Marcos Navarro and John Serrin
Guam -- 120 Nautical Miles from Triteia Station
Introductions flew about the room quickly. Marcos was only able to keep pace because he'd been given a roster and knew who to expect, otherwise it would have been a long ride of "who are you agains" or, more likely, just avoiding the conversation for the sheer awkwardness of not wanting to admit that they couldn't remember each other's names.
"Great, now that we're all here, it's --"
"I believe your compliment includes one more," a voice spoke from the door that had carried the rest of them into the room, interrupting Navarro. Following the voice was a suit-clad man a hair over six foot, horseshoe balding with a generally stern expression softened somewhat by wire-frame glasses. On an island filled with laid-back locals or relaxing tourists, the man stuck out like a sore thumb in his dress more appropriate for a board room than a surfing board.
"I...There must have been some mistake, sir, this is --" The ex-naval officer was cut off once again as the suit-clad man walked across the room and handed him some papers in a manilla folder.
"There's been no mistake. I certainly understand if you need to step out and make a call to confirm all of this. You can use my phone," the man offered politely.
Navarro stared at the papers, the man, back to the papers again. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, he accepted the phone and stepped out into the hall, murmuring something about hanging tight to the members of the research team as he did. The suit-clad man watched him leave cooly before turning to everyone else in the room.
"Forgive the dramatic entrance," he apologized with a small smile. "John Serrin. I work for TLI's compliance division. Last-minute addition to your excursion to help the board make sure everything is in full compliance with the station. Rest assured, I'm just here to make sure you all have everything you need to make your work as successful as possible."
Moments later, Navarro entered, clearly flustered but trying to push through the discomfort.
"Right then, so
that makes a full crew. Mr. Serrin, welcome aboard," he swallowed. "Now, the boat waiting outside is a decent ride, but I might want to suggest that you stay off the outer deck for the first thirty minutes or so once we get going. With the tide this morning, it's a little choppy and it'll take a couple hours to get you to the elevator and then all the way down to the station, so getting wet now's going to make for a really uncomfortable trip. Just," he said, tossing the coffee cup into the trash and taking one long look over the rest of them, especially the sudden arrival, "just follow me."
He beckoned through the other doorway, leading out to the docks and a small gangplank onto the charter boat that would carry them to the elevator. Within twenty minutes, they were on their own power and Guam was slowly shrinking in the distance.