"Fuck." Martin Conrad bursts from his quarters.  Nomally level-headed, a ship going down would be enough to unnerve anyone.  His hands shake, and he takes a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket - a nervous only habit - only to find they are soaked.<br/>(Bad for me anyway.) He thinks, splashing through the halls soaked to the shins.  Peering through a porthole, he becomes thoroughly confounded to find that in fact, the ship seems to have ended up in a cavern.  From here, he has no idea how much of the ship is a wreck nor how badly; that's not first on his list, however.<br/>"One..." He mutters, pacing through the halls.  "Get topside.  Find others.  Two, acquire floatation devices.  Three... three, umm... radio, radio... need a radio, then... find any remaining lifeboats... five?" Too early to think about weapons?  This was a luxury liner anyway, but even a biologist such as himself is unsure at the moment whether any of the marine life here could be dangerous.  "Topside, lifevest, communication, boat." He tells himself over, scrambling up a flight of steps.  (Better stay indoors, however, until I'm sure it's all clear out there...) He stops as the ship's hulls creak slightly.  "Or if this fancy tincan starts to sink again..." He breathes.