the wall. Left-hand side. Coffee, filter paper, milk and sugar.'

'Are you hungry? I do a great breakfast.'

'No.'

She filled the percolator with water. Anawak dragged himself out of his bunk. 'Don't look round. I've got to get changed.'

'Chill, Leon. I've seen it all before.'

Grimacing, he glanced around for his jeans. They were screwed up in a heap on the bench by the table. Putting them on wasn't easy. He felt dizzy, and his injured leg hurt when he bent it.

'Did John Ford call?' he asked.

'Yeah. A while ago.'

'Oh, for crying out loud…'

'What now?'

'A pensioner could get dressed faster than I can. And why the hell didn't I hear the alarm? I wanted to-'

'Leon, you're a jerk. The day before yesterday you and I were in a plane crash. Your knee's swollen, my brain took a hammering, but so what? We were lucky as hell. We could have been killed, like Danny and the pilot. And all you can do is moan about your stupid alarm. Now, are you ready?'

Anawak dropped down on to the bench. 'Fine. Point taken. What did John have to say?'

'All the data's there, and he's taken a look at the video.'

'It just gets better. And?'

'That's all he said. You're supposed to draw your own conclusions.' She heaped coffee into the filter, slotted it on to the jug and started the machine. After a few seconds the room was filled with slurping sounds. 'I told him you were asleep,' she went on, 'and he said not to wake you.'

'He said what?'

'He said you needed to get better. And he's right.'

'I am better,' said Anawak stubbornly.

But he wasn't sure of it. The DHC-2 had lost its right wing when it collided with the breaching whale. Danny had probably died on the spot – the Whistler hadn't retrieved his body but there was no real doubt. He hadn't got inside in time, which meant the side door had been open when the plane hit the water. That was what had saved Anawak. He'd been thrown out of the cabin on impact. After that his mind was blank. He couldn't even remember what had happened to his knee. He'd come round on the Whistler, brought back to life by the throbbing.

Then he'd noticed Delaware stretched out beside him, and the pain had stopped mattering. For a moment, he'd thought she was dead, but someone had told him that she was OK. She'd been even luckier than he had. The body of the pilot had cushioned her fall. Barely conscious, she'd struggled free from the sinking wreck, and the plane had filled with water in less than a minute. The Whistler's crew had managed to fish Anawak and Delaware out of the water, but the pilot and his DHC-2 had sunk into the depths.

The trip had ended in tragedy, but their goal had been achieved. Danny had fired the tag. The URA had followed the whales and recorded twenty-four hours' worth of footage without coming under attack. Anawak had known the recording would arrive on John Ford's desk at the aquarium that morning, and he'd intended to be there on time. Besides, the Centre national d'études spatiales had released all the telemetric data received so far from the tag. They'd have been patting themselves on the back now, if the plane hadn't crashed.

Instead things were looking more desperate than ever. People were dying every day. On two occasions he'd nearly died. At the time of Stringer's death he'd dealt with things quite well – perhaps his anger with Greywolf had distracted him from his grief. But now, two days after the plane crash, he felt wretched – as though he'd finally succumbed to an insidious sickness, and was paying for it in uncertainty, self-doubt and a worrying lack of strength. There was a chance he might be in shock, but Anawak didn't quite buy it. There seemed more to it than that. Ever since he'd been hurled from the plane, he'd had spells of dizziness, pains in his chest and vague feelings of panic.

He wasn't better, and the problem wasn't his knee.

Anawak felt bruised inside.

The previous day he'd done little but sleep. Davie, Shoemaker and the rest of the team had been to see him, and Ford had called a few times to ask how he was. Apart from that no one seemed overly concerned. While Delaware's parents and friends were urging her to leave the island, the only people who'd spared a thought for Anawak were his colleagues.

He was ill, and he knew the doctors couldn't help him.

Delaware put a mug of coffee on the table in front of him and studied him through her blue-tinted shades. Anawak took a gulp and burnt his tongue. He asked her to fetch him the phone.

'Can I ask you a personal question, Leon?' she said.

'Later.'

'How much later?'

He punched a series of digits.

'We haven't finished sifting the data,' said Ford. 'Take your time and get some rest.'

'You told Licia I should draw my own conclusions.'

'Yes, once we've been through the rest. So far it's uninteresting. For the moment, we'll carry on sifting. Who knows? Maybe you can save yourself a trip.'

'When will you be done?'