The Swarm: A Novel

by Frank Schätzing

  The President pressed his fingertips together. His voice was measured. ‘This is a test for all humanity. Perhaps God intended two powerful races to inhabit this planet - maybe the Good Book was right about the horned beast that comes up from the water. “Replenish the Earth, and subdue it.” Those were the Lord’s instructions, and He didn’t give them to any kind of monster in the sea.’

  ‘Hell, no,’ grumbled Vanderbilt. ‘He preached it to America directly.’

  ‘This could be the final battle in the fight against evil.’ The President straightened in his chair. ‘And we’ve been appointed by God to fight for Him–and win.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Li, seizing on the idea, ‘whoever wins this battle will govern the earth.’

  Peak gave her a sideways look and said nothing.

  ‘I think we should have a frank discussion with the other NATO states and the EU,’ said the secretary of state, ‘after which, we’ll have to put the UN in the picture.’

  Li jumped in: ‘Of course, the UN won’t be capable of handling this kind of operation, and we’ll need to make that clear. Sure, they’ll have people with know-how and ideas, and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t pick their brains. Let’s enlist the help of our Asian and African allies as well - that sends out the right kind of message. But this is our chance to position ourselves at the head of the international community. Mankind isn’t about to be wiped from the face of the Earth by a meteorite. This is a terrible threat we’re facing, but we’re going to overcome it - provided we get things right.’

  ‘Have your counter-measures proven successful?’ asked the national security adviser.

  ‘We’re running an international campaign to find an anti-serum that will protect against the toxins. Initiatives are under way to stop the advance of the crabs, bring a halt to the whale attacks and get rid of the worms - which is proving trickier than expected. We’ve taken all kinds of measures to contain the risks, but conventional solutions won’t be enough. There’s nothing we can do about the Gulf Stream, and the methane crisis is beyond our control. We could keep fishing worms out of the ocean in their millions, but if we can’t see where they’re coming from, there’ll always be fresh plagues. Without the capacity to send down divers, probes or subs, we’re as good as blind. Anything could be going on down there. In the course of this afternoon I was informed that two large drag nets have been lost near Georges Bank. In addition to that, there’s no sign of the three trawlers that we’d dispatched to the Laurentian valley to sweep the seabed. Recon planes are out looking for them, but conditions are terrible. The Grand Banks are to the east of there, and the fog never lifts. Besides, a storm’s been raging for the past two days.’ She paused. ‘There are thousands of other examples I could give you. All the reports coming in bear witness to our failure. OK, so the drone surveillance is working well, and troops with flame-throwers are beating back the crabs - but it’s only temporary. They just crawl ashore elsewhere. The fact is, as far as the oceans are concerned, we don’t call the shots. We never really called them in the first place, but now…’

  ‘What about the sonar offensive?’

  ‘We’re still pressing ahead with it, but we’re not anticipating any significant success. The only way we can get it to work is by killing the whales. They don’t flee from the noise, as any creature with healthy instincts would do. I guess they’re in horrible pain, but they don’t have a choice - they’re not in control. They’re still terrorising the waters.’

  ‘Speaking of control,’ said the defense secretary, ‘have you identified a strategy?’

  ‘I’d say we’re looking at a five-point plan. The first step is to clear the waters of all human presence, whether on the surface or in the depths. Step two is to expel or annihilate the coastal population, as with northern Europe. Step three aims to destroy our infrastructure - the offshore industry in northern Europe would be a case in point. The disruption of the fishing industry also falls into this category - it’s going to cause us some serious issues with malnutrition, especially in third-world countries. Step four targets the major cities, the pillars of our civilisation - urban populations are forced to retreat inland. And, finally, step five, the climate shifts, and the Earth becomes uninhabitable for our species. It either freezes or floods, warms up or cools down, or maybe all of those - we don’t know the details.’

  ‘But wouldn’t that make it uninhabitable for the entire animal kingdom?’ asked the national security adviser.

  ‘On land, yes. It’s fair to say it would wipe out most species of flora and fauna. I’ve been reliably informed, though, that the same thing happened fifty-five million years ago, with the net result that large numbers of animals and plants died out, making way for other species. They’re bound to have thought very carefully about their own survival before precipitating a crisis like this.’

  ‘Such destruction. It’s…’ The secretary of Homeland Security struggled for words. ‘It’s so extreme. It’s inhuman…’

  ‘Well, they’re not human,’ Li reminded him.

  ‘What hope do we have of stopping them?’

  ‘We’ve got to find out who they are,’ said Vanderbilt.

  Li turned to him. ‘Don’t tell me you’re finally coming round?’

  ‘Oh, I haven’t changed my view,’ Vanderbilt said evenly, ‘but if you identify the purpose of an action, you’ll identify the culprit. In this particular instance, I have to admit that the five-point strategy is the most convincing explanation I’ve heard. Now we need to find out more. Who exactly are they? Where are they? How can we see inside their minds?’

  ‘And how are we going to stop them?’ the defense secretary added.

  ‘Evil,’ muttered the President, his eyes narrowing. ‘How best to vanquish evil?’

  ‘We talk to them,’ said Li.

  ‘We make contact?’

  ‘Even the devil’s been known to bargain. I don’t see any alternative. Johanson reckons they’re trying to keep us busy so we don’t have time to think. We’re not going to let that happen. We’re still in a position to act, so let’s find them and make contact. Then we’ll strike.’

  ‘You want to launch an offensive against deep-sea organisms?’ The secretary of Homeland Security shook his head. ‘Dear God.’

  ‘Hold on. Are we all in agreement that we should take this theory seriously?’ the director of the CIA asked. ‘We’re talking about it as though it were fact. Are we really prepared to believe that we share the planet with another intelligent species?’

  ‘Only one species was made in the image of God,’ the President said firmly, ‘and that was mankind. These creatures may be intelligent, but just how intelligent remains to be seen. And I very much doubt that they’ve got any intrinsic right to inhabit this planet like we have. There’s certainly no mention of them in the scriptures. But the fact that an alien life-form is to blame for all this chaos sounds logical to me.’

  ‘So, going back to my question,’ said the secretary of state, ‘what are we going to tell the world?’

  ‘It’s too early.’

  ‘People are going to ask questions.’

  ‘Then make up some answers. You’re a politician, aren’t you? If we come right out and tell them there’s another intelligent species at the bottom of the sea, we’re going to kill them with shock.’

  ‘Incidentally,’ said the CIA director, turning to Li, ‘how would you like us to refer to these deep-sea deviants?’

  Li smiled. ‘Johanson had a suggestion. Yrr.’

  ‘Yrr?’

  ‘He came up with it by accident. His fingers slipped on the keyboard. He says it’s as good a name as any, and I agree.’

  ‘OK, Jude.’ The President nodded. ‘We’ll see how this theory shapes up. We have to keep considering all the possibilities, all the options. And if it turns out that we’re fighting a battle against these aliens - yrr or whatever you want to call them - we’ll fight them and win. We’ll declare war on the yrr.’ He looked at the ot
hers. ‘This is an opportunity for us. A big opportunity. I want you to use it.’

  ‘With God’s blessing,’ said Li.

  ‘Amen,’ mumbled Vanderbilt.

  Weaver

  One of the benefits of staying at the Chateau under military occupation was that nothing was ever closed. None of the usual conventions of the catering trade applied. Li had made it clear that everybody, especially the scientists, would be working day and night, and a T-bone steak at four in the morning might be exactly what they needed.

  For the past thirty minutes Weaver had been ploughing up and down the pool. It was well past one in the morning. Now, wrapped in a soft towelling bathrobe, with bare feet and wet hair, she padded across the lobby on her way towards the elevators. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Leon Anawak sitting at the hotel bar, which struck her as an unlikely place to find him. Perched forlornly on a stool and eyeing an untouched glass of Coke, he was dipping into a bowl of peanuts, picking one up, then letting it drop.

  There’d been no sign of him since their conversation that morning. Maybe he didn’t want to be disturbed. A bustle of activity filled the lobby and the adjoining rooms, but the bar was virtually empty. Two men in dark suits were sitting in a corner, talking in hushed tones, while a woman in combats stared at a screen. The west-coast music in the background gave the scene an air of inconsequential ordinariness.

  Anawak looked unhappy.

  She was just thinking that it might be best to go back to her suite when she found herself walking towards him. Her damp feet left tracks on the parquet floor. ‘Hi.’

  Anawak turned, his eyes empty.

  She stopped. It was the easiest thing in the world to encroach on someone’s private space and earn yourself a reputation for interfering. She leaned against the bar and drew the bathrobe closer. There were two stools between them.

  ‘Hi,’ said Anawak. His eyes shifted. At last he seemed to see her.

  She smiled. ‘What…um, what are you doing?’ Stupid question. ‘You disappeared this morning.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, no, don’t apologise,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you. I just saw you sitting here and I thought—’

  Something was wrong. It would be wise to leave him to it.

  Anawak roused himself from his paralysis. He reached for his glass, picked it up and put it down again. His eyes moved to the stool beside him. ‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.

  ‘Are you sure I’m not disturbing you?’

  ‘No, really, it’s fine.’ He hesitated. ‘My name’s Leon - Leon Anawak.’

  ‘I’m Karen. Bailey’s on ice, please.’

  Anawak summoned the barman and ordered her drink. She took a step closer, but didn’t sit down. Her wet hair sent droplets of cold water trickling down her neck and between her breasts. She should drink up and leave, she thought. ‘So, how’re things?’ she asked, and sipped.

  Anawak’s brow furrowed. ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Not sure?’

  ‘No. My father died.’

  Shit. ‘What was wrong with him?’ she asked cautiously.

  ‘No idea.’

  ‘You mean the doctors don’t know yet?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m not even sure I want to know.’

  He fell silent for a while. Then he said, ‘I was in the woods this afternoon, walking. I was out there for hours, trying to…feel something. I thought, there has to be some kind of emotion that goes with a situation like this. But I just felt sorry for myself.’ He looked her in the eye. ‘Do you ever get that feeling, like wherever you are you want to be somewhere else? And then suddenly you realise that it isn’t you that wants to get away - the place you’re in is pushing you away, telling you you don’t belong there. But it won’t tell you where you do belong, so you have to keep running.’

  She ran a finger round the rim of her glass. ‘I guess you didn’t have a very good relationship with your father, then.’

  ‘I didn’t have a relationship with him at all.’

  ‘Really?’ Weaver frowned.

  Anawak shrugged. ‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘What do your parents do?’

  ‘They’re dead.’

  ‘Oh…I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK. You couldn’t have known. They died when I was ten. A diving accident off the coast of Australia. I was in the hotel when it happened. They got caught in a rip. They were experienced divers, but, well…you can never tell with the sea.’

  ‘Did anyone ever find them?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How did you cope?’

  ‘For a while it was pretty tough. I’d had an amazing childhood. My parents were teachers and loved the water. We went sailing in the Maldives, scuba-diving in the Red Sea, cave diving in the Yucatán. We even dived in Scotland and Iceland. Of course, they never went too deep when I was with them, but there was plenty for me to see. They only left me behind if the dive was going to be dangerous - and then, one day, they never came back.’ She smiled. ‘But, hey, I turned out OK in the end.’

  ‘True.’ He smiled back.

  Then he slid off his stool. ‘I should probably get some sleep. I’m flying out for the funeral tomorrow.’ He hesitated. ‘Good night…and thanks.’

  She sat there, looking at her half-drunk Bailey’s, remembering her parents and how the hotel staff had come to find her. She had to be brave, the manager had said.

  She swished the liquid in her glass. Anawak didn’t know just how tough it had been. How her grandmother had tried to look after the disturbed, fearful little girl, whose sorrow had vented itself in rage. At school her grades went downhill, and so did her behaviour. Then there was the bunking off class and bumming around on the streets, smoking her first joint, hanging out with punks, drinking herself into a stupor, and sleeping with anyone who was interested - which they always were. Nicking stuff, being expelled from school, the backstreet abortion, hard drugs, the young offenders’ institute. Six months in a home for problem kids. Then all the piercings, the shaved head, the scars. Her mind and her body had been a battleground.

  But the accident had done nothing to diminish her love for the sea. The water seemed to exercise a dark fascination, calling to her and summoning her to the depths. It beckoned to her so powerfully that one night she had hitched a lift to Brighton and swum away from the shore. Then, when the lights of the town were almost swallowed by the oily blackness of the moonlit water, she had allowed herself to sink beneath the surface.

  Drowning wasn’t easy.

  She’d floated in the dark waters of the Channel, holding her breath as her heartbeats thundered in her ears. But instead of sapping the life from her body, the sea was showing her: look, see how strong your heart is.

  She’d shot up to the surface and out of the nightmare that had begun when she was ten years old. A cutter was sailing nearby and picked her up. She was taken to hospital with severe hypothermia. There, she began to make plans for the future. After she’d been discharged, she stared at her body in the mirror for an hour, and decided she never wanted to look like that again. She removed the piercings, stopped shaving her head, tried to do ten press-ups and collapsed. After a week she could do twenty.

  She put all her strength into trying to win back what she had lost. They allowed her to return to school on the condition that she saw a therapist. She agreed. She showed them that she was disciplined and eager to learn, and read everything she could lay hands on, especially if it was about the environment and the oceans. She jogged, swam, boxed and climbed, trying to eradicate the last traces of the lost time, until there was no sign of the scrawny, hollow-eyed girl she’d once been. She finished school at nineteen, a year older than her classmates but with perfect grades and a body like a sculpture of an ancient Greek athlete. She began a degree in biology and sport.

  Karen Weaver was a new person.

  With an ancient longing.

  In order to better understand the work
ings of the world, she took a course in computing. The idea of programming computers to model complex changes intrigued her, and she persisted until she knew how to model oceanic and atmospheric change. Her first big project was a comprehensive report on ocean currents. It didn’t add anything to existing research, but it was an intelligent piece of work: a homage to two people she’d loved and lost. She set up her own media business deepbluesea, and wrote for Science and National Geographic. Popular science magazines gave her regular columns to fill, which attracted the attention of research institutes, whose scientists needed a voice to convey their ideas. She was invited along on expeditions. She dived to the Titanic in MIR, visited the hydrothermal vents in the depths of the Atlantic with Alvin, and took the Polarstern to visit the over-winterers in the Antarctic. She went everywhere, making the most of every opportunity, because since that night in the Channel she had never felt fear. She wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything.

  Except of being alone. Sometimes.

  Now she looked at herself in the mirror on the wall of the bar, wrapped in a bathrobe, looking a little lost.

  She knocked back the Bailey’s and made her way to bed.

  14 May

  Anawak

  His decision to make the trip hadn’t come easily, and even then there’d been no guarantee that Li would let him leave. As it happened, she’d practically forced him to go. ‘If you stay here, you’ll never forgive yourself. Family comes first in life. It’s the only thing you can count on. Make sure we can contact you, that’s all I ask.’

  Now, sitting in the plane, he wondered why Li was so eager to sing the praises of kinship. He couldn’t share her enthusiasm.

  The man sitting next to him, a climatologist from Massachusetts, began to snore. Anawak tilted back his seat and looked out of the window. He’d been alone with his thoughts for hours. From Vancouver he’d flown on one of Air Canada’s Boeings to Toronto Pearson airport, where a long line of planes was waiting for takeoff. A violent storm had descended over Toronto, bringing air traffic to a temporary halt. To Anawak it had seemed like an omen. Waiting anxiously in the departure lounge, he’d watched as the planes were hooked up one by one to concertinaed walkways. Finally, after a two-hour delay, his flight had left for Montréal.