Crowe caught her breath. No, she thought. This can't be happening. Not now. Not when they were so close to being saved.
There were screams as people crashed to the ground or started running. She was pulled along by the crowd, then lost her balance. Sprawled on the deck, she saw the Super Stallion lift away from the stationary chopper. One of the window-mounted machine-guns struck its tail. It started to heel.
The Stallion was out of control.
She leaped to her feet. Gripped with panic she ran.
Bridge
Buchanan couldn't believe what he was seeing. He'd been hurled without warning against his captain's chair, with its comfortable arm-and footrests. Everyone envied him that chair: it was a cross between Captain Kirk's command chair and a bar stool. Equipment flew across the room. Buchanan dragged himself up and dived towards the side window, in time to see one of the Super Stallions pitch slowly to one side. It was stuck.
'Everyone out of here!' he yelled.
People were fleeing the bridge now, but he watched as the trapped helicopter kept tipping.
Suddenly it broke free and rose into the air.
Buchanan gulped. For a moment it seemed that the pilot was back in control. But the chopper was at an impossible tilt, the tail sticking vertically into the air. The engine screamed louder, then the Super Stallion hurtled towards him, rotors first.
With a total loaded weight of over thirty-three tonnes, and carrying nine thousand litres of fuel, the aircraft crashed into the bridge and transformed the front of the island into a blazing inferno. A ball of flame shot through the superstructure, charring the furniture, causing monitors to blow out and bulkheads to tear open. It bore down on the fleeing figures, incinerating them as it swept down the passageways into the heart of the island.
Flight Deck
Crowe was running for dear life. Burning debris rained from above. She raced towards the stern. The Independence was at such an angle now that she had to run uphill, which induced a fit of wheezing. Over the last few years her lungs had taken in more cigarette smoke than fresh air. And she'd always thought she'd die of lung cancer.
She stumbled and skidded over the asphalt. As she picked herself up she saw that the entire front section of the island had disappeared in flames. The second helicopter was burning too. People were running across the deck, human torches crashing to the ground. It was a horrific sight, but more horrifying was the certainty that she no longer stood a chance of escaping from the sinking ship.
Balls of fire rose over the vessel as violent explosions shook it. Then there was a deafening bang, followed by a shower of sparks only metres from her feet.
Shankar had died in the inferno.
That wasn't what she wanted for herself.
She darted towards the stern, without the faintest idea of what she would do when she got there.
03 LEVEL
Li swore. She still had a torpedo under her arm, but the second had rolled out of sight. It had either fallen down the companionway or was sliding down the corridor towards the bow. And all because of that asshole Peak.
She stepped over the body, still trying to decide whether to make do with just one torpedo. But what if it didn't eject the toxin?
Straining her eyes, she peered down the passageway.
Suddenly she heard an incredible roar above her. This time the vessel shook even more violently. She was flung backwards, and slid down the passageway on her back. She had to get out. This was no longer just about seeing through the mission – to survive she needed the Deepflight.
The torpedo slipped out of her grip.
'Shit!'
She made a grab for it, but it clattered away. If it had been packed with explosive, it would have detonated by now. Instead it was full of liquid – enough to wipe out an entire intelligent race.
She braced her arms and legs, and a few seconds later she stopped sliding, aching as though she'd been bludgeoned with an iron rod. She used the wall to push herself up and looked around.
The second torpedo had vanished too.
She could have screamed.
The noises from the flood waters sounded alarmingly close and she could hear cracking and banging from above. There wasn't much time.
She stood still. There was no mistaking it. It was getting warmer.
She had to find those torpedoes.
Lab
The young soldier had been right behind them, gun at the ready, when the blast rocked the lab. They all splashed into the water. As Weaver surfaced, there was another almighty bang overhead. Then the lights went out and she was staring into darkness.
'Sigur?' she called.
No answer.
'MacMillan?'
'Over here.'
Her feet touched the deck. She was up to her chest in water. Why now? She'd almost got hold of one of the bodies… Something prodded her shoulder and her hand whipped up. A boot – and inside it a leg.
'Karen?'
Johanson was somewhere close by. Little by little her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Without warning the emergency lighting flashed on, illuminating the laboratory with a red glow. She saw the outline of Johanson's head protruding from the water. 'This way!' she called. 'I need a hand.'
A dull roar came from above as well as below. The lab was getting warmer. Johanson appeared beside her.
'Who is it?'
'No idea. Just help me shift it.'
'We've got to get out,' MacMillan said breathlessly. 'Hurry.'
'We're just coming, we're-'
'Hurry!'
Weaver's eyes were drawn to the far end of the lab.
A faint blue glow.
Then a flash.
She tightened her grip on the body and fought through the water to the door. Johanson had the dead man's arm. Or was it a woman? Weaver prayed that it wasn't poor Sue. She trod on something that slid away to one side. Her head disappeared under water.
Eyes wide she stared into the darkness. Something was snaking towards her. It bore down on her rapidly like a long, glittering eel. No, not an eel. More like an enormous headless worm. And it wasn't alone.
Her head shot up. 'Let's get out of here.'
Johanson yanked at the corpse. Below the surface a tangle of swarming tentacles had appeared. MacMillan raised his gun. Weaver felt something slide past her ankle.
In a flash, feelers were winding themselves round her body, crawling upwards. She tore at them, trying to prise them off. Then Johanson was beside her, digging his fingers under the tentacles, but he might as well have been trying to free her from an anaconda.
The creature was pulling her backwards.
Creature? It wasn't one creature she was fighting but billions. Billions and billions of amoebas.
'It's no good!' Johanson gasped.
The jelly slid over her chest, and she was pushed back under the water. The glow was brighter now. At the far end of the tentacles a large mass was approaching. The main body of the organism.
She fought to the surface. 'MacMillan,' she gurgled.
The soldier raised his gun.
'It's no use shooting,' screamed Johanson. 'It won't help.'
All of a sudden MacMillan seemed calm. He took aim, keeping his sights on the mass of jelly as it moved through the water. 'Oh, this'll help, all right,' he said.
There was a dry staccato sound as he fired.
'This always helps.'
The volley pierced the organism. Water sprayed in all directions. MacMillan fired a second round, and the creature was blasted to shreds. Clumps of jelly whirled through the air. Suddenly Weaver was free. Johanson grasped the body, and together they pulled it frantically through the water, picking up speed as the water level sank. The ship was tilting more drastically than ever now, prompting most of the water to collect at the bow end of the lab. The area around the door was almost dry. They hurried up the slope, careful not to slip, until suddenly the water was only ankle deep.
They heaved the body out on to the ramp. W
eaver was almost sure she'd heard a muffled cry.
'MacMillan?'
She stuck her head back around the door. 'MacMillan? Where are you?'
The glowing organism was aggregating again. There was no sign of tentacles. The creature was now a flat sheet.
'Close the door,' Johanson shouted. 'It could still get out. There's water everywhere.'
'MacMillan?'
Weaver gripped the doorframe and stared into the room, but the soldier was gone. He hadn't made it.
A thin, glowing tendril approached. She leaped back and hit the switch for the door. The tendril rushed forward, but the door snapped shut.
Experiments
Anawak had been climbing down a companion way when the blast rocked the boat. Now his breath was coming in gasps and his knee hurt. He swore. He'd had trouble with that knee ever since the crash in the seaplane, and then Vanderbilt had kicked it.
The only way to the well deck now was via the vehicle ramp leading down from the hangar bay. He turned and went up until he was on the right level to get to the ramp. It got steadily warmer as he ascended. What was happening up there? He stumbled on to the hangar deck and saw thick black smoke pouring through the gateways from the elevators.
Suddenly he heard someone calling for help.
He took a few steps into the hangar. 'Is anyone there?' he shouted.
It was hard to see anything: the pale yellow lights weren't strong enough to penetrate the dark smoke. But he could hear the voice clearly now.
It was Crowe.
'Sam?' Anawak ran part-way through the sooty cloud. He stopped to listen. 'Sam? Where are you?'
No answer.
He waited for a moment, then turned and ran towards the ramp. He didn't notice until too late that it was now as steep as a chute. His legs gave way and he thudded downwards, praying that at least some of the syringes would survive. At the bottom, he splashed into a pool of water that cushioned his fall. He shook himself, crawled out on all fours and saw Weaver and Johanson walking away from the lab, dragging a body in the direction of the well deck.
Ahead, the floor was covered with a thin film of water.
Of course! The basin had been full of water, which was now streaming into the passageway. If the ship tilted any further this whole compartment would flood.
They had to hurry.
'I've got the syringes,' he shouted after them.
Johanson glanced round. 'About time.'
'Who've you got?' Anawak ran to catch up with them, and looked down at the body.
Rubin.
Flight Deck
Crouched at the far end of the roof Crowe watched the island go up in smoke.
A man with Pakistani features was lying next to her, shaking all over and dressed in a cook's uniform. Either they were the only ones to have run in this direction, or no one else had made it. The man coughed and sat up.
'This is what happens when intelligent species disagree,' Crowe told him.
He stared at her as though she had three heads.
Crowe sighed. She'd run to a spot directly above the starboard-side elevator. Below them was the opening to the hangar deck. She'd called over the side a few times, but no one had answered.
The boat was burning, and they were going to sink.
Maybe there were lifeboats somewhere on board, but they wouldn't be much use. Everything on a helicopter carrier was set up for people to be evacuated by air. And, anyway, even if they did find the lifeboats, they'd still need someone to lower them, and everyone who knew how to do so had vanished in the blaze.
Tarry black smoke drifted towards them. 'Have you got any cigarettes?' she asked.
She expected him to pronounce her completely insane, but instead he dug out a packet of Marlboros. 'They're Lights,' he explained.
'Oh, the healthy option…' Crowe smiled and inhaled as the cook put his lighter to the tip. 'Very sensible.'
Pheromones
'We'll squirt it into his tongue, his nose, his eyes and his ears,' said Weaver.
'Why?' asked Anawak.
'To give it a better chance of escaping.'
'In that case we should get some into his fingertips and toes. The more the better.'
The well deck was deserted. The technicians had fled. They undressed Rubin to his underpants, working as swiftly as they could, while Johanson filled Anawak's syringes with the pheromone. Rubin was laid out above the embankment. The water was only a few centimetres deep, but it was rising all the time. They'd removed the layers of jelly clinging to his head and flung them out of reach of the water. There was more inside his ears, which Anawak fished out.
'You could inject some into his arse,' said Johanson. 'We've got plenty.'
'Do you think it will work?' Weaver asked doubtfully.
'The few yrr that are still trapped inside him won't be able to make nearly as much of the pheromone as we're giving him. So if they fall for the ruse, they'll think it's all coming from him.' Johanson crouched and held out a bunch of syringes, 'who's going first-'
Weaver felt a wave of revulsion.
'Well, don't all shout at once,' said Johanson. 'Leon?'
In the end they did it together. Hastily they pumped Rubin with nearly two litres of the pheromone solution. Half of that probably ran straight back out.
'The water's rising,' said Anawak.
Weaver listened. Screeching and whining noises were still coming from all over the boat. 'It's getting warmer.'
'Because the roofs on fire.'
'Come on.' Weaver put her hands under Rubin's armpits and pulled him up. 'Let's get this over with before Li shows up.'
'I thought Peak had put her out of action,' said Johanson.
'I wouldn't count on it,' said Anawak, as they dragged Rubin's body to the basin. 'You know Li. She's not that easy to get rid of.
03 LEVEL
Li was beside herself with rage. She raced down the passageway, stopping at every open door, then sprinting onwards. That damn torpedo had to be somewhere. It was probably right in front of her. 'Look harder,' she scolded herself 'They're torpedoes, for Christ's sake. You can't be that stupid, you pathetic half-witted…'
The deck shuddered. She lost her balance and clung to the side. The water had evidently torn down more bulkheads. The passageway tilted further. The Independence was so bow-heavy that it wouldn't be long before waves were washing the flight deck.
She was running out of time.
All of a sudden she spotted the torpedo. It had rolled out from an open passageway. Li whooped in triumph. She darted forwards, grabbed it and ran back towards the companionway. Peak's body had slumped through the entrance. She pulled away the heavy corpse, then climbed down the ladder and jumped the final two metres.
The second torpedo was lying at the bottom.
From now on it would be child's play. She hurried on. Maybe it wouldn't be so easy after all – fallen objects blocked several of the companionways. It would take too long to clear them. She had to go back. Up and on to the hangar deck, then down the ramp.
Hugging the torpedoes, she made her way up as fast as she could.
Anawak
Rubin weighed a tonne. Once they'd pulled on their wetsuits – to Johanson's groans of pain – they combined forces to drag the body up the starboard jetty, which was sticking out into the air like a ski-jump. The water had drained away from the stern gate now, exposing the planked floor. The four moored Zodiacs had risen steadily as the contents of the basin flowed into the tunnel towards the lab. Anawak listened to the creaking steel and wondered how much longer the vessel could bear the strain.
The three submersibles were hanging obliquely from the ceiling. Deepflight 2 had taken the place of the missing Deepflight 1. The other two boats had each moved up a position.
'Which one was Li intending to take?' asked Anawak.
'Deepflight 3,' said Weaver.
They inspected the control panel and flipped various switches. Nothing happened.
Anawak's
eyes scanned the console. 'Roscovitz said that the well deck had its own power supply.' He bent closer to the desk and read the labels. 'OK, this is the one. It lowers the submersibles. Let's have Deepflight 3, so Li can't cause any trouble if she shows up here.'
Weaver activated the mechanism. A submersible descended from the rail, but it was the first, not the second.
'Um, can't you get Deepflight 3 for me?'
'Well, I expect I could, if I knew how the bloody thing worked. They're going to have to come down one by one.'
'Never mind,' Johanson said. 'We don't have time to worry about it. Take Deepflight 2 instead.'
They waited until the boat was hovering alongside the jetty. Weaver bounded over and opened the pods. Rubin's body was unbelievably heavy, saturated with water and pheromone fluid. His head jerked back and forth, eyes glazed and staring emptily into space. Together they pushed and pulled until it plopped into the co-pilot's pod. They were ready.
Anawak thought of the iceberg in his dream. He'd known that the time would come when he'd be called under water. The iceberg would melt and he'd sink to the bottom of an unknown sea…
But who or what would he meet there?
Weaver
'You're not going, Leon.'
'What do you mean?'
'What I say.' One of Rubin's feet was sticking out of the pod. Weaver kicked it back in. 'I'm going.'
'Why?'
'Because that's how it should be, that's why.'
'You can't.' He took her by the shoulders. 'Karen, you might not come back alive, it's-'
'I know the risks,' she said softly, 'but none of our chances are good. You two take the other subs and wish me luck.'
'Karen! Why?'
'Do you really need to hear reasons?'
'Forgive me for interrupting,' said Johanson, 'but we're rather pushed for time. Why don't you both stay, and I'll go?'
'No.' Weaver hadn't taken her eyes off Anawak. 'Leon knows I'm right. I can steer a Deepflight in my sleep. I've got the edge over you both there. I've been down thousands of metres in Alvin exploring the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. I know more about submersibles than the two of you put together and -'
The Swarm Page 94