Hotel Reception

      The heavy, brown curtains kept most of the mid-morning sun at bay, only allowing thin strings of yellow light to streak across the room. The musky odor of alcohol, cigars, and sex was nearly illuminated by the rays as it kept a not so inconspicuous presence from yesterday evening, last night, and hell, this morning too. I won't lie, it was obvious. Housekeeping was going to be pissed. I guess the staff of The Westin had every right to be. Had I come into a room in the condition this was in, I would have immediately left the hotel. But as such as it was, this was partly my fault. The rest belonged to the brown haired woman sleeping beside me, the sheet stopping just above her hips and her breasts not quite giving into the sideways pull of gravity. A potpourri of clothes, blankets, pillows, probably broken hotel decorations, and three of the four chairs from the window side table were strewn around the floor. The table itself was upside down; I wasn't too sure how it got that way. Interestingly enough, most of the flat surfaces in the room held a glass, bottle, or can previously filled with the nectar of the gods, if not an alcoholic, in tidy perfection. Yes, even when drunk, I still have priorities.
     I had been awake for a couple hours now sitting up against the leather cushioned headboard flipping through Saturday morning TV. I hadn't slept near as late as a night of inebriation and coital relations normally would allow me to. No, it was the meeting I was supposed to have at 9:30am. Waking up late for a crucial, pre-launch meeting with NASA is something I would not consider. It was almost 11 now and I always try to be awake when I'm late for a meeting. If it can wait until Saturday, it can wait until Monday. That's how I see it. Apparently some people don't though. One of those people was sitting outside in the main room of the suite clearing his throat in regular intervals. Dan Stevens, the director himself, was growing impatient. The meeting wasn't terribly important; neither name nor were agenda attached. Just the head honchos getting together prior to the last week before launch. Hence, no calls and Stevens showing up in my room unannounced. Heads of government agencies tend to have that privilege. I reached over and gave Donna, no Danielle, no Denise a twist of her right n****e. She cooed and asked still mostly asleep, “What time is it?”

     “It's 11 doll. I'll be outside if you need me,” I replied. She mumbled something about work as I put on a robe and I slid open the double doors to reveal as little of the carnage as possible. It turns out I didn't need to. The living room was just as bad. It was a one bedroom suite with a living room that wrapped around the right side of the bedroom so both rooms had floor to ceiling views of the San Diego skyline. It looked like we tried to build a fort with the furniture and cushions that failed miserably.

      “Do I want to ask?” His tone was worse than my mother's as he flipped through a thick folder.

      “I just had a few drinks.” Sort of.

      “You're lucky no one else wanted to be there this morning either. Granted, it's a go, no-go situation at this point, but this mission goes beyond everything we have in place right now. The Jupiter Project is still shaky, you know that. Jack, I really hope you've read this by now.” He tossed the file across the table. It was a standard mission brief complete with ship profiles, primary personnel, and objectives.

     "Of course I've looked at it." That wasn't a lie either, technically.

  "Before or after you flipped the table? Seriously, you should actually take time to read it through and without this." He held up a glass of whiskey giving it a little shake before finishing it off. He pulled out another envelope from his suitcase.

      "Sue me, I'm not a morning person."

      "The president wants to be sure of this mission. No one has forgotten the Mars Reclamation and the crews that got their asses wiped by the asteroid belt. The public won't settle for more disasters, Jack, and we don't have much more wiggle room left."

      "Come on Dan, I'm not driving the damn ship. I've got plenty of time to sit on my a*s and go over this. Relax will ya?"

      "I've got the Budget Office breathing down my neck. I've got a Congress that wants to find any way to shut down the deep space program before we get anywhere with it.” He emphasized the pronouns to make his point. “I've still got ships under construction contracts both on and off Earth and you tell me to relax. That's a good one Jack."

      "I can do my job. Don't worry about that. Just get me there and I'll tell you whether National Geographic is right or not with all this intelligent life talk." Stevens laughed more out of sarcasm.

"Intelligent life, ha! Do you really think that after all the sensors, the video, and the imagery from SPARTANs IV and V that we would have at least caught a glimpse of something other than trees, grass, and animals?"

      "You can have forests that sing and rivers filled with sugar water for all I know. Look, you know as well as I that everything so far has told us that there isn't civilized life as we know it on that planet. Who knows what the guys on the Benny did or didn't find. The plant and animal life we've seen so far is consistent with a carbon based, oxygen rich, evolutionary track similar to our own."

      "Hope you're right." He just let the cat out of the bag. So there was a method to the madness that I slept in for.

      "We'll see. So did you really come here just because I missed a worthless weekend meeting? That isn't like you Dan." He sat back in his chair with his trademark look of defeat and secrecy all in the same face. He was horrible at poker.

      "Ok, here's the deal. Got something in the other day that's left the guys scratching their heads. This is one of those things that won't see the news." He slid the manila envelope over and I examined its contents closely. "The Spartan VIII, as you know, was sent with the USS Benjamin as an extra set of eyes from the sky. They assumed OPCON from the time they passed behind Medusa's Breath.”

      "Ahh, the electrical cloud. Well, at least I'll be able to charge my phone if we don't get fried in the process. So what's the punch line here? Did it take some mechanical liberties like that other one?"

     "The Leonidas mission never went operational, Jack. Don't go there. Once they were in orbit around the green giant, they sent an exploratory team to the surface.”

      "What's this have to do with Spartan VIII?"

      "The Benjamin programmed a repeating collection grid based on the location of the team. During each orbit, the satellite would record imagery of the team and their surroundings out to 10 kilometers as both a safety precaution and for observation of potential research sites.”

      “The team confirmed most of the theories the first few days on the ground from what I've read.”

      “Right. The team also had the ability send ad hoc requests which were integrated into the next day's collection. For three weeks, the team didn't request any different grids; they reported sufficiency with the coverage area. The ad hoc request they sent up was what rose our red flags. The coverage area was just over 100km from standard collection deck along the plateau's southern edge. The request was granted without explanation or questioning which is not my jurisdiction. So the next day comes and you've got the imagery that was taken.”

      They were photos of nothing, at least technologically. Each labeled militarily with the standard levels of zoom and he was right. There was nothing there, no sign of the ship or a human presence. To me, it was a logical explanation. “So is the grid wrong?”

      “In any other circumstance, I'd say most likely. But not this one. We lost all major connectivity 4.5 hours prior to the SPARTAN arriving on station. All comms, tracking beacons, you name it and it's gone. The only thing we have is a faint electromagnetic signal which is somehow moving and stationary at the same time. A complete oxymoron I know but that faint reading is underneath the plateau and moving, and staying still. That's what they guys are having so much difficulty with.”

      “What? You're talking to a microbiologist like a I'm a mechanical engineer. Unless something is sprouting flowers and leaves, there's not a lot I'm going to do for you."

Dan laughed and nodded. “That's where the Marines come in. Purely recovery at this point as far as we're concerned.”

      "Recovery huh? So the entire team is dead?"

      "Presumably, or they just went off the deep end. That's another reason we haven't released them. The President doesn't want another black eye from a group of guys that found paradise and told the rest of us to shove it."

      "You think that's a possibility?" It was too simplistic a theory for the brains at NASA.

      "No sign of foul play, no distress call, no atmospheric interference, and no evidence of a sinister force to speak of. Their signal just stopped. 7 government employees and a landing craft disappear on at the flip of a switch on a foreign planet.  The guys can't come up with any other logical conclusion."

      "That doesn't seem likely though Dan. Those guys have families, kids for crying out loud. I don't know many people who would go halfway to the center of the galaxy just to give all that up."

      "I don't know, I really don't. But it's possible, a chance to get rid of all the red tape, the stresses of Earth and Mars, sun bathe on an alien beach with a big fat alien coconut and get away from it all."

      "I guess, but I would at least want a woman with me you know. I can't imagine what a handful of guys would want to do together. Hey, have you taken a look at the flowers?" I had become fixated on a particular shot of a field about a kilometer from the crew's requested center point. There were about ten to fifteen large flowers in a cluster clearly visible even at an expanded resolution.”

      "You're talking to a mechanical engineer like a microbiologist." Dan laughed.

      "Point taken. Look at these, they're huge. Based on the vegetation around them I'd say they were about the size of those beach umbrellas, meter and a half? Two?"

      "We don't think they are stationary. They've been seen both in the water and on land. Wind driven maybe?"

     "Valid assessment with leaves that big. They could possibly provide enough lift to get a few inches off the ground weight depending.”

      "Don't worry, you'll have your way with them soon enough. Out of curiosity-" he was cut off by my, just awakened, guest.

      “Oh s**t!!” Her shriek from the bedroom was followed by a panicked scramble around the room, made evident by the sounds of an increasing hotel bill judging by the crashes and breaking glass. I could tell when Dan was not happy, in other words, pissed. He sat back in his chair and stared expressionless waiting for an explanation. I returned his stare equally although I noticed a slight twiched in his neck each time more of the government's money crashed to the floor. Denise threw open the doors and completely disregarded us as she hobbled around looking for her other red pump. Her hair was pulled back not brushed and she wore the same uniform she arrived in. A dark navy skirt, untucked white shirt, and she carried her jacket with her purse. She at last found her shoe behind the couch and gaining what little composure she had, quickly made her way to the door. “My shift starts in ten minutes, AAAH!” She kissed my cheek and almost made it out the door before turning back. Nearly tip-toing back to the table, she stooped down and picked up her red lace bra. Then she left, door clicking shut behind her.

      “Out of curiosity,” Dan tried to continue.

      “I swear she's not a prostitute.”

      “After all this time, you know why the government is going gladly foot the bill for anything you do short of espionage.”

      “Dan, I'm serious. She's not a prostitute.”

      “Like that matters when we're within a week of launching and a day from going into quarantine. Unbelievable Jack.”

      “Sooo, is supper still on tonight?” He stared at the ceiling and let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

      “Be there at 7, without a hangover. Cheri will kill us both if she doesn't get to use her slow cooker.” He stood and left. I really wanted to go after him though I'm not sure it would have been prudent. All I wanted to see was the look on his face when he saw Denise working the front desk.