sounds like a good week, beck. in fact. i put your folder in front of the vice president of district operations last night.
don't thank me, yet, but it is important to know where you're going and who your friends are.  'know what i mean?
as long as you know it's not in your contract.
well, suit yourself, then. its your decision.  ha ha. a little joke. suit yourself.
beautiful.
well, according to maritime law, you, as commander of the shack have the authority to dispose of the body. however, the company doesn't want you to do that.
but you don't have any proof at this point to assume that this disease is contagious, do you?
beck, trust me. if the company felt that you or your crew were in any danger we would authorize an immediate emergency pickup. we could be there in a few hours.
unfortunately. we can't.
it shouldn't be a long delay.
twelve hours, no big deal. we should know something first thing in the morning. don't worry.
thank goodness, you're still alive!
please relax, mr. jones. every- thing is under control. naturally, when we received dr. warren's message we were concerned but would never have deserted you.
well, that's the bad news. the typhoon did turn your way. right now it is on a course--
hopefully in the next 48 hours.
i realize you must have gone through hell--
i can't change the weather. try to get some rest. i'll keep you posted.
we did. many times.
beck! i told them you'd make it. no one back at transocean believed me, but i never gave up on you once. so, how are you feeling?