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[i]Aug 21, 1914[/i]

The massive ship rocked steadily on the choppy water. Waves sprayed over the deck, drenching any who dared to venture out from below. The occasional rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. 

Their journey had been fairly smooth so far, aside from the current storm. Three days ago, they left port for a set of coordinance in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. From there, they would dive down in a submarine to the ocean floor and...pick around for artifacts or something. Honestly, it all sounded pretty asinine. But, Sasha was getting paid big bucks to take this little vacation, so he would keep  his doubts to himself. 

He'd kept himself busy the last three days by helping load and unload equipment around the ship. He'd wandered around the cargo hold a bit to admit the magnificent submarine, and maybe even got sea sick once or twice. The books he'd been wise enough to bring had been a great time killer. He had a feeling he'd get all his summer reading done on this trip. Honestly, Sasha wasn't sure why Whitmore thought an entire armed militia was necessary. They were going to the ocean floor, what were they supposed to fight? [i]Lobsters?[/i]   

It was safe to say that he didn't buy into this "Atlantis" nonsense one bit. Sasha was a realist. He didn't believe in fairies, ghosts, or lost cities. But, who knows, maybe he'd be wrong. 

The bunk he'd claimed as his own wasn't nearly big enough for him. He laid on his back, head propped up and feet hanging off the end, a book in his hands. Sasha was good at keeping to himself. He'd exchanged polite chat with his crew mates when it was necessary, but he wasn't exactly the image of hospitality. They seemed alright, though.