First result

So you know what's going on, I posted a bulletin a few weeks ago, asking people to send me a sentence or two so that I could write something from it. My cousin Alex sent me the first line. Here is the resulting story.

"This is fantastic! ... but why is it shaped like Sonic?"
Zhang Li was excited, but stumped. That couldn't be what it was. It was far too large - at least the size of a small hill. The colors were right, though. He turned his head to look at his comrades - they were all looking back at him, with the exception of the cultural officer, who was busily but quietly speaking into a transmitter.
The captain, his face creased into his best likeness of unconcern, asked, "What is a Sonic?" Li almost shook his head with pity - he couldn't believe he was working with such country bumpkins. How did they ever make it out here? Country bumpkins belonged on the earth, with their farms, not up here among the stars.
"Sir, it is an American restaurant chain. You drive into the parking lot, and then they bring you food. The service is fast, and often they have serving girls wearing roller-skates. We have many in the cities."
Nodding sagely, the captain said, "Oh. I see." Li knew he didn't. He was a bumbling fool.
Turning to view the..well, the object, he would have to call it; he said, "So, Sir, why would this be here?" He waited for the foolish response his captain would surely make. Privately, he was burning with curiosity - the astrogeologist in him badly wanted to see what was in this...thing. Could it really be a Sonic? What was it made of? As large as it was, it could probably be mined, and it was surely full of valuable metals. He might be promoted for this discovery! He might even get the attention of senior Party leaders! But he had been on this ship for months now, forced to tolerate this man whom his comrades all looked up to. They were all so backwards. This man had grown up on a pig farm. He was not a stoic leader! He was nothing!
The deck was quiet. Zhang felt his skin crawl a little, and then little beads of sweat crept out under his arms. He wondered if he'd gone too far - the captain might have taken offense, and so it was with some hesitation and caution that he turned his head.
The captain smiled down beautifically from his chair. His fingers splayed out and came together, looking like the fangs of a particularly nasty predator. There they rested, on his desk, and Zhang noticed that they were in fact very muscular. The rumors he'd heard crept into his mind, like spiders from a black pit. Whispers filled his mind - of the captain killing a man bare-handed - that he had once shoved his fingers into a man's eyes, and then held the blinded fellow until his shrieking stopped. After that no one agreed what happened, except that the man had died. Zhang shuddered a little, and hoped it went unnoticed.
The captain finally spoke: "You are the the science officer. You tell me." His smile had gone unbroken. Zhang's heart jumped at each word, anticipating some sort of horror: he was relieved that it had not turned out badly, yet.
"Sir, I," he started, his voice shaking, "...that's not my specialty Sir!"
"Well," the captain said, "it isn't mine, either. If you can't do what you're here for, I fail to see why I should keep you."
"Sir! I...Sir! I'll look into it. Send me in, Sir!" Blackness was devouring Zhang's mind - things had been so good only seconds ago, and now he was facing possible dismissal, or maybe worse. Zhang decided the captain probably did deserve more respect.
"Very well, Zhang." Being addressed by name was never a good sign. "I want you to investigate this for me." That wasn't so bad; in fact, this was a pretty good turn of events. He could investigate the composition of the object! He could prove his usefulness! Zhang's vision became less black, and he noticed the cultural officer scowling, clenching his communicator. That bastard! Zhang hated those Party tools. They were always looking for people to rat out. Well, his luck hadn't run out, yet. He was born lucky. That little rat of a man would have to find someone else to report on for today.
"Even before you said it was an American restaurant, Zhang, I suspected this might have something to do with their accident. For that reason alone it is worthy of investigation." The captain's gaze was faraway, and Zhang wondered if he was remembering the exploratory mission in America. The captain had first gained fame there, after all.
"Sir, are you saying -"
"I've heard enough from you, Zhang. Gather your team and go." And though he hated being dressed down, hated being addressed by his family name, he decided this was best. He had other things to think about, now - like the idea of solving the American mystery. That was exciting. He would surely win fame today.
And then it occurred to him - his captain had ordered him into a Sonic. "What a ridiculous universe," Zhang thought, as he made his way to his quarters.