Space Oddity II
5 July 2020 07:42![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hellomajortom[Prompt: 5. "Okay, that was a little funny."]
When Tom next woke the lights were gone. He was still strapped down to the bed but he could look around. Things felt better. The burning in his body, that he assumed was the radiation poisoning, had passed. His vision had cleared but a raging headache remained.
This room was different. Still black in all directions but blank and without the weird glowing orb he'd been attached to before. The multitude of hoses that had been in his body were down to two. He wasn't a medical professional, certainly didn't know what these aliens were doing, but he could imagine less hoses might mean recovery. Sanity needed some good news in the chaos. He was in new clothing too. His silver jumpsuit that went under the thicker space gear was gone. In it's place was a white, tight fabric of some kind. He wiggled under the restraints to get his hands on it, tug at the fabric. It reminded him of lycra.
"You were starting to smell."
The high toned words came from up over his shoulder. He hadn't noticed her. That same grotesque looking alien that had been caring for him before. He blinked, confused, partially because of the headache.
"We cleaned your skin."
She was working on something, not looking at him or even in his vicinity. How had she known what he was doing? Though as the words sank in he started to laugh. She meant the aliens had bathed him while he was unconscious. His ideas of violent alien abductions, like those in science fiction, crashed headlong into a mental imagination of these gangly aliens giving him a sponge bath. The absurdity of the situation was quickly outweighing any fears.
He looked over to her about to say something and froze. She stared at him, eyes boring into his skull for the intensity. Then she did something very human, a finger raised to her lips to shush him.
"Your people are too loud." She purred the words out and then turned away.
He couldn't help but hear an angry cat in the little hiss to the tone. It seemed logical that even an alien species might have tonal inflections for emotions. Tom was trying to use anything and everything to distract himself from the fact that he was a prisoner on an alien spacecraft with a headache that was beyond any pain he'd ever felt. Laying back to stare at the ceiling he wondered how long he'd been here. Last time he remembered being awake it was two months, he thought.
"I'm hungry." He said it before he could catch himself. Among the other thoughts was the fact he couldn't remember eating anything since about 5 hours before launch. He couldn't have gone months without eating. His eyes drifted to the tubes wondering if one of them was meant to feed him.
"We do not produce human food."
The tone came emotionless this time but she turned to look at him. The eerie, clear eyelids blinking over the egg yolk colored eyes. Of all the traits, those eyes repulsed him the most, even more than the hairless exaggerated body. She was across the room. A white clad figure against the seamless black walls. Tom swore she touched him. He felt it on his skin but it was impossible. Panic rose as he looked around to see if another alien had come in without noticing but there was nothing. The unnatural feeling had him pulling at the restraints to get away. She said nothing and all but vanished into thin air.
Tom tried to relax but the feelings refused to subside. He barely had time to get through those thoughts before the bed was moving. He screamed in terror and this time a hand covered his mouth. The flesh was smooth and cool, inhuman. Wide-eyed he looked up to see the familiar female face, emotionless expression, but he swore there was disapproval there somewhere even if he couldn't find it in her features. When his screaming stopped the hand came away.
Eyes fixed on her face they felt dry, maybe he forgot to blink in the terror of being touched? She waited, patiently, for what, he wasn't sure. In time, his eyes did make it down to the small tray in her hands and he recognized that she was sitting on the edge of his bed. Again, he was struck by how human she seemed even if at the same time she was absolutely not a human. Alien food, or not, his stomach growled without Tom wanting it to.
"I must leave the restraints." She spoke and held up what looked like a spiky cracker, a 12 pointed star to be exact. Tom hesitated. "The nutrition in these will not harm your body."
The concern amped up as his eyes wavered between food and the alien face. Survival instinct won out and he leaned in to take a bite. This was another disjointed moment. Tom found the action of taking a bite out of held food, from a woman, to be romantic. Except this was the antithesis of anything romantic. This was a creepy looking alien, that may or may not be female, feeding him food that might or might not kill him. The universe felt surreal.
The crackers though weren't bad. Crispy, dry, and oddly sour like soda bread or sourdough. She put the rest of the cracker in his mouth and waited. She seemed to have infinite patience and placid demeanor that couldn't be ruffled. Except when he spoke too loudly. He found his eyes locking on the lobeless, small ears and wondered if maybe it hurt. The same way her voice was so high it could be uncomfortable.
"Who are you?" Tom couldn't help it. If someone was going to, as far as he could tell, be his nurse or doctor he wanted a name. Though he was afraid and couldn't shake it, the truth was he'd seen no violence, didn't think he'd been hurt in anyway. Maybe this was the one in a million friendly alien species?
She didn't seem to understand, so he asked again. "Do you have a name?"
Maybe they didn't? How the hell could he know, but it was worth asking. The sound that came out made him wince. It was high toned but quiet like those humming sounds you sometimes hear but can't for the life of yourself find the source. There were recognizable syllables. Sounds he could put to human phonetics.
"Aletayria." It sounded so rough, and lost a sense of beauty, coming from his voice. It did drive home a concept of how his voice must sound to his captors, hosts, whatever they were. She shrugged at the pronunciation but eventually gave an approving nod. It must have been an acceptable approximation.
Her eyes had fixed on him, unblinking. A flight instinct came and went before he felt the sensation of being questioned. There were no words but it was as if her blank gaze asked one. Tom found it disorienting but the question was clear.
"Major Tom David Jones." He responded but didn't know why he used his full name and rank. Did that even matter here?
"Major." The flawless, but weirdly toned English repeated.
"No." Tom corrected feeling a little bit of comfort in having a human conversation or at least something normal. "Major is what I do."
Confusion appeared in that empty stare. He still couldn't place how such an vacant face was so expressive. "Tom. My name's Tom."
She repeated it and then offered him a small glass of something to drink. He didn't have time to protest before she was tipping it against his lips. The drink was thicker than juice, bitter, sour, vaguely registered as a fruit to his human recollections. It wasn't unpleasant but it was a far more alien food than the crackers had been.
Then she was abruptly standing and walking away. "Sleep, Major Tom." It sounded like a command and a suggestion at the same time but as soon as it was spoke he felt exhausted. No, not exhausted. Heavy and unable to stay awake as if she had shut off his brain and he couldn't do anything else.
When Tom next woke the lights were gone. He was still strapped down to the bed but he could look around. Things felt better. The burning in his body, that he assumed was the radiation poisoning, had passed. His vision had cleared but a raging headache remained.
This room was different. Still black in all directions but blank and without the weird glowing orb he'd been attached to before. The multitude of hoses that had been in his body were down to two. He wasn't a medical professional, certainly didn't know what these aliens were doing, but he could imagine less hoses might mean recovery. Sanity needed some good news in the chaos. He was in new clothing too. His silver jumpsuit that went under the thicker space gear was gone. In it's place was a white, tight fabric of some kind. He wiggled under the restraints to get his hands on it, tug at the fabric. It reminded him of lycra.
"You were starting to smell."
The high toned words came from up over his shoulder. He hadn't noticed her. That same grotesque looking alien that had been caring for him before. He blinked, confused, partially because of the headache.
"We cleaned your skin."
She was working on something, not looking at him or even in his vicinity. How had she known what he was doing? Though as the words sank in he started to laugh. She meant the aliens had bathed him while he was unconscious. His ideas of violent alien abductions, like those in science fiction, crashed headlong into a mental imagination of these gangly aliens giving him a sponge bath. The absurdity of the situation was quickly outweighing any fears.
He looked over to her about to say something and froze. She stared at him, eyes boring into his skull for the intensity. Then she did something very human, a finger raised to her lips to shush him.
"Your people are too loud." She purred the words out and then turned away.
He couldn't help but hear an angry cat in the little hiss to the tone. It seemed logical that even an alien species might have tonal inflections for emotions. Tom was trying to use anything and everything to distract himself from the fact that he was a prisoner on an alien spacecraft with a headache that was beyond any pain he'd ever felt. Laying back to stare at the ceiling he wondered how long he'd been here. Last time he remembered being awake it was two months, he thought.
"I'm hungry." He said it before he could catch himself. Among the other thoughts was the fact he couldn't remember eating anything since about 5 hours before launch. He couldn't have gone months without eating. His eyes drifted to the tubes wondering if one of them was meant to feed him.
"We do not produce human food."
The tone came emotionless this time but she turned to look at him. The eerie, clear eyelids blinking over the egg yolk colored eyes. Of all the traits, those eyes repulsed him the most, even more than the hairless exaggerated body. She was across the room. A white clad figure against the seamless black walls. Tom swore she touched him. He felt it on his skin but it was impossible. Panic rose as he looked around to see if another alien had come in without noticing but there was nothing. The unnatural feeling had him pulling at the restraints to get away. She said nothing and all but vanished into thin air.
Tom tried to relax but the feelings refused to subside. He barely had time to get through those thoughts before the bed was moving. He screamed in terror and this time a hand covered his mouth. The flesh was smooth and cool, inhuman. Wide-eyed he looked up to see the familiar female face, emotionless expression, but he swore there was disapproval there somewhere even if he couldn't find it in her features. When his screaming stopped the hand came away.
Eyes fixed on her face they felt dry, maybe he forgot to blink in the terror of being touched? She waited, patiently, for what, he wasn't sure. In time, his eyes did make it down to the small tray in her hands and he recognized that she was sitting on the edge of his bed. Again, he was struck by how human she seemed even if at the same time she was absolutely not a human. Alien food, or not, his stomach growled without Tom wanting it to.
"I must leave the restraints." She spoke and held up what looked like a spiky cracker, a 12 pointed star to be exact. Tom hesitated. "The nutrition in these will not harm your body."
The concern amped up as his eyes wavered between food and the alien face. Survival instinct won out and he leaned in to take a bite. This was another disjointed moment. Tom found the action of taking a bite out of held food, from a woman, to be romantic. Except this was the antithesis of anything romantic. This was a creepy looking alien, that may or may not be female, feeding him food that might or might not kill him. The universe felt surreal.
The crackers though weren't bad. Crispy, dry, and oddly sour like soda bread or sourdough. She put the rest of the cracker in his mouth and waited. She seemed to have infinite patience and placid demeanor that couldn't be ruffled. Except when he spoke too loudly. He found his eyes locking on the lobeless, small ears and wondered if maybe it hurt. The same way her voice was so high it could be uncomfortable.
"Who are you?" Tom couldn't help it. If someone was going to, as far as he could tell, be his nurse or doctor he wanted a name. Though he was afraid and couldn't shake it, the truth was he'd seen no violence, didn't think he'd been hurt in anyway. Maybe this was the one in a million friendly alien species?
She didn't seem to understand, so he asked again. "Do you have a name?"
Maybe they didn't? How the hell could he know, but it was worth asking. The sound that came out made him wince. It was high toned but quiet like those humming sounds you sometimes hear but can't for the life of yourself find the source. There were recognizable syllables. Sounds he could put to human phonetics.
"Aletayria." It sounded so rough, and lost a sense of beauty, coming from his voice. It did drive home a concept of how his voice must sound to his captors, hosts, whatever they were. She shrugged at the pronunciation but eventually gave an approving nod. It must have been an acceptable approximation.
Her eyes had fixed on him, unblinking. A flight instinct came and went before he felt the sensation of being questioned. There were no words but it was as if her blank gaze asked one. Tom found it disorienting but the question was clear.
"Major Tom David Jones." He responded but didn't know why he used his full name and rank. Did that even matter here?
"Major." The flawless, but weirdly toned English repeated.
"No." Tom corrected feeling a little bit of comfort in having a human conversation or at least something normal. "Major is what I do."
Confusion appeared in that empty stare. He still couldn't place how such an vacant face was so expressive. "Tom. My name's Tom."
She repeated it and then offered him a small glass of something to drink. He didn't have time to protest before she was tipping it against his lips. The drink was thicker than juice, bitter, sour, vaguely registered as a fruit to his human recollections. It wasn't unpleasant but it was a far more alien food than the crackers had been.
Then she was abruptly standing and walking away. "Sleep, Major Tom." It sounded like a command and a suggestion at the same time but as soon as it was spoke he felt exhausted. No, not exhausted. Heavy and unable to stay awake as if she had shut off his brain and he couldn't do anything else.
