Subramanian was surprised by the question because he had clearly written it on the immigration form. He was wondering if this man required a bribe. “Business. I am here to help with the submarine rescue.”
The immigration official looked up at him. “Ah, yes, the American submarine. But you are Indian no?”
“I work in the United States at the institute the submarine belongs to. I am a psychologist.”
“And where will you be staying while you are on the island Mr. Sub… ram… anian?”
“Actually, I am not sure. I was expecting to be taken out to the surface support vessel and I expect to be staying on it until the incident is resolved.”
His passport was stamped and handed back to him.
“Good luck sir, and enjoy your stay.”
Subramanian took the passport and customs form. “Thank you. I hope to have some time to explore your country.”
But secretly he doubted that would happen. He imagined a week or more on the ship followed by a ride back to the airport and a flight home. That was just the nature of these kinds of trips. Fly into some interesting place and totally miss seeing any of it.
On the other side of immigration, he found his one bag by the side of the conveyor and walked through customs without being stopped any longer than it took to take his form from him.
He followed a family outside and looked for anyone he might recognize. The plan was for him and the rest of the staff to be met here. He had been fortunate to get a slightly earlier flight and had travelled ahead of the rest of the team, and he wondered now if that meant nobody would be here to collect him. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone when he heard a voice calling to him.
Across the narrow road was a parking lot and in it he saw a man waving at him. “Dr. Subramanian?”
He nodded and crossed the road.
“I’m here to take you to the quay sir. Is that your only bag?”
“Oh yes.” Subramanian shook his head side to side in the Indian motion for ‘yes’. The driver was confused by the response but saw no other bags and the man didn’t seem to be anxious that he was missing anything so he opened the passenger door and the trunk.
Subramanian put his bag in the trunk and closed it, then climbed into the car. He noted that the car was American with the steering wheel on the left. He thought they drove on the left here and was horrified to find that they did as they pulled away with him on what he though should have been the driver’s side.
There was a lot of traffic, especially in Georgetown as they made their way though thousands of tourists intent on buying t-shirts and other valueless junk. He could have walked faster than they were driving, but he had no idea where they were going and the A/C in the car was very pleasant.
They pulled into the Burger King parking lot and Subramanian asked: “What are we doing here?”
“This is where we get the boat out to the surface vessel.”
It seemed very unlikely, and he wondered for a moment if he was about to be mugged. When he got out of the car he saw over the railings at the end of the parking lot, the top of a small boat with one woman at the helm on an upper bridge.
She waved at them. “All set?” she shouted. “Or do you want to grab some food to take?”
Subramanian still had not taken to American food, and in any case found it odd to find the same awful stuff here in what he thought had been a British colony. Somehow he expected that would mean Indian food. India had also been such a colony. He decided to simply say “No.” and shake his head up and down in the usual way.
“You do?” came the shouted response.
“No. I do not need food thank you.”
They had to climb over the railings and step onto the upper bridge of the boat, then climb down a ladder to the main deck at the rear. It looked like a small dive boat. There were racks of tanks around the outside. He guessed that the institute must have chartered it to use as a ferry.
He felt increasingly uncomfortable in his suit and dress shoes. He should have thought about his wardrobe more carefully. He was used to dressing like all the other academic staff. Well, at least all the staff with some kind of sense of dress. There seemed to be quite a few who dressed like tramps. It was a very odd culture.
The ride out to the support vessel took only 10 minutes. The edge of the Cayman wall is very close to shore. The sea was fairly calm but the boat occasionally hit a larger wave and caused a big spray to fly past the end of the cabin area where he was standing. He had started off inside the cabin area but the motion of the boat had made him feel sick. It was better where he was in the fresh air and could see outside.
By the time they reached the support barge, part of his jacket and pants were damp with sea water. He felt very uncomfortable and mentally filed the details away. It was otherwise a nice sunny day with little wind. The scenery was pleasant and he had not expected to feel this way. This kind of data was what he lived for.
Kate was back in the galley looking for garbage bags. She hadn’t bothered to take off the dive gear. There were two boxes under the sink but both were for small bins and not a lot of use for covering the waterlogged mattress. “Well, what did you expect?” We have small garbage cans. So we have small bags.” She was about to give up on the idea of using the mattress at all when she found a bag of plastic table covers. “Those might work.”
She stuffed the bag into the front of her BC and made her way back to the ops room. She arrived just in time to hear a beep from the ELF radio announcing a new message had been received.
She shrugged of the scuba gear and walked over, leaving a trail of puddles on the deck.
The message read: “How do you feel?”
She typed: “Damp,” and sent it back.
“Idiots.”
Kate got out of her dive suit and hung it up on the overhead pipes to dry. She stepped on the mattress with her foot and more water seeped out on the floor. There was no way the mattress would dry out in the humidity. Everything was always slightly damp in the hab. She wondered about sleeping in her dive suit. After all, she was wearing it almost all the time anyway. “OK, so not such a good idea with the mattress.” she thought. Not willing to give up yet, she rolled the mattress up as tight as she could then stood on it and walked her feet about while holding onto the pipes in the ceiling. When no more water came out she let it unroll and pulled out one of the plastic table cloths. It covered the mattress completely so she thought she’d try to lie down on it and see what it felt like. “Got my own water bed right here.”
The sweat pants and t-shirt she was wearing were already damp. Everything was damp. The biologist in her imagined what a wonderful breeding ground it was for bacteria. Nothing better than warm and damp.
She sat down carefully on the mattress and more water ran out onto the deck. The white plastic table cloth crinkled up under her but stayed put. Carefully, she lay down to the sounds of more water trickling out. “Not too terrible. Better than the towels.”
She put her hands behind her head and starred at the pipes on the ceiling. “Why does Williams care how I feel?”
No sooner had she thought that, than she heard another beep from the ELF radio. She got up carefully and inspected the table cloth. It was still covering the mattress so it might work out as a bed after all. “It was certainly a lot of effort to get the stupid thing up here.”
The ELF radio showed a new message: “How are you feeling Kate? Are you wet?”
“What kind of a stupid question is that?” she said aloud. “OK. I’ll play along.”
She typed a response: “Yes, I’m wet. Everything is wet. This is a sub. Things get wet in a sub that has holes in it. Who is this?”