"Christ! What the bloody hell happened?!"

Commander David Jermaine of the Temeraire, voice rang through the intercom of his office. The loud red lights were blindingly alarming, as the tall British man exited his Captain's quarters and pushed past his fleet members. The submarine was echoing with a loud absentminded beep every one second.

"‘APTAIN!" A man called out to the man, his accent thick with a hint of Irish as he spoke, this was a man who everyone called Wally—part of the maintenance sector, he wore a dirty, oil stained glove as he narrows his eyes. "‘E bloody hell's going on?!" The man demanded to know.

Jermaine looked at the man as if he was crazy, and another voice rang through the intercom, it was one of the replacement recruits, Jackson.

"I just got word, West Port's fuckin' flooding!"

Jermaine and Wally shot each other the same look... panicked, how? The sub wasn't near anything that was sharp—they were in the middle of the damn ocean.

Wally didn't waste time and started towards the West Port of the yelling at a few of his own crewmates to follow him.

Jermaine hurried to the main control room, his jaw muscles clicked as he was fuming, the usually civilized Jermaine was blowing a fuse.

"I need someone to radio HQ! Now! Tell 'em we need assistance and repairs!" Jermaine blurted out and a man no older than twenty; Porter nodded and quickly hurried to the emergency radio to fullfil the commands he was given.

"Captain, we're gonna lose power if that leak ain't fixed!" That was Carter, the man who was the trying to sooth one of the younger men who were claustrophobic, Billy. The young man looked pale, cowering in the corner, chest heavy with pants, his blue eyes are wide, pupils dilated.

"Dammit!" Jermaine grunted then his submarine pilot called out.

"Captain! Request to surface!" The man called out.

"Request Granted!"

And with that a jolt of the submarine's entire body cased a few who weren't aware to fall and stumble.

The pilot started counting the sub's feet level as he guided the transportation upwards.

"Feet level: 750! Feet level: 630! Feet level: 500!—"

Jermaine felt his hands clenched as he studied the monitor, they're was nothing in the area but them...so what caused that hole in the West Port?

The red lights continued, the pressure rose, causing the temperature to shift, from cool to hot—a pipe must've broke—shit...