"Biometric analysis of the container is complete, Captain. The outer surface doesn't appear to be compromised," Hitchcock informed him, circling the offending canister with the HR Probe.

Ortiz confirmed her analysis. "WSKR particle scan also complete, Sir. No leakage detected."

"Good," Bridger commented. "Mr O'Neill, please give Lieutenant Krieg the all clear."

"Aye, Sir," O'Neill nodded and radioed through to the Sea Crab that Krieg was waiting in. "Lieutenant, you have a green light for launch."

"Roger that, launching in five, four, three…"

On the bridge, Ortiz positioned Mother to follow the Sea Crab as it made its' way out towards the dumped canister. Containing potentially deadly chemicals, it needed to be secured and taken back onboard the seaQuest to prevent it causing a hazard to local sea life.

While the vessels from the North Sea Confederation, under the command of Captain William Ohara, chased down the illegal dumpers, it was seaQuest's job to secure the canister and clean up any contamination.

"This is Sea Crab three, I'm in position. Preparing to extend grappling arm," Krieg informed them. "Canister is locked and secured, returning to base."

"Doctor Westphalen," Ford called across the intercom. "Lieutenant Krieg has secured the canister and will be with you shortly."

"Thank you, Commander," she replied, standing ready with her team to oversee the isolation of the hazardous materials.

"Keep a watch on his progress, Commander," Bridger told Hitchcock.

"Aye, Sir," she nodded and moved the Probe to travel parallel with the Sea Crab.

"Captain!" O'Neill suddenly barked. "I'm receiving a distress call, very weak, breaking up. It's difficult to make out, but it sounds like a vessel in distress, caught up in the storm."

"Put it on speaker," Bridger ordered.

The crew listened as they tried to make out the message.

"trouble…heavy seas…mayday…" were the only distinguishable words.

"Can't we get it any clearer than that?" Ford asked.

"Captain," Ortiz interrupted. "Lieutenant Krieg is onboard."

"As is the Probe, Captain," Hitchcock added.

"Understood, thank you. Mr O'Neill?"

"This is the best I can do, Captain," he said, annoyed, and played the message across for them, each time different words becoming clear.

"engine failure…three miles…coastline…heavy seas…mayday!…seaQuest…this is the Delilah!"

On hearing the name of the boat, every figure on the bridge froze, realising it was their people in danger. Miguel's mind spun and his heart hammered as he waited with everyone else to see whether any more information would come across, but the same words were just repeated over.

"Commander, get me Captain Ohara!" Bridger ordered.

"Aye, Sir. Mr O'Neill?" Ford shouted.

"I've got him, Sir," O'Neill replied.

"Captain Bridger. We're still in pursuit of the second vessel. How's your progress?" Ohara asked.

"The canister is secured, no leakage," he informed him.

"Good work."

"Captain, we've just received a mayday from a vessel that some of my crew is working on. Without sounding too overly dramatic, it sounds as if they require immediate assistance."

"I see. Are you suggesting we abandon the exercise?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. With your assistance we could get these people to safety in half the time."

There was a pause as Ohara considered his decision. "Agreed. I'll contact the other vessels. Send us your course details and we'll follow on after you. Ohara out."

Bridger and Ford both looked at each other with relief and Bridger nodded in confirmation.

"Helm, turn us around and take us to the Delilah's last known co-ordinates. Doctor Westphalen," he called to her through the intercom. "The exercise is scrapped, we've just received a mayday from the Delilah and we're heading in her direction. I suggest you prepare med-bay for possible casualties."

"Understood," she replied, sharply.

Nathan could almost see her, leaping into action and directing her staff to their relevant positions and roles. "Keep sharp people," he told the crew on the bridge. "Our exercise just became a rescue mission."

***

It took them an excruciating length of time to reach the Delilah's last known position. Being buffeted by the strong currents slowed their progress considerably. The vessels on the surface were having similar problems, and had informed them that the storm had kicked up quite a swell.

However, having now reached the location, the Delilah was no-where to be seen, or detected.

The mayday signal had mentioned 'three miles', so Bridger positioned the seaQuest as close inshore as possible and sent out four WSKRS to sweep the surrounding waters.

Ortiz was single-mindedly focused on the job – receiving information from four satellites instead of the usual three, and having to place his concern for his friends safety to the back of his mind, as difficult as that was.

With such a broad search plain, it didn't take long for one of the WSKRS to pick something up. He switched all his screens to display what Junior was detecting. It was the signal beacon from the Delilah, but something about it didn't sound right, and when he realised what it was, his throat closed over in horror, and his heart pumped even harder.

"Captain," he called out, subdued. "Junior picked up the Delilah's signal beacon. It's sub-surface," he told them, receiving horrified looks in return.

"Get me a WSKR view!" Bridger barked.

On the central screen, Junior's view panned out to reveal the storm battered hulk of the Delilah lying submerged on the shallow rocks not far offshore.

Ortiz took Junior in closer, scanning the decks for signs of anything that would tell them what had happened, and hoping they wouldn't find their friends…not yet anyway.

As Junior moved round to the port side of the vessel, they all breathed a tentative sigh of relief as they saw that the rib was missing – perhaps there was a chance they'd offloaded before she went down.

"Eyes open, everyone!" Bridger shouted. "Keep the WSKRS searching, Mr Ortiz. We're not giving up until we find them."

He nodded, and tried to turn his mind back to finding them. It had been eight hours since they'd left to go on exercise – a long time to be out on the sea in trouble, and as time passed, he found his thoughts distracting him more. Early morning out on the North Sea in the middle of a storm – the temperature would be near freezing. At least when Ford and the others had been stranded in 'the triangle', they'd known they weren't in too much peril, and they'd be found eventually. At least the water had been warm. This time though…

He selected an internal comms channel and spoke through his headset to the communications station, where Tim was working.

"Hey," he spoke quietly. "You getting anything?"

"Nothing," Tim replied, dismally.

Miguel sighed. "I can't stop thinking about what could happen to them."

"Don't. Do what you told me when we were looking for those French kids. Concentrate on finding them." He waited for a reply, but didn't get one. "Miguel, she'll be fine," Tim assured him.

"I'm not just thinking about her. Bill's an old man and they're out in the cold. And it's Lucas!" Miguel snapped.

"I know, but she'll be fine."

But as more time went by, that thought became harder to believe. The North Sea Confed vessels on the surface were struggling in the conditions. It was pitch black and the sea was boiling, so they eventually had to pull back and let the seaQuest take over.

Thankfully, just as hopes were reaching a low, Tim began picking something up through the relentless noise of the waves above them. A sequence of beeps, short and long. Tim smiled as he realised it was the same sound he'd heard when they'd found Ford. Lucas had obviously managed to rig another camera to send out a signal. One long, two short. One short. One short, one long, two short. Two short. One short, one long, two short. One short, one long. Four short.

"Delilah," Bridger grinned in relief, and everyone on the bridge erupted into a fury of shouts and claps upon realising they were all right. But the excitement was short-lived as the sound abruptly stopped and didn't continue.

"Commander, get up to the surface, and take Krieg with you!" Bridger ordered.

"Aye, Sir," Ford nodded and ran from the bridge towards the launch bay.

Bridger informed Captain Ohara of the rib's location and the surface vessels moved in to assist. Still, it took what felt like an age for any news to reach them.

As Ford radioed in, everyone fell silent.

"Captain, we've got our people onboard. The NSC cruiser York Minster is taking the other two back to Reykjavik."

"How are they?"

Bridger could hear Ford sigh in apprehension. "We'll need Doctor Westphalen standing by – Doctor Briers isn't doing so well."

"What about Lucas and Miss Allen?"

"They're not great either."

"Understood, Commander. We'll take care of it."

Miguel and Tim exchanged a glance, as the tension aboard stepped up another notch.

***

By the time the launch had docked, an anxious crowd had gathered in the launch bay – all eager to see how Lucas and the others were doing.

Miguel and Tim, filled with concern, hadn't hesitated in following Katie and the Captain as they headed off the bridge, and they stood, breathlessly watching as the docking bay doors swung open, and Jonathan appeared, helped by another sailor, supporting a listless Doctor Briers.

They carried him down the stairs towards a waiting stretcher, before Jonathan bounded back up to the launch.

"That's it, easy, easy. Bill? Open your eyes for me, Bill," Kristin spoke sternly as she reached down and pinched his arms. "No response to stimuli. Looks like he's in stage-three. Get him to med-bay and start him on heated saline," she ordered.

Miguel and Katie watched as Bill was wheeled past them, his skin an alarming shade of blue. They snapped their heads back to the stairs, where Jonathan had reappeared, this time carrying Beth's limp body in his arms – barely conscious, her eyes unfocused.

"Oh my God," Miguel exclaimed and thrust through the throng of people to crouch by her side, as she too, was lain on a stretcher and examined by Kristin. He tentatively reached out to take her hand and flinched as he felt how cold she was. "She's freezing," he said, worried.

"That's a good sign, believe me," Kristin told him.

Joshua, who was assisting to co-ordinate the medical team, appeared beside them, concern also plain on his face, which surprised both Kristin and Miguel, considering he hadn't shown much interest in Beth since finding out about her addiction. The accident appeared to be opening everyone's eyes to what was important.

"How is she?" he asked.

Bordering on stage-three – go with her to med-bay," Kristin barked.

"I'm going with you," Miguel announced, leaving no one in any doubt that he wouldn't be stopped, so Kristin simply nodded.

She quickly turned her attention to Lucas, who was being helped down the stairs by Ben. He appeared to be far more lucid – able to move his legs, and was more aware of his surroundings.

"Captain?" he asked, as he lay on a stretcher and Nathan stood above him.

"Don't talk, Lucas, save your energy," Kristin told him, sternly.

"Stay strong, kiddo!" Nathan shouted after him as he, too, was wheeled away. Before Kristin could hurry after them, he caught her by the arm. "Tell it to me straight."

Kristin sighed, reluctant to admit the truth to herself, let alone to Nathan. "They're all hypothermic – Lucas is in stage two, Beth is stage two, bordering on three, and Bill is stage three. Stage two is more easily reversed, so Lucas should be alright. But if we don't work quickly, we could lose the other two," she said sharply, before turning away from him, unable to face the fear she had brought to his eyes.