Florida

You don't actually reach shore on your own: The Coast Guard stops you first.

They have a long talk (you let John lead), and he spins a half-truth about a problem at sea separating the two of you from the ship. The guard checks your lifeboat's registration - which checks out, of course - and nod, towing you the rest of the way to a dock... where you're given mixed news by the coast guard rep: "Okay, so... your ship is tentatively scheduled to make landfall in Tampa Bay in two weeks. We can let you moor here in Miami for about a week. After that... well... then you can't moor here anymore. You'll need to arrange an alternative by then. Need a phone?"

"Yes please," John answers, and the voast guard leads you both to a desk... where he lets John use an ancient wired phone. He places the expected call... takes down some information... and then spends an hour filling out forms... and then takes you back to the lifeboat.

Once the two of you are alone, he finally lets the facade slip, "Okay, so... we got a problem."

Only one? "I'm listening," you nod.

"I don't look anything like my ID. Family resemblance, but that's it." He takes a breath, "those papers are gonna be checked against corporate data and get back here in a day or two... with a copy of my ID. If I had some papers that said I went through sex change surgery or something... but that don't happen at sea. So... we're going to be arrested for fraud if we stick around."

You consider that, "I can prove the tech thing. Remember the logs?"

"That's a party trick," John shakes her head, "not enough for court."

"We're also going to have a dozen of your crewmates here in two weeks...." you purse your lips.

"I really don't want to gamble on them being honest - or even sticking to the schedule - under these circumstances." He considers, "Honestly, I half expect them to try piracy, starting with selling the current cargo."

You consider that, "We can show them the wound thing, tell them exactly what to look for with a scanning electron microscope...." you consider.

"And how much do thoae things cost?" John looks at you with hia big round eyes, "Do you really expect one will be available?"

"Of the sort needed to see the nanites... about ten million, right...." you tap your fingers on a bench, "...we're contagious, we could demonstrate that way..."

"Deliberately infect someone?" John cringes. "Might get stuck in quarantine in someone's lab if we point that out."

You consider, and open your bag, showing her the contents, "We could liquidate some of this, then cut and run...."

John whistles, then pauses, "Then we'd be fugitives..." she scowls, "...there's no good option, is there?"