The Lure

19 The Wheels of Poseidon

Around 6 p.m., Svetlana walked into the library. She could hardly control the excitement in her voice. ‘We think it may be human.’

Freya looked up in surprise. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It’s not flatworm or fruit-fly, and it’s not ape. So far we can’t tell any difference from human DNA. But there’s something odd. I don’t know if there’s an error in Tom’s computer code — where is he?’

Petrie hailed her from the gallery.

‘Tom,’ Svetlana called up, ‘if your code is okay, there’s something extra. Vash is finding dot patterns that stand outside the mainstream. Some bits of the helix may be labelled.’

‘Surely they’re just stray particles?’

‘Vash thinks not. Sometimes the patterns stand near particular genes and the same patterns are found next to other pictures, like maybe molecules. He thinks they’re markers — he calls them flags. He reckons there’s a breakthrough waiting to happen, and he says you need to get back to it right away.’

‘Tell him I’m studying for the priesthood. He’ll have to do his own decoding.’

‘And I’m busy in the kitchen,’ Svetlana told him.

‘Making more pyzy?’

‘Doing overtime as a femme fatale. Hanning and I are cooking. And Charlie has a plan. He wants to talk to you all in the bar, now.’

Shtyrkov was standing with his nose pressed up against the steel mesh grill which protected the bar. At first Petrie thought the Russian was wondering how to get at the dazzling array of bottles; but then he saw the little reflections of chandelier in the polished glasses.

‘Vodka withdrawal symptoms?’ Gibson asked the Russian. Gibson himself, Petrie noted, was showing no sign of mental abnormality outside the envelope of a stressed-out scientist.

Shtyrkov turned and sat heavily in a chair, and Petrie and Freya sat on either side of him.

Gibson remained standing, a general briefing his troops. He looked at his watch pretentiously. ‘For those of you who’ve lost track it’s now six o’clock, Friday evening. Here’s the schedule. Tomorrow, Saturday, is our last full day on site. We’re out of here at noon on Sunday. We drive straight to Bratislava: I’ve booked us all on a six o’clock flight to London. At nine a.m. Monday we hold a press conference in Burlington House. Vashislav and Svetlana then fly to Moscow. After that, events will sweep us along.’

‘What about Hanning?’ Petrie asked.

‘I was coming to that. I don’t trust him. He knows we’ll be going for a public announcement but I want him told it will now take place next Wednesday. We just vanish on Sunday at noon.’

They had automatically adopted a conspiratorial tone, as if Hanning could hear through castle walls from the floor below. ‘Wisdom comes with age, Charlee. Not always, and in your case probably not at all, but meantime you would be wise to listen to Papa. And what I say is this. Don’t wait. Put the news out on the internet tonight — all the bulletin boards we can think of. And send a message signed by us all to the UN Secretary General. It will be midday in New York.’

‘No, Vash, we need the press conference first. There’ll be questions and we must be on the spot to answer them.’

‘You’re taking a grave risk, Charlee.’ Petrie had never seen Shtyrkov more serious; he wondered what was lying at the back of the Russian’s mind.

Gibson said, ‘Come on, Vash, this thing’s unstoppable.’

‘Come through, children. Let us hear what Tom and Freya have found. Bring your coffees if you wish.’ Shtyrkov was standing at the refectory door like a teacher summoning his pupils. There was a rattle of chairs.

Petrie had found a screen, an overhead projector and a heap of transparencies in a cupboard in the administrator’s office, and had heaved them up to the common room. There was a large Bible next to the projector. The scientists spread themselves around armchairs, and Svetlana killed the lights.

Freya sat on the edge of a desk, holding a scribbled transparency. The projector threw her face into harsh contrast. ‘They’ve been signalling us for centuries.’

Gibson gave a loud, sceptical snort.

‘Most of this has come from a journal called the Marine Observer. Look at this.’ She threw up the first transparency:

September 6th, 1977. The merchant vessel Wild Curlew, in the north-west Indian Ocean, approached what seemed at first to be a white sea fog. On entering the region it was found that the sea itself was glowing with a milky light. This light seemed also to hover above the surface of the water. It was so strong that it illuminated the clouds overhead.

Marine Observer, vol. 48, p.118, 1977

‘It’s what you saw in your lake. There are lots of reports like that.’ She thumbed through some papers: ‘… like sailing over a field of snow … gliding over the clouds … an intense white glow not unlike viewing the negative of a photograph…’

Gibson was shaking his head. ‘Come off it, Freya!’

‘I was in Micronesia once,’ Hanning said. ‘We went swimming in the dark, which maybe wasn’t a good idea in those waters. But I remember it well. The water lit up as we swam. We left a luminous trail. It was a wonderful experience.’

‘Exactly,’ Gibson said. ‘Simple bioluminescence. Plankton firing up.’

‘It’s not plankton.’ A stubborn tone was creeping into Freya’s voice. ‘This is from the Captain’s log, on board the merchantman Ebani. He’s in the North Atlantic at the time.’ She threw up the transparency:

March 18th, 1977. Spurious echoes have been appearing on the screen all day, like the echoes from small groups of fishing boats. Their behaviour is very strange. The echoes would close to within five nautical miles of us and then disappear. None of us has ever come across this before. Disappeared late afternoon.

2200. The echoes have returned. They came back, closed to within 5.5 n.m., and then spread out around the ship in a circle. The entire sea has taken on a milky appearance and there is a fishy smell. We are all quite unnerved by this.

2400. After 45 minutes, the milky sea disappeared, and the radar returned to normal.

Petrie said, ‘Plankton can’t generate spurious echoes in a ship’s radar.’

Gibson responded irritably. ‘I’m not persuaded, Tom. The dodgy radar could have been a coincidence.’

Shtyrkov snorted from a dark corner of the room. ‘Coincidence, the last refuge of the disappointed scientist.’

Freya said, ‘There’s more. Are you ready for this? August the fourth, 1977. In the Indian Ocean—’

Svetlana interrupted: ‘Five months after the Ebani report.’

Freya read aloud from the big screen:

The SS British Renown sailed into a large area of milky sea, which was glowing from within. So great was the intensity of this light that the deck appeared to be just a dark shadow. During the display, the humidity seemed to increase and’ — Freya ran her hand along the text — ‘the radio operator reported a decreased signal strength at medium and high frequencies.

‘Something is traversing the atmosphere, disturbing it electrically as it passes, and lighting up the ocean.’

‘Charlee probably thinks it’s another coincidence,’ Shtyrkov called over from his corner. ‘Right, Charlee?’

‘The hell with you, Vash.’

‘Throw up the Wild Curlew again,’ Svetlana asked. Freya did so. Svetlana said, ‘They’re saying the phosphorescence was above the surface of the water.’

Freya nodded. ‘That’s a common feature in these reports.’

‘Maybe Charlie’s plankton have wings.’

Freya said, ‘More likely there are enough water molecules just above the waves to glow when the particles pass through.’

Gibson said, ‘Rubbish.’

Freya said, ‘Explain this one, Charlie. This is from someone on board a ship in the Java Sea on May the twenty-ninth 1955. Ten past two in the morning.’

My first impression was that the ship was being attacked on all sides from different directions by pulsing light-bands, about 2 metres wide and 2 apart and moving at speed. The most intense activity was observed on the starboard side of the ship where the phenomenon stretched as far as the horizon. It was just a mass of high-speed interacting bands of light.

About this time, the ship passed a localised revolving system, distance off about 150 metres. My impression was that of a catherine wheel revolving and casting out waves in an angular motion. How many spokes it had I’m not sure owing to the speed of the pulsations. The system rotated in a clockwise direction wheeling itself along the ship’s track.

‘Maybe the plankton were disturbed by fish moving in tight circles,’ Gibson suggested. There was a shriek of laughter from Shtyrkov’s dark corner.

Freya picked up another transparency. ‘What were the fish doing here, Charlie?’

October 13, 1996, Arabian Gulf. The tanker Arabiyah. Expanding phosphorescent rings were observed emanating from a single point. The rings were equally spaced and expanded outwards for about 500 metres before disappearing. Rings with spoke systems also formed, rotating clockwise. The observers had the distinct impression that the rings were above the sea surface.

‘You’ll find this report in the Marine Observer volume 67, page 192, 1997.’

‘Freya, are you serious?’ Gibson asked. ‘Do you really expect me to believe these are ET signals?’

Freya gave Gibson the sweet smile which, Petrie was beginning to learn, preceded the verbal equivalent of a right hook.

‘Okay, Charlie, I’d like to hear your explanation of this report. It happened on April the twenty-ninth, 1982, in the China Sea.’ She threw up the transparency and read the words aloud.

The merchant vessel Siam encountered parallel phosphorescent bands rushing towards it at about 40 miles an hour. The bands were 50–100 cm above the surface of the sea. The bands then changed into two rotating wheels. The spokes stretched to the horizon. Then a third wheel formed. Then there was nothing for about 20 minutes and then the whole thing restarted with four systems of parallel bands which soon metamorphosed into four rotating wheels. Next, circular, flashing brilliant blue-white light appeared all around the ship out to about 150 metres. This system of patches flashed at 114 times per minute. Water samples revealed no luminous organisms.

The sea was calm, visibility excellent, but atmospheric electrical activity could be seen all around.

‘You’ll find that in the Marine Observer again. Volume 53, page 85, 1983,’ she said. ‘Now look at this. This is from a review paper by a couple of marine biologists. The reference is Herring and Watson, Marine Observer, volume 63, page 22, 1993.’ There was a slightly triumphant tone as she read the text on the screen.

Most bioluminescent organisms flash briefly and cannot generate the strong steady glow of the milky sea. Marine bacteria glow steadily but unrealistic concentrations of bacteria would be needed to generate the observed light, and in any case samples retrieved from the affected waters show no such bacteria.

She turned. ‘There’s no known explanation for the glowing seas. It’s an acknowledged mystery.’

‘Put that in your pipe, Charlie,’ Petrie said. ‘And anyway, how could bioluminescence affect radio and radar? Given what you saw in the Tatras, what else can these patterns be but repeated probings of the Earth?’

Gibson grunted, an unwilling mule. ‘How far back do these marine reports go?’

Freya said, ‘I have them back to June 1854. South of Java, a Captain Kingman of the American clipper Shooting Star reported—’

‘Okay. There were no subnuclear facilities to target in 1854. I guess that weakens the case for the F star, Freya and Tom.’

The relief was almost palpable. Freya mock-curtsied. ‘A gracious acknowledgement, Charlie.’

‘They’re probing, but they don’t know we’re here,’ Petrie said. ‘Yet.’

Gibson nodded. ‘But I still don’t buy the Whirlpool. That leaves us guessing: where did the signal come from? What do I tell the media? That the signal came from empty space?’

‘Not just the media, Charlie. Your scientific colleagues, your government and the United Nations,’ Svetlana chided him.

Petrie said, ‘I think they’ve been probing for thousands of years. Minimum.’

‘Do you have evidence for that, Tom, or are you off on a flight of fancy?’

Petrie walked to the projector; the machine reflected brightly in his round spectacle lenses. Freya shared Shtyrkov’s couch at the back of the room. Petrie opened the big Bible and cleared his throat. Gibson said, ‘My God,’ and Petrie started to read.

Now it came to pass in the thirtieth year, in the fourth month, in the fifth day of the month, as I was among the captives by the river of Chebar, that the heavens were opened, and I saw visions of God.

And I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire infolding itself, and a brightness was about it.

And out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance; they had the likeness of a man.

And every one had four faces, and every one had four wings.

Their wings were joined to one another; they turned not when they went; they went every one straight forward.

As for the likeness of the living creatures, their appearance was like burning coals of fire, and like the appearance of lamps: it went up and down among the living creatures; and the fire was bright, and out of the fire went forth lightning.

And the living creatures ran and returned as the appearance of a flash of lightning.

As for their rings, they were so high that they were dreadful; and their rings were full of eyes round about them four.

And when the living creatures went, the wheels went by them; and when the living creatures were lifted up from the earth, the wheels were lifted up: for the spirit of the living creature was in the wheels.

Then I looked, and, behold, in the firmament that was above the head of the cherubim there appeared over them as it were a sapphire stone, as the appearance of the likeness of a throne.

And when I looked, behold the four wheels by the cherubim, one wheel by one cherub, and another wheel by another cherub: and the appearance of the wheels was as the colour of a beryl stone.

And as for their appearances, they four had one likeness, as if a wheel had been in the midst of a wheel.

And their whole body, and their backs, and the wheels, were full of eyes round about, even the wheels that they four had.

This is the living creature that I saw under the God of Israel by the river of Chebar.

Petrie couldn’t resist finishing with a dramatic flourish. ‘Ezekiel’s chariot. Four wheels, a moving pattern, in the sky over two thousand years ago.’ He settled into a leather armchair. ‘We’ve been targeted for thousands of years, long before we had the technology to understand the signals. It’s possible they don’t even know we’re here.’

Svetlana switched on the lights.

There was a long silence as the scientists took this on board. Vashislav finally broke it. ‘Why? Why should they do this? Indeed, why would civilisations millions of years old want to contact us at all? We are mice! Insects! Bacteria!’

‘I’ve been wondering too,’ said Svetlana. ‘What’s their motivation? And who are they?’

‘And where are they?’ Gibson chipped in impatiently. ‘What do I tell the media on Monday?’

‘Tom has a theory,’ said Freya.

Attention swivelled to Petrie. Gibson leaned forward, his eyes alert.

Freya added, ‘But he’s not going to tell us.’

There was a chorus of dismay. Hanning snorted. Svetlana raised her hands to her cheeks. Freya grinned impishly. Shtyrkov sat bolt upright and rattled out something in Russian.

‘Spit it out, Petrie!’ Gibson ordered.

Petrie held up his hands in a defensive gesture. ‘I need to think about it.’

Shtyrkov slapped his hand on a table. ‘What? Are you a scientist or not? Open discussion, Tom!’

‘Let me sleep on it. It’s too crazy for words.’