Frank Schatzing - The Swarm

'As deep as you like. You could fly straight to the bottom of the Mariana Trench in less than ninety minutes. This baby can fly at twelve knots. The pressure hull is ceramic and the transparent domes are acrylic, enclosed in titanium. It's safe at any depth. It also provides a fantastic panoramic view, which will help us decide whether to turn tail or take aim.' He pointed to the underside. 'We've equipped our Deep-flights with four torpedoes. Two are loaded with a small amount of explosive – enough to seriously injure a whale, or maybe even kill it. The other two will do even more damage. You can use them to blast through rock or get rid of an entire pack of whales. But please leave the missiles to the pilot, unless, of course, he's dead or unconscious, in which case you won't have much choice.'

Roscovitz clapped his hands.

'You can fight among yourselves for the chance to be first for a test flight. And there's one more thing you should know. The fuel will give you eight hours' flight time. If you get stuck anywhere, the life-support system wall provide you with sufficient oxygen for ninety-six hours. Either way, there's no need to panic – by then God's very own taskforce, the US Navy, will have come to your rescue. So, who wants to go first?'

'Without any water?' asked Shankar, casting a sceptical look at the basin.

Roscovitz grinned. 'Would fifteen thousand tonnes be enough?'

'Er… well, I guess so.'

'Here goes, then. Let's flood the deck.'

COMBAT INFORMATION CENTER

Two radio operators had been detailed to fill in for Crowe and Shankar while Roscovitz was instructing the scientists. The guys were killing time. Strictly speaking, they were supposed to keep their mouths shut and their ears open, but they knew they could rely on the computer, as well as on Shankar's SOSUS team back home in the States. If any noise were to emerge from the depths, it would be picked up onshore by countless electronic systems and human brains, then filtered out and sent back to the Independence with a full analysis and report. Crowe's message had been sent from the vessel, and the Independence was listening for a reply, but she was only one of many listening posts. If the yrr were to answer, the sound would be picked up by the Atlantic Ocean's hydrophone array. Using the distances between the hydrophones and the time taken for the signal to reach each one in turn, the computer could calculate the position from which the signal had been sent. The information would be forwarded to the CIC, where the operators would be bound to see it.

Trusting in the power of technology, the men were engaged in an impassioned musical debate. They were so caught up in white hip-hop that it didn't occur to them to glance at the screens. Eventually one reached across to pick up his coffee and glanced round. He stared.

Jeez! What the hell is that?'

Coloured waves were flickering over two screens.

The other man stared too. 'Since when have they been there?'

'Dunno.' The radio operator peered at the lines. 'We should have been notified by the onshore team. How come they're not calling? They must be receiving it too.'

It's that the frequency Crowe used for the message?'

'Don't ask me. I'm not getting any audible noise, though – must be ultrasound or infrasound.'

The other guy thought for a moment. 'The nearest hydrophone is off the coast of Newfoundland. Sound takes a while to travel, but no one else has picked up the signal, which means…'

'It's coming from here.'

DEEPFLIGHT

The hydraulic system set to work noisily as the vast ballast tanks flooded. The Independence's stern sank slowly through the water as seawater rushed inside.

'There's also the option of admitting water via the sluice,' Roscovitz shouted above the noise, 'but that would mean opening the hatches simultaneously, which would breach our security, so it's something we're keen to avoid. We get round it by using a specially designed pump system. A closed loop of pipes feeds water up to the deck. It's filtered several times before it gets here. The basin is lined with sensors, like the sluice, so you can be sure the water's safe before you jump into the pool.'

'Will we be testing the boats in the basin?' asked Johanson.

'Hell, no – we're going to fly them outside.'

Now that the dolphin fleet had reported the retreat of the orcas, Roscovitz felt satisfied that they could risk a few dives.

'My God.' Rubin was staring at the frothing water in the basin. He appeared to be frozen to the spot. 'It looks as though we're sinking.'

Roscovitz grinned at him. 'I've been on a sinking warship and, trust me, it's nothing like this.'

Metre by metre, the stern of the enormous vessel sank deeper into the water. The Independence was too large for anyone to feel her tilting. The change was minimal – it would have taken a spirit level to detect it – but the effect on the well deck was astonishing. The water level rose until it was lapping the edge of the jetty. Within a few minutes, the deck had been transformed into a four-metre-deep pool. By now the dolphin tank was underwater, which allowed its occupants to swim the full length of the deck. The Zodiacs drifted on the surface, moored securely to the embankment. Deepflight 1 bobbed gently on the waves.

Browning let down another submersible from the rail overhead. She was standing at the control panel, operating the joystick. One by one she manoeuvred the boats along the monorail until they were lined up next to the jetty. Then she opened the pods. They clapped open like fighter-plane cockpits.

'Each pod can be opened and closed individually,' she explained. 'Getting in is easy, although you might be soaked on your first attempt. The water is heated on its way into the basin so it's a balmy fifteen degrees, but don't think of taking off your suits. If you were tipped into the ocean without one, it would all be over in minutes. The water temperature off the coast of Greenland reaches a maximum of two degrees.'

'Any questions?' Roscovitz organised the first groups, pairing scientists with pilots. 'Let's go, then. We'll stick close to the vessel. Our friendly colleagues from the dolphin fleet have given us the all-clear, but things could change at any moment. Leon, you're coming with me. We'll take Deepflight 1.'

He jumped on to the boat, which lurched from side to side. Anawak tried to copy him, but lost his balance and landed in the water. He spluttered to the surface and was greeted by laughter.

'I guess that's what I meant,' Browning said drily.

Anawak pulled himself on to the hull and slid into the pod on his belly. To his surprise it felt comfortable and roomy. He wasn't lying completely flat; the pod slanted upwards, so his body assumed the position of a ski jumper in mid-flight. In front of him he found a control panel. Roscovitz switched on the power, and the pods closed soundlessly.

'Not exactly the Ritz, eh, Leon?'

The commander voice boomed out of the loudspeakers and into Anawak's ears. He turned his head. A metre away from him, Roscovitz was looking out of his acrylic pod and grinning at him. 'See that joystick in front of you? Remember I told you it's like a plane? Well, that's how it flies. So you're going to have to learn to fly it like a plane – gaining and losing height, banking round. You need to be able to move in all four directions. It's equipped with four thrusters that generate sufficient counter-force to allow the vehicle to hover. I'll fly the first loop, then you'll take over, at which point I'll tell you what you're doing wrong.'

All of a sudden the vessel tipped forward. Water washed over the acrylic domes, and they banked down in a gentle curve. Floodlights lit up at the bow and on the wings. Anawak saw the planks at the bottom of the basin slide beneath them, and then they were hovering at the opening to the sluice. The flaps opened to reveal a shaft that stretched down several metres, fully lit, with a dark steel hatch at the bottom. The Deepflight sank leisurely through it and the glass flaps closed above them. He felt a wave of queasiness.