| The Hotel Galileo - Lee Moan |
Chapter One
A Very Important Guest
In the vast reception hall of the Hotel Galileo, Barclay Heath sat alone at a corner table, reading from a very old
and dusty book. Through the giant observation window to his left, the shoulder of Orion glittered in the velvet
blackness of space; on the table before him, a complimentary glass of 1922 Chateau Mouton Rothschild sat
untouched. Neither of these distractions could tear him away from the pages of that ancient volume.
In the end, it was the attentions of an elderly female guest, who had recently taken her place at the table
opposite, which disturbed his enjoyment of the book. He felt her gaze fixating on him at regular intervals. Finally,
unable to bear the scrutiny any longer, he glanced up to ascertain who she was and why she might be staring at
him.
She was clearly an earth woman, of African origin. Her face was a map of wrinkles, her fingers gnarled with
arthritis, distended veins on the backs of her hands. Heath deduced she was perhaps as old as seventy-five in
human years. She wore a stunning lemon chiffon dress, specially tailored to accommodate her enormous girth;
and the clusters of diamond jewellery adorning her ears and fingers hinted at considerable wealth.
On finishing her meal, the elderly woman sat back and looked at Heath once more, her gaze roaming over his
fashionable attire: the grey sacque suit and peach shirt, the white and tan lace-up brogues. When their eyes met,
she offered a broad smile.
“That must be a good book,” she said.
Heath closed it for a moment, giving her his full attention. “Why do you say that, madam?”
She gestured at the stunning celestial vision outside. “Here you are, sitting in front of one of the most beautiful
views in the galaxy, and yet your nose is buried in the pages of that book.”
Heath smiled graciously. “You are correct, madam. It is an extraordinary read.”
She peered at the cover myopically. “It looks quite old.”
“Indeed. It is a rare treasure. A first edition, no less. Paradise Lost,” he explained, holding up the cover of the
book. “John Milton.”
“A name from Earth’s literary past,” she said nodding. She was silent for a moment. “I am rather ashamed,” she
said. “Earth is the only planet in the known universe to have produced printed books and yet I do not own a
single one. Books are hard to come by out here in space, and I fear I have lived in this hotel for far too long.”
Heath saw a glimmer of melancholy pass over the old woman’s features. Just as she was about to say
something else, a booming voice cut across the lounge.
“Barclay Heath! As I live and breathe!”
Heath followed the voice, relief at the interruption giving way to unbridled joy at the sight of its owner. He was a
large, broad-shouldered man, packed tightly into a sleek black uniform. His drooping grey moustache appeared
to hover above his wide, thick-lipped mouth. Heath rose from his chair to greet him.
“Brin Dante!”
They shook hands and clapped each other on the shoulder.
“Here I am, Head of Security,” Dante said. “Yet I had no idea you were coming to stay!”
“I was unaware you were employed on this facility, my friend, otherwise I would have forwarded a
communiqué.”
Dante laughed. “Then it’s a good job I spotted your name on the checking-in list. I would never have forgiven
myself if I’d missed seeing you. Are you staying long?”
“No, just one night. I leave tomorrow on a chartered cruiser.”
“Where are you heading?”
“Earth, old boy.”
Dante’s smile faltered. “Earth?”
“Yes, my friend. I’ve been on extended vacation.”
“I could think of many better and safer destinations than Earth right now, especially in the current climate. You’
re aware of the situation?”
Heath shook his head.
“How long have you been away?”
“Six months.”
“Then you won’t know about the terrorist attacks. Terra Dictum claim responsibility for most of it. Awful
business.” He leaned in close. “They’re really giving us humans a bad name.”
Heath smiled. “I will no doubt learn of it when I return home. Regardless of what may have occurred, let’s hope
the greater intergalactic community understands we humans are not all uncivilised thugs. After all, Earth is the
birthplace of all great literature; surely a civilising force if ever there was one. Personally, I feel humanity’s
simple, remarkable gift to the universe should earn us some latitude.”
“If only the rest of the universe shared that sentiment.”
Heath and Dante turned to the elderly lady. She stared back at them with a puckish gleam in her eyes, before
raising her glass in salute.
Dante bowed to the elderly guest. “You two have been introduced?” he asked.
They both indicated they had not.
“Barclay, this is Ladysmith N’Guemebitighe of the N’Guemebitighe Dynasty. She is our longest-residing guest,
and one of the founding benefactors of the hotel. She has been staying with us since the Galileo opened ten
years ago. And Ladysmith, may I introduce you to Barclay Heath, the greatest detective mind in the known
universe.”
Heath’s complexion flushed with colour. “He exaggerates,” he told her.
“I certainly do not!” Dante declaimed. “Ladysmith, this is the detective who solved the Galreon Bridge
kidnapping case a few years back. He was also the genius who deciphered the riddle of the Erasmus Star.”
The elderly woman’s features wrinkled in deep thought. “You?” she said to Heath. “You were involved in the
Erasmus Star case?”
Heath threw a dark look at his friend. Dante became suddenly agitated.
Ladysmith N’Guemebitighe regarded them both with equal concern. “Mister Heath...” she said. “The Erasmus
Star investigation was run by Earth’s Secret Service. That would make you...”
A distant siren, followed by a violent shudder, which seemed to pass through the entire hotel, drowned her
voice out. The full glass of wine at Heath’s table quivered, spilling some of its contents onto the cover of his
book.
Dante looked across the bustling reception hall and sighed. “That docking alarm, my friends, signifies the arrival
of a
very important guest. As head of security, I must attend to them. Would you excuse me?”
“Of course,” Heath replied. “May I ask who this very important guest is?”
“Ambassador Kalfax of the Arcturan Embassy. You know him?”
“Why, yes,” Heath said. “I’m just surprised he’s chosen to stay at the Hotel Galileo.”
“He’s en route to Earth, like yourself, but for a very different reason. He’s attending the Intergalactic Council
Summit. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to him or his daughter during their stay.”
Barclay knew the Hotel Galileo was a flagship for human space engineering, a monument to a new era in human
endeavour. Unfortunately, the multitude of species from neighboring galaxies often chose other non-human
establishments for their mid-galactic rest stop. The Arcturan ambassador’s decision to alight here was not one
made lightly or without forethought. There was real political weight behind Kalfax’s stop-off on this human-built
guest palace. Brin Dante was right to feel the burden of galactic history on his broad shoulders.
Heath nodded understandingly. “Attend to your duties then, my friend.”
Dante bowed. “Will I get a chance for a drink with you later?”
“I hope so,” Heath said. “But I must sleep first. Perhaps this evening.”
Dante laughed. “But it is evening! Don’t forget, my friend, the hotel runs by an Earth timetable.”
Shaking his head, Heath said, “As long as I live, I will never grow accustomed to the vagaries of space travel.”
The burly head of security turned away and was soon lost in a moving kaleidoscope of colour.
Heath returned to his table and sat down. Picking up his much-treasured book, he used a napkin to dab at the
blotches of wine staining its cover.
“My dear Mister Heath,” Ladysmith said. “I never would have labelled you as a secret agent.”
He looked up, gathering a polite smile on his face once more. “It was a long time ago, ma’am. The only benefit
of that employment was a more than generous pension which has enabled me to indulge my passion for travel.”
“But can I just say; the solution of the Erasmus Star enigma was genius. Pure genius. Please, tell me how you
did it?”
He shrugged. “Ma’am, please accept my apologies, but such facts must remain secret. It’s better that way.”
She sipped her wine, studying him with a whimsical look. “So many secrets,” she said. “The great mystery
solver of our time proves to be the greatest mystery of all.”
Heath raised the book demonstratively and resumed his reading, signifying their conversation was over.
Before he had finished the page, a knot of uniformed guards marched into the reception area and lined the
doors at the north end of the hall. Brin Dante followed in their wake, accompanied by a tall, emaciated man in a
charcoal suit that hung off his bony limbs like a shroud. The man wrung his hands constantly in an overt show of
anxiety. Heath deduced he was the hotel’s manager.
With a loud hiss of steam, the large door slid open like the iris of a gigantic eye, and through the aperture
stepped the alien entourage. The ambassador was an Arcturan of distinguished appearance. A large domed
head accentuated his pale, hairless features; there were no earlobes, only two oval slits on either side of the
head, and the nose was a stub with tiny nostrils. At his side was another Arcturan, tall, muscular, and with the
same keen-eyed manner as Dante. Heath assumed he was the ambassador’s personal bodyguard. Finally,
standing just behind the ambassador, was an Arcturan girl. Unlike her father, she had a healthy bloom of pink in
both cheeks. Her eyes were the biggest, bluest eyes Heath had ever seen in any species. She surveyed the
reception area with her nose in the air and, with a tiny disapproving sniff, returned her attention to the rest of the
group.
The hotel manager stepped forward. “Your Excellency, welcome to the Hotel Galileo.” He extended his open
palm to offer a traditional Earth greeting.
Ambassador Kalfax looked down at the manager’s proffered hand with a startled expression. In the resulting
silence, the manager’s cheeks grew visibly redder.
In the end, it was Brin Dante who came to his rescue. “Mister Maycock, on Arcturus it is customary to raise
your palms like this, and bow.”
“So sorry,” Maycock told the Arcturan party, and performed the appropriate gesture. A broad grin split the
ambassador’s features, and he returned the greeting.
“Follow me, Your Excellency,” Maycock said. “I shall check you in at the reception desk, and then show you
to your guest quarters. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Maycock led the Arcturan entourage across the reception area.
“The Hotel Galileo offers the finest in human-built comfort and relaxation. We have a luxury sports hall, a
swimming area, a theatre, and a most impressive dancehall.” Maycock paused. “Ambassador, I understand you
are only staying for one night before continuing on to Earth, but I guarantee you: come tomorrow, you will wish
you were able to extend your stay...”
As the small group passed by, Heath’s gaze settled on a small figure trailing along behind them. It was one of
the hotel’s porters, a human boy of mid-teen age, dressed in the gold and maroon uniform of the hotel’s staff.
He was pushing an anti-gravity pallet, piled high with six distinctive black and silver cases. The boy appeared to
be having trouble controlling the directional movement of the hovering pallet, almost crashing into several guests
as he made his way across the reception hall.
Heath could not help wondering why a boy so young would be out here working in a space hotel on the
shoulder of Orion.
He reminded himself he was still officially on vacation, and should place his detective’s brain back in its case.
A Very Important Guest
In the vast reception hall of the Hotel Galileo, Barclay Heath sat alone at a corner table, reading from a very old
and dusty book. Through the giant observation window to his left, the shoulder of Orion glittered in the velvet
blackness of space; on the table before him, a complimentary glass of 1922 Chateau Mouton Rothschild sat
untouched. Neither of these distractions could tear him away from the pages of that ancient volume.
In the end, it was the attentions of an elderly female guest, who had recently taken her place at the table
opposite, which disturbed his enjoyment of the book. He felt her gaze fixating on him at regular intervals. Finally,
unable to bear the scrutiny any longer, he glanced up to ascertain who she was and why she might be staring at
him.
She was clearly an earth woman, of African origin. Her face was a map of wrinkles, her fingers gnarled with
arthritis, distended veins on the backs of her hands. Heath deduced she was perhaps as old as seventy-five in
human years. She wore a stunning lemon chiffon dress, specially tailored to accommodate her enormous girth;
and the clusters of diamond jewellery adorning her ears and fingers hinted at considerable wealth.
On finishing her meal, the elderly woman sat back and looked at Heath once more, her gaze roaming over his
fashionable attire: the grey sacque suit and peach shirt, the white and tan lace-up brogues. When their eyes met,
she offered a broad smile.
“That must be a good book,” she said.
Heath closed it for a moment, giving her his full attention. “Why do you say that, madam?”
She gestured at the stunning celestial vision outside. “Here you are, sitting in front of one of the most beautiful
views in the galaxy, and yet your nose is buried in the pages of that book.”
Heath smiled graciously. “You are correct, madam. It is an extraordinary read.”
She peered at the cover myopically. “It looks quite old.”
“Indeed. It is a rare treasure. A first edition, no less. Paradise Lost,” he explained, holding up the cover of the
book. “John Milton.”
“A name from Earth’s literary past,” she said nodding. She was silent for a moment. “I am rather ashamed,” she
said. “Earth is the only planet in the known universe to have produced printed books and yet I do not own a
single one. Books are hard to come by out here in space, and I fear I have lived in this hotel for far too long.”
Heath saw a glimmer of melancholy pass over the old woman’s features. Just as she was about to say
something else, a booming voice cut across the lounge.
“Barclay Heath! As I live and breathe!”
Heath followed the voice, relief at the interruption giving way to unbridled joy at the sight of its owner. He was a
large, broad-shouldered man, packed tightly into a sleek black uniform. His drooping grey moustache appeared
to hover above his wide, thick-lipped mouth. Heath rose from his chair to greet him.
“Brin Dante!”
They shook hands and clapped each other on the shoulder.
“Here I am, Head of Security,” Dante said. “Yet I had no idea you were coming to stay!”
“I was unaware you were employed on this facility, my friend, otherwise I would have forwarded a
communiqué.”
Dante laughed. “Then it’s a good job I spotted your name on the checking-in list. I would never have forgiven
myself if I’d missed seeing you. Are you staying long?”
“No, just one night. I leave tomorrow on a chartered cruiser.”
“Where are you heading?”
“Earth, old boy.”
Dante’s smile faltered. “Earth?”
“Yes, my friend. I’ve been on extended vacation.”
“I could think of many better and safer destinations than Earth right now, especially in the current climate. You’
re aware of the situation?”
Heath shook his head.
“How long have you been away?”
“Six months.”
“Then you won’t know about the terrorist attacks. Terra Dictum claim responsibility for most of it. Awful
business.” He leaned in close. “They’re really giving us humans a bad name.”
Heath smiled. “I will no doubt learn of it when I return home. Regardless of what may have occurred, let’s hope
the greater intergalactic community understands we humans are not all uncivilised thugs. After all, Earth is the
birthplace of all great literature; surely a civilising force if ever there was one. Personally, I feel humanity’s
simple, remarkable gift to the universe should earn us some latitude.”
“If only the rest of the universe shared that sentiment.”
Heath and Dante turned to the elderly lady. She stared back at them with a puckish gleam in her eyes, before
raising her glass in salute.
Dante bowed to the elderly guest. “You two have been introduced?” he asked.
They both indicated they had not.
“Barclay, this is Ladysmith N’Guemebitighe of the N’Guemebitighe Dynasty. She is our longest-residing guest,
and one of the founding benefactors of the hotel. She has been staying with us since the Galileo opened ten
years ago. And Ladysmith, may I introduce you to Barclay Heath, the greatest detective mind in the known
universe.”
Heath’s complexion flushed with colour. “He exaggerates,” he told her.
“I certainly do not!” Dante declaimed. “Ladysmith, this is the detective who solved the Galreon Bridge
kidnapping case a few years back. He was also the genius who deciphered the riddle of the Erasmus Star.”
The elderly woman’s features wrinkled in deep thought. “You?” she said to Heath. “You were involved in the
Erasmus Star case?”
Heath threw a dark look at his friend. Dante became suddenly agitated.
Ladysmith N’Guemebitighe regarded them both with equal concern. “Mister Heath...” she said. “The Erasmus
Star investigation was run by Earth’s Secret Service. That would make you...”
A distant siren, followed by a violent shudder, which seemed to pass through the entire hotel, drowned her
voice out. The full glass of wine at Heath’s table quivered, spilling some of its contents onto the cover of his
book.
Dante looked across the bustling reception hall and sighed. “That docking alarm, my friends, signifies the arrival
of a
very important guest. As head of security, I must attend to them. Would you excuse me?”
“Of course,” Heath replied. “May I ask who this very important guest is?”
“Ambassador Kalfax of the Arcturan Embassy. You know him?”
“Why, yes,” Heath said. “I’m just surprised he’s chosen to stay at the Hotel Galileo.”
“He’s en route to Earth, like yourself, but for a very different reason. He’s attending the Intergalactic Council
Summit. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to him or his daughter during their stay.”
Barclay knew the Hotel Galileo was a flagship for human space engineering, a monument to a new era in human
endeavour. Unfortunately, the multitude of species from neighboring galaxies often chose other non-human
establishments for their mid-galactic rest stop. The Arcturan ambassador’s decision to alight here was not one
made lightly or without forethought. There was real political weight behind Kalfax’s stop-off on this human-built
guest palace. Brin Dante was right to feel the burden of galactic history on his broad shoulders.
Heath nodded understandingly. “Attend to your duties then, my friend.”
Dante bowed. “Will I get a chance for a drink with you later?”
“I hope so,” Heath said. “But I must sleep first. Perhaps this evening.”
Dante laughed. “But it is evening! Don’t forget, my friend, the hotel runs by an Earth timetable.”
Shaking his head, Heath said, “As long as I live, I will never grow accustomed to the vagaries of space travel.”
The burly head of security turned away and was soon lost in a moving kaleidoscope of colour.
Heath returned to his table and sat down. Picking up his much-treasured book, he used a napkin to dab at the
blotches of wine staining its cover.
“My dear Mister Heath,” Ladysmith said. “I never would have labelled you as a secret agent.”
He looked up, gathering a polite smile on his face once more. “It was a long time ago, ma’am. The only benefit
of that employment was a more than generous pension which has enabled me to indulge my passion for travel.”
“But can I just say; the solution of the Erasmus Star enigma was genius. Pure genius. Please, tell me how you
did it?”
He shrugged. “Ma’am, please accept my apologies, but such facts must remain secret. It’s better that way.”
She sipped her wine, studying him with a whimsical look. “So many secrets,” she said. “The great mystery
solver of our time proves to be the greatest mystery of all.”
Heath raised the book demonstratively and resumed his reading, signifying their conversation was over.
Before he had finished the page, a knot of uniformed guards marched into the reception area and lined the
doors at the north end of the hall. Brin Dante followed in their wake, accompanied by a tall, emaciated man in a
charcoal suit that hung off his bony limbs like a shroud. The man wrung his hands constantly in an overt show of
anxiety. Heath deduced he was the hotel’s manager.
With a loud hiss of steam, the large door slid open like the iris of a gigantic eye, and through the aperture
stepped the alien entourage. The ambassador was an Arcturan of distinguished appearance. A large domed
head accentuated his pale, hairless features; there were no earlobes, only two oval slits on either side of the
head, and the nose was a stub with tiny nostrils. At his side was another Arcturan, tall, muscular, and with the
same keen-eyed manner as Dante. Heath assumed he was the ambassador’s personal bodyguard. Finally,
standing just behind the ambassador, was an Arcturan girl. Unlike her father, she had a healthy bloom of pink in
both cheeks. Her eyes were the biggest, bluest eyes Heath had ever seen in any species. She surveyed the
reception area with her nose in the air and, with a tiny disapproving sniff, returned her attention to the rest of the
group.
The hotel manager stepped forward. “Your Excellency, welcome to the Hotel Galileo.” He extended his open
palm to offer a traditional Earth greeting.
Ambassador Kalfax looked down at the manager’s proffered hand with a startled expression. In the resulting
silence, the manager’s cheeks grew visibly redder.
In the end, it was Brin Dante who came to his rescue. “Mister Maycock, on Arcturus it is customary to raise
your palms like this, and bow.”
“So sorry,” Maycock told the Arcturan party, and performed the appropriate gesture. A broad grin split the
ambassador’s features, and he returned the greeting.
“Follow me, Your Excellency,” Maycock said. “I shall check you in at the reception desk, and then show you
to your guest quarters. If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Maycock led the Arcturan entourage across the reception area.
“The Hotel Galileo offers the finest in human-built comfort and relaxation. We have a luxury sports hall, a
swimming area, a theatre, and a most impressive dancehall.” Maycock paused. “Ambassador, I understand you
are only staying for one night before continuing on to Earth, but I guarantee you: come tomorrow, you will wish
you were able to extend your stay...”
As the small group passed by, Heath’s gaze settled on a small figure trailing along behind them. It was one of
the hotel’s porters, a human boy of mid-teen age, dressed in the gold and maroon uniform of the hotel’s staff.
He was pushing an anti-gravity pallet, piled high with six distinctive black and silver cases. The boy appeared to
be having trouble controlling the directional movement of the hovering pallet, almost crashing into several guests
as he made his way across the reception hall.
Heath could not help wondering why a boy so young would be out here working in a space hotel on the
shoulder of Orion.
He reminded himself he was still officially on vacation, and should place his detective’s brain back in its case.
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| WolfSinger Publications |
| Don't Write What You Know; Write What You Care About -- Passionately! |
