“Where?”

“Behind the port-side plating, forty inches from the deck, just past the auxiliary junction box,” I said.

“It’s the emergency auxiliary bypass valve.”

“He’s blocking the access hatch,” Hayes noted.

“I can bypass the primary hydraulics if you can get to that valve,” I said.

“You need to turn the spindle three full rotations clockwise.”

Miller took a step toward us, the water splashing around his boots.

“Stay back,” Miller warned, raising the wrench.

Hayes didn’t hesitate.

He lunged forward through the dark, icy water, his boots kicking up heavy sprays.

Miller swung the wrench down with a desperate, clumsy force.

Hayes caught Miller’s wrist mid-air, the impact echoing off the metal walls.

I scrambled past them, my hands scraping against the freezing wet steel of the port bulkhead.

My fingers searched the metal plating, feeling for the recessed rivets of the utility hatch.

The water was numbing my hands, stealing my coordination.

“Which panel, Sarah?” Hayes grunted.

He was wrestling Miller against the conduit racks, using his weight to pin the officer’s arms.

“The one with the yellow stenciling,” I called out, my fingers finally catching the edge of the latch.