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UK residents, T's and C supply.

It's 10.15 PM on September the 18th, 2012.

127 miles off the East Coast of Scotland, the North Sea rolls under gale force winds.

Large swells break into frothing white peaks.

The driving rain almost drowns the lights of the Bibby Topas, a diving support vessel as it lists from side to side.

But 100 meters below the surface on the seabed, there is deathly calm. Through his diving mask, 32-year-old Chris Lemons scans the black expanse above him,

his panicked eyes searching the gloom for a glimmer of light.

I remember taking a pause I think almost a pause of disbelief when I did land on my back looking up into the sea above me I often call it the sky above me but it's yeah it's definitely the sea above me, the sky above me, but it's definitely the sea above me, the blackness and almost a surreal pause just thinking, you know, where am I, what am I doing?

Against the total silence of the sea, the thud of his heart and the blood roaring in his ears is almost deafening.

Gradually, the reality of what's happening starts to sink in, where he is, how he got here,

and the urgent steps he needs to take if he's going to survive.

Short of breath, Chris draws a lungful of air from the emergency gas bottles on his back, allowing him to think. His crew mates up on the surface, there is only hope, but

finding him down here in the pitch black, all but impossible.

Quite literally, a shot in the dark.

All Chris can do is improve his chances of being spotted.

Somewhere nearby is the steel structure he was sent down here to work on.

It's big and yellow, the size of a two-story house. And yet it is nowhere to be seen.

...