16 June, 0817 hours, San Diego
Because where else would you meet an alien, except at a Denny's? Navy Commander Murphy Duncan ordered coffee and breakfast, leaned back in the booth, and absently stared out the window. The sunrise would not be far off now, and the clouds had scattered across the horizon to frame a typical September morning. After a quick breakfast, it would be a short drive to 32nd Street, then down to the San Diego Naval Base, assigned parking, and a train ride.
While he waited he scanned news headlines on his cell phone while rubbing the stubble under his chin. At least the world hadn't gone completely to shit since yesterday. Or maybe it had, and nobody was able to tell it plainly. Reporting for duty in civilian clothes was still a novelty, and he tried to fit the part of just a normal guy grabbing breakfast with a friend.
From his booth, Murphy watched the customers as they parked and entered. Waiting for Michael. Again.
A silver Porsche pulled into the lot, rolling a little too fast. After parking across two spaces, the driver got out and opened the door for a passenger. The driver was tall, lean, and blonde with aviator shades and a devil-may-care hairstyle. His passenger was a blonde woman who was nearly as tall, with a radiance that held court like the rising sun. Dammit, they were on time.
"Great." Michael had arrived and brought a date. Murphy motioned the waitress for more coffee, then pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and liberally dosed the dregs of his coffee with some bourbon. Kentucky coffee.
Murphy's breakfast arrived, and he rose to meet his visitors with as little enthusiasm as he could muster. Michael's soft blue shirt was velvet or cashmere or something, and he smelled like a fruit salad - or more likely fruity drinks. He introduced Alisse, and she wrinkled her nose at Murphy in acknowledgement of his existence. Even a blind man would notice the leather skirt she wore.
The waitress slowed down long enough to nod at Michael's rapid-fire order of fruit juice, egg white omelettes, fruit cup and a biscuit.
"How was the flight from Houston?" Murphy felt compelled to make some small talk, even though he hated it.
Mikal shrugged. "At least I didn't need my passport."
"Did you tour the space center?" Murphy smiled, remembering his first visit long years ago.
"Sort of a tourist trap, but lots of solid exhibits." Michael wrinkled his thin lips into a smile of disdain. "I like my science more... raw."
"I'll be glad to get today over with." Murphy felt a nervous agitation welling up in his stomach, tying his breakfast in knots. "Tomorrow is going to be far too interesting."
"You just don't like the train. You'll get used to it fast enough." Mikal took his shades off, revealing very large eyes of deep blue, with reddish smudges around the edges.
"Up too late last night?" Murphy stabbed a fork at Mikal's face.
"Still up."
"Serious?" Murphy had gone many years since he had stayed up all night.
"Sirius! No. I keep telling you we're from the Pleiades!" Michael grinned wolfishly while Murphy buried his face in his hands in mock dismay. Michael's breakfast arrived, and he tucked into it like he had not eaten in days. "You know, we could just eat in the chow hall like everybody else."
"We are not everybody else, though, are we?" Murphy simply liked breakfast almost anywhere else but a chow hall, and Michael enjoyed postponing the inevitable. "And how are you, Alisse?"
"Fine thanks." Alisse was evidently not one for small talk either.
Michael smirked, talking around his food, "Your people are paranoid. This is hard for me to get used to."
