SPACE TOY - A Planet 51 FanFic

Chapter 4: Man

"There's one last thing we need to discuss..." He pauses for a moment, walking next to me and the soldiers who escorted me to the inspection room. His hands, usually positioned behind his back, are now at his sides, and his face remains stern and ominous, even after I threw up on him. 

The soldiers push me into the room, and a soft gasp escapes my lips as he shuts the door and guides me to the center of the space. I find myself surrounded by sterile looking metal, though I highly doubt that it's truly sterile.

"What is it?" I ask, anxiety flooding my eyes. I begin to take note of every item in the room, my gaze darting around. The room didn't have much, except sterile metal and examination objects, that didn't look very pleasant at all. He is now wearing a khaki colored suit, complemented by a light turquoise shirt and a black tie. The insignias and stars on his jacket are prominent. Instead of the brown leather he wore before, his suit is now made of cotton or felt. He looks more stiff and formal than before, unable to bend over or move his shoulders comfortably.

"There was something that didn't make sense to me, and I needed to check it myself." He shows a more annoyed expression as he looks up again, his gaze stopping on my chest. I look down too, and the room falls silent once more.

"My men have noticed some... discrepancies while my men cleaned you, let's say," he said, running his hands through his hair and looking at my chest and face. "they mentioned something about scars... on your ribs." He commented, keeping his smug yet dorky expression, his eyes betraying him. No wonder he wore sunglasses around new people.

"What are those scars?" he stuttered, clearly having never seen such scars or any non-alien body covered in tattoos and piercings. Why else would he ask?

"I, uh... had an operation a few years ago," I lied. It was technically true that I had an operation, but I couldn't explain the details. He would be the last person to understand what I had gone through, especially given that it was 1956.

His steps were urgent yet slow as he walked around me, as if I were prey, trying to intimidate me or whatever his plan was. "An operation, you say...? Interesting for a high-value catch, a symbolic one even... Hideous, modified to abnormality, bold, tiny..." He stopped, standing next to me. He was unusually large, twice my width and almost three heads taller. His gaze traveled over my arms, which were covered with tattoos from my chest to my elbows, as well as my legs.

"That's interesting. I even caught someone with human art on their body," he said, wetting his finger to try to wipe a tattoo off.

"I—it's... permanent," I replied. "You can't wipe it off... it's in my skin..."

His demeanor flickered with slight upset, intrigue, and anger. He huffed before wiping his wet thumb on my cotton gown. "You're absolutely fascinating, truly you are. You have human art on your body, such fine hair everywhere, and this small nose... How old are you?"

"I am 26..."

His eyes almost bulged out of his head. "TWENTY-DAMN-SIX!!? How did you—" He whispered something I couldn't quite understand, so I remained silent, saying nothing. "Geez, you're so young; that's..." He rubbed his mouth, absolutely shocked by the revelation. Technically, I was the youngest Russian cosmonaut to go to space and supposed to be helping out an American astronaut, but instead, I was standing in front of an old alien general, who's trying to burn the fact into his memory: 

I was 26, had surgical scars (and some other too), tattoos from shoulder to ankle, and piercings. I still couldn't believe I had managed to pass through, especially in a country like Russia, and end up in space. Usually, people like me wouldn't see Earth from afar, let alone a whole different planet inhabited by green aliens.