Free The Swarm by Frank Schätzing Page B

bodies, then the writhing tubes were too numerous to count. Pink flesh and white bristles curled under and over each other.
    There was a sound of disgust from the men at the front. Conditioning, thought Johanson. Most humans disliked crawling, wriggling, sliding creatures, even though they were everywhere. He pictured the hordes of bugs swarming over his skin, and the billions of bacteria in his belly.
    But, despite himself, Johanson was unsettled by the worms. The pictures from the Mexican Gulf had shown similarly large colonies, but with smaller worms sitting calmly in their holes. These worms never stopped slithering over the ice, a vast heaving mass that obliterated the surface.
    â€˜Let’s zigzag round,’ said Lund.
    The ROV cut through the water in a sweeping slalom movement, the worms ever-present.
    Suddenly the ground fell away. The pilot steered the robot to the edge of the plateau. Even with the combined power of eight strong floodlights, visibility was limited to just a few metres, but it was easy to imagine that the worms covered the length of the slope. To Johanson they seemed even bigger than the specimens Lund had brought into the lab.
    The screens went dark. Victor had launched itself over the edge. There was a hundred-metre vertical drop to the bottom. The robot raced on at full speed.
    â€˜Turn,’ said Lund. ‘Let’s take a look at the wall.’
    Particles danced in the beam of the floodlights. Then something big and bright billowed into the frame, filling it for an instant, then retreating at lightning speed.
    â€˜What was that?’ Lund called.
    â€˜Turn back!’
    The ROV retraced its steps.
    â€˜It’s gone.’
    â€˜Circle!’
    Victor stopped and started to spin, but there was nothing to see, apart from impenetrable darkness and showers of plankton glittering in the light.
    â€˜There was something out there,’ said the co-ordinator. ‘A fish maybe.’
    â€˜Bloody big one,’ growled the pilot.
    Lund turned to Johanson, who shook his head. ‘No idea.’
    â€˜OK. Let’s go a bit deeper.’
    The ROV headed towards the slope. A few seconds later a steep wall of seabed loomed into view. A few raised areas of sediment were visible, but the rest was covered with the now-familiar pink masses.
    â€˜They’re everywhere,’ said Lund.
    Johanson joined her. ‘Have you got a chart of the hydrate deposits here?’
    â€˜The area is full of methane - hydrates, pockets in the rock, gas seeping through the seabed…’
    â€˜I mean the ice on top.’
    Lund typed something. A map of the seabed appeared on her screen. ‘See the light patches? Those are the deposits.’
    â€˜Can you point out Victor’s current position?’
    â€˜About here.’ She indicated an area of the map covered with light patches.
    â€˜OK. Steer it this way, along and then up.’
    The floodlights found a section of seabed devoid of worms. After a while the ground sloped upwards and then the steep wall appeared.
    â€˜Take us higher,’ said Lund. ‘Nice and slowly.’
    Within a few moments they were back to the same picture as before. Pink tubular bodies with white bristles.
    â€˜Just as you’d expect,’ muttered Johanson. ‘Assuming your map is right, this is the site of the main belt of hydrates. The bacteria will be grazing the methane here…and being gobbled by the worms.’
    â€˜How about the numbers? Would you have expected to see millions?’
    â€˜No.’
    Lund leaned back in her chair. ‘All right,’ she said, to the man controlling the articulated arm. ‘Let’s set Victor down for a moment. We’ll pick up a batch of worms and take a look at the area.’
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    It was gone ten when Johanson heard a knock at his door. Lund came in and flopped into the little armchair, which, together with a tiny table, was the only comfort the cabin offered.
    â€˜My