The rhythmic rocking of the boat lulled you into a deep sleep, but a jarring voice over the speaker shattered the tranquility. "Attention all personnel, Report to C.I.C. immediately!" The order echoed through the cramped quarters, jolting you awake.

Marcus Fenix, his face etched with concern, stood outside your door, his knuckles rapping impatiently. "Hey. C.I.C., now," he barked, urgency laced in his voice. You scrambled out of the bunk bed, the rough metal grating against your skin. Gearing up, you followed Marcus through the labyrinthine lower deck, the metallic clang of your armor echoing through the confined space.

You entered Dom's room, finding him mid-sentence. "You heard the man, Dom. Armor up."

Dom, ever the pragmatist, frowned. "I've got crops to take care of, Marcus. We don't grow if we don't eat it, remember?"

Marcus sighed, a mixture of exasperation and understanding coloring his features. "I think the radishes can cope without you for a while."

Dom, defeated, slumped his shoulders. "Alright, alright. Let's get this over with."

The urgency of the situation was palpable. The threat, whatever it was, demanded their immediate attention. Dom, despite his initial reluctance, understood the gravity of the situation. The fate of their people, their very survival, might depend on their swift response.