He'd switched off the main lights, leaving just the desk lamps and computer screens to brighten the gloom. The chamber hummed softly, generating a barely perceptible blue glow. The layer of jelly lay motionless at the bottom. The organism looked dead, but Johanson knew better.

If the jelly was glowing, the yrr were alive.

Footsteps rang out on the ramp. Anawak poked his head round the door. Johanson looked up from his work. 'Leon, good to see you.'

Anawak pulled up a chair, and sat down on it back to front. He rested his arms on the top. 'It's three in the morning,' he said. 'What the hell are you doing?'

'Working. You?'

'Can't sleep.'

'I think we've earned ourselves a drink. A glass of Bordeaux?'

'Oh, urn…' Anawak looked embarrassed. 'Thanks for offering, but I don't touch alcohol.'

'Never?'

'Never.'

'That's funny.' Johanson frowned. 'I usually notice stuff like that. I guess we're all pretty distracted at the moment.'

'You could say that.' Anawak paused. 'How's it shaping up?'

'Fine. I solved your problem.' He said it almost casually.

'Problem?'

'The one you and Karen were working on. Memory via mutating DNA. Well, you were right. It's possible, and I've found out how.'

Anawak stared at him incredulously. 'I can't believe you're not jumping up and down.'

'I'd turn a few cartwheels if I had enough energy. But you're right: we should celebrate.'

'Well, aren't you going to tell me how it works?'

You remember those hypervariable segments? They're clusters. The genome is covered with clusters that code different proteins. They're… Does this mean anything to you?'

'You'll have to help me out a little.'

'Clusters are a sub-class of gene. They're genes that take care of a particular function, like producing certain substances or coding receptors. If a section of DNA contains a high concentration of genes that serve the same function, you get a cluster. The yrr-genome has masses of them. And this is where it gets interesting: the yrr-cells are repairing themselves, but the repair process doesn't occur globally across the whole genome. The enzymes don't scan the DNA from top to bottom for mistakes, they react to specific signals. They're a bit like trains. If the signal tells them to go, they start the repair mechanism. But if the signal says stop, they don't go any further because otherwise they'd run into-'

'The clusters.'

'Right. And the clusters are protected.'

'You mean the yrr are able to shield part of their genome to stop it being repaired?'

'Exactly. They've got repair inhibitors – biological bouncers, if you like – which protect the clusters from repair enzymes. So, in the course of the repairs, the core genetic information is preserved, while other sequences are free to mutate continuously. Impressive, eh? Each yrr is an ever-evolving brain.'

'But how do they communicate?'

'Like Sue said, from cell to cell. Via ligands and receptors. The ligand – the signal transmitted from the other cells – reaches a receptor and sets off a chemical cascade towards the nucleus. The genome then mutates and passes on the signal to the surrounding cells. It happens almost instantaneously. That pile of jelly is thinking at the speed of a superconductor.'

Anawak gave a low whistle. 'So it's a brand new biochemical set-up.'

'Or a very old one. It may be new to us, but it's probably been around for millions of years. Maybe as long as life itself. It's a different evolutionary system running parallel to our own.' Johanson gave a short laugh. 'And it's highly effective.'

Anawak rested his chin on his hands. 'So, what now?'

'Good question. I don't think I've ever felt so directionless. I've got all this information and I don't know what to do with it. Right now it just confirms our fears – we've got almost nothing in common with the yrr.' He stretched and yawned. 'Who knows whether Crowe's attempts at communication will pay off? Seems to me that they're happy to chat to us while merrily plotting our doom. Maybe they don't see that as a contradiction. Either way, it's not my idea of conversation.'

'We've got no choice. We have to find a way of making ourselves understood.' Anawak sucked in his cheeks. 'And while we're on the subject – do you think we're all pulling together?'

Johanson stiffened. 'Why do you ask?'

'Well…' Anawak frowned. 'OK, don't be mad at her, but Karen told me what you saw – or what you thought you saw – the night of your mysterious accident.'

Johanson gave him a hard look. 'And what does she think?'

'That you did see Rubin.'

'I thought so. And you?'

'I don't know.' Anawak shrugged. You're Norwegian. You guys believe in trolls.'

Johanson sighed. 'If it hadn't been for Sue, none of this would ever have come back to me,' he said. 'She jogged my memory. That night when we were sitting on the hangar deck, I thought I saw Rubin, even though he was supposed to be in bed with a migraine. Just like he's supposed to have a migraine now. Ever since then, bits and pieces have been coming back to me. I'm starting to remember things – things I can't have made up. Sometimes it feels as though I'm on the verge of seeing everything, and then… I'm standing in front of an open door, looking into the light. I step inside – and it all goes black.'

'What makes you think you didn't dream it?'

'Sue.'

'But she didn't see anything.'

'And Li.'

'Why Li?'

'We were chatting at the party and she was a bit too concerned about the state of my memory. I got the feeling she was trying to gauge how much I knew.' Johanson looked at Anawak. 'You wanted my opinion. Well, I don't think we're pulling together. I never have done, not even in Whistler. There's always been something funny about Li, but now there's Rubin and his migraines too. I don't know what to make of it, but something tells me it doesn't add up.'

'Male intuition…' Anawak grinned nervously. 'So, what does Li want from us?'

Johanson glanced at the ceiling. 'You'd have to ask her.'

CONTROL ROOM

At that moment Johanson was looking straight into Vanderbilt's eyes through one of the hidden cameras, although he didn't know it. The CIA agent had taken over from Li at the desk. He heard Johanson say, 'You'd have to ask her.'

'Smart bastard,' Vanderbilt murmured. Li was in her cabin. He called her on a secure line.

She appeared on the screen.

'I told you those drugs were a risk,' said Vanderbilt. 'Johanson's recovering his memory.'

'So what?'

'Aren't you worried?'

Li gave a thin smile. 'Rubin's been working very hard. He was here just now.'

'And?'

'It's brilliant!' There was a glint in her eyes. 'I know we're not particularly fond of the shit, but I have to say he's excelled himself.'

'Has he trialled the stuff.'

'On a small scale. But the scale doesn't matter: it works. In a few hours I'm going to call the President. Then I'll take Rubin for a dive.'

'You want to do it in person?' exclaimed Vanderbilt.

'Well, there's no way we're going to fit inside a boat like that,' said Li, and hung up.

WELL DECK

The electrical systems filled the Independence's empty hangars and decks with an eerie buzz, causing the bulkheads to quiver imperceptibly. They could be heard in the hospital and the deserted officers' mess, and anyone pressing their fingertips to the lockers in the troop-berthing area could feel their faint vibration.

They even penetrated into the bowels of the vessel, where Greywolf was lying near the edge of the embankment, staring at the steel girders on the ceiling. He felt overwhelmed with grief and the conviction that he had done everything wrong. He hadn't even been able to save Licia. He'd tried to protect her and failed.