Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kree battleships always had interesting (and valuable) cargo, with the added benefit of getting to kill the Kree (who pretty much everyone in the galaxy agreed were terrible). Stakar had figured out early on in his pirate career how to guess which ones were transporting slaves and learned to avoid them. Although freeing slaves certainly made him (and most decent people) feel better, it simply wasn’t worth the hassle in the business sense.

Not to mention, there was always the issue of dealing with the slaves that were too weak to save. Killing them was kindest of course, but it made his stomach turn. So Stakar avoided the slave trader’s ships with a passion. Of course, if he ever saw one in Nova Space he made sure to report it to a few contacts he had in the Corps. There were always Corpsmen who were willing to take bribes in exchange for giving the Ravagers information, and if he offered them the location of Kree ships without asking anything in return they were thrilled.

So he avoided slave ships and the whole practice altogether.

But, unfortunately, the Kree (or whatever form of cosmic deity he’d most recently pissed off) had other plans for him. Stakar buzzed the door of the commander’s room, stepping inside, blaster held lightly at his side. He didn’t see himself needing it - he’d already taken out the commander when they’d boarded, so the room ought to be empty - and even if he were attacked, he’d been fine without the blaster. Intimidating people was just easiest when you could hold up a blaster and threaten to shoot out their brains, yelling “I’ll kill you with my light powers” typically just got you laughed at.

Something shifted in the dark. Stakar frowned and let his Solar Wings flare to life, casting strange shadows across the room. “Who’s there?” he demanded. “Come out!”

There was a rattle from the back of the room, then something darted toward Stakar. Startled, he wouldn’t have had time to jump out of the way if not for the fact that the being suddenly stopped, clawing at his neck.

Oh. Oh shit.

His would-be attacker was a battle slave, and the only reason he wasn’t currently eating Stakar’s face off was that he’d reached the end of the chain that was holding him. The slave snarled, revealing a mouth missing most of its teeth.

Stakar lowered his blaster, having no desire to attack the slave. He - and Stakar was fairly certain it was a male, just going off the genitalia that he’d gotten an eyeful of since the slave was naked - appeared to be young, although malnutrition made it difficult to determine his exact age. Stakar reached to the side, turning on the ceiling light and allowing the light from his solar wings to die down. Hopefully, he’d come off as less of a threat that way. “Can you understand me?”

The boy nodded, watching him with visible mistrust. How long had it been since he’d seen a non-Kree who wasn’t a slave? Stakar swallowed back memories of his own children, forcing himself to focus on the moment. “Can you talk?”

This time, he shook his head, still pulling back, teeth bared. Stakar remembered something he’d read once, about how some slaves were fitted with collars to make it difficult or even downright impossible for them to talk. He knelt in the door, trying to make himself appear smaller and less threatening, sitting aside his blaster.

“The Kree are dead. Your owners are gone.”

The boy tilted his head, red eyes filled with confusion as though he had no idea what that meant. With better lighting, Stakar could see that the boy had the same blue colored skin as most of the Kree, but he doubted the kid was of the same race. For starters, Kree didn’t enslave the blue-skinned members of their race, considering them too ‘pure’ and secondly, he’d never seen a Kree with red eyes before.

He didn’t know what to say, clearly, the kid still wanted to attack him. “Are you cold?” Stakar could feel the chill, even through his layers.

The boy shook his head.

“Don’t lie.”

His reaction was immediate, dropping to his knees and pushing his forehead to the ground, licking at the cold flooring. Stakar had a feeling that if he was close enough, the kid would lick his boots to beg an apology. “I’m not upset. Just tell me the truth: are you cold?”

This time, the boy nodded, looking up at Stakar with confusion clearly written into his face. Stakar shrugged off his coat, tossing it to the boy. “Put that on.” He waited until the boy had done as instructed, snuggling into the worn leather, before asking, “Have you ever seen a person like me before?”

A shake of his head.

Good.

Stakar had an idea for how he could deal with him then.

“My people don’t believe in slavery,” he explained slowly. “We don’t own people. Do you want to come with me?” Of course, the kid was going with him whether he wanted to or not, but Stakar figured it would be best to give him the illusion of a choice. “Tell me the truth, I won’t be mad as long as you don’t lie.”

He could see the gears frantically turning in the boy’s mind, thinking over his options and trying to decide what he wanted. “No one’s ever gonna chain you up again,” he promised.

The slave nodded, trying to move closer only to be stopped by his collar. He looked pitifully at Stakar as he pulled against it, eyes begging him to remove it. It was clear that the slave thought he was being mocked for his inability to move closer. “Don’t attack me,” Stakar said, crawling closer. As soon as he was close enough, the kid practically crawled into his arms, his whole body shaking. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

He ran his hand along the kid’s head, feeling some sort of bony protrusion under his fingers. The slave leaned into the touch, although the firm set of his jaw told Stakar it was a motion he’d been taught rather than enjoying the touch. He tried not to dwell on it too much. “I won’t hurt you,” he promised, setting his fingers to work on the collar.

Quickly he decided that the thing was beyond his ability to remove, instead, he unhooked the chain. “I can’t get this off right now. But my friend Martinex - he’s a scientist - he can get this off.”

The boy nodded, something telling Stakar that he didn’t believe him, and slipped off his lap, staring at him expectantly. “Can you walk?” Stakar asked, standing and holding out a hand to help him up.

The boy flinched, clearly expecting to be struck.

“I’m not going to hit you.” As tempted as he was to just pull his hand back, Stakar kept it where it was. “Put your hand in mine. I’m going to help you stand.”

The boy did as instructed, and Stakar pulled him to his feet, wrapping an arm around him protectively. He flinched at the first touch, but then leaned into Stakar. “Everything’s gonna be fine,” Stakar murmured, leading him out the door. He played with his comm, pressing the open call button and saying, “I found a slave. He may be hurt. Marty meet met in the medical bay.”

Aleta tried to buzz him back almost immediately, “Stakar-”

The boy flinched at the unfamiliar voice, and Stakar patted his shoulder. “I’ll explain everything later, Aleta-girl,” he promised, then turned off the comm.

The slave looked up at him with wide eyes and Stakar offered him a warm smile. “It’s fine,” he murmured. “Everything’s gonna be fine.” The other didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded into Stakar’s shoulder anyway, clearly terrified of everyone around him.

Martinex met them at the airlock where they’d linked up with the Kree ship to board, taking one look at the slave and asking, “How is that kid still alive?”

The boy pulled back, a shiver running through his body, but Stakar caught him and gently pulled him back. “He’s not threatening you. He just thinks you look like shit. Which, to be fair, you do.”

Stakar offered him a smile and the boy tried to return it, although it came out as more of a toothy grimace. Close enough. Patting his shoulder, Stakar motioned to Martinex. “This is my friend, Martinex. Martinex this is - kid.” Stakar glanced down at the boy, asking, “Do you have a name?”

The kid shrugged. Oh well, it wasn't as though he could tell them even if he did know. 

“We’ll work on that.” He patted the boy’s shoulder and led him back into the Starhawk, toward the medical bay with Martinex trailing along behind them. Stakar fiddled with his comm, pulling up a line to Charlie. “I’m with the kid, can you handle things from here?”

“Of course,” was Charlie’s smooth reply. “Worry about the kid. Krugarr and I can handle this.”

“Thanks.” Stakar ended the call, focusing again on the frightened child huddled into his side. “Kid.” He waited until the boy was looking up at him to say, “My friends - Martinex, Aleta, Krugarr, Charlie-27, and Mainframe - you can trust them all with your life.”

The boy looked at Martinex’ back, his eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded. “Marty’s gonna try and get the collar off. He’s good at what he does.”

“I’m the best,” Marty broke in.

“He’s also a pain in my ass.”

They reached the medical ward where Aleta was leaned against the doorframe, eyes slightly narrowed although she hid it as soon as she saw them, no doubt for the benefit of the kid. “This is my wife,” Stakar said, motioning to her.

“Aleta,” she said, offering the boy a rare, warm smile. He offered a shy smile in return.

“Go with Marty. I need to speak with her.” Realizing how terrified the boy looked, he quickly added, “I’ll be right here and then I’ll catch up.”

He gave a quick nod, then darted forward to latch onto Martinex’ arm. “Oh,” the Pluvain said in surprise, looking down at him. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Stakar watched as the two walked off together, the boy glancing over his shoulder just before they rounded a corner and ducked out of sight. Stakar motioned for him to go on.

“Stakar.”

He gave Aleta a tired smile. “What is it, girl?”

She wrapped her hand around the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his face down until their noses and foreheads touched. “He’s not John, Stakar,” she said softly, worry filling her eyes.

“I know,” he whispered, closing his eyes and leaning into her gentle touch. “I can’t bring them back and I’m sorry - I’m so sorry - but maybe I can save him?”

Chapter Text

“Do we know what he is yet?” If the kid knew, he certainly wasn’t telling them. Of course, given that he’d apparently spent his entire life - or a great deal of it - as a Kree battle slave Stakar wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t know that much about himself. 

“Centauran.” Martinex had finally finished taking the kid’s collar off, and it was in pieces on the table beside the captain. The kid was sequestered with a worried medic, who had taken one look at him and run everyone out of the room. He pulled up a photo of a Centaurian on the viewscreen, and Stakar simply raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, they’re both blue.” The being that was projected on the wall was a great deal taller and leaner than the rescued slave, although, that could be explained by malnutrition. They also had a flowing crest from the top of their head down toward their back, and razor-sharp teeth. They were also listed as being ‘humaniod marsupials’ with incredibly heightened senses. “I don’t see any other similarities.”

“Kid’s got a pouch.”

“You checked? Did you check his genitals too?” Stakar laughed, watching as Martinex’s crystal eyes narrowed. “Aww, you’re blushing.” Pluvains didn’t actually blush - you needed blood in order to do that - but his face was easy to read once you knew what you were looking for.

“He’s a Centauran,” Marty grumbled. “I checked the bio-scanners you pervert.”

Stakar looked back to the scans, reading over the information shown. “They’re a pretty primitive people,” he said after a moment. “Don’t interact with the Galaxy too much.”

“There could be a reward for his return.”

Stakar was quick to answer, “We don’t know enough about him to find it.” He’d not even known the boy a full cycle - he wasn’t even sure he’d known him two full hours - but he already knew more than enough to know that he wanted to keep the kid.

Martinex nodded, seeming to read Stakar’s expression. “I’ll see what I can find. We recovered a data chip from his collar.”

Stakar nodded, wiping away the Centaurian datasheet with a wave of his hand. “Is he talking yet?”

Marty shook his head. “I tried to get him to. Either he’s stubborn or-”

“Or what?”

Marty tapped his foot and refused to meet Stakar’s eyes. “There’s a possibility he’s always had a collar on.” A pause. “He may not know how to talk.” 

Oh. Shit.

“What do you mean he may not know how to talk? He understood every word I said to him.”

Martinex still wasn’t looking at his eyes, instead staring intently at the floor, as though all the answers to life could be found within in dingy grey tiles. “Like Krugarr. He can understand everything we say, but he doesn’t talk.”

“That’s because Krugarr doesn’t have a mouth.”

Marty seemed to wilt. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Stakar does know what Martinex meant. He’s just choosing to ignore the possibility that the kid doesn’t know how to talk. “I’m gonna check on him. Can you see what’s on his collar chip?”

“Of course.” Martinex eyed Stakar for a long moment, then picked up the chip and walked away. “I’ll need Mainframe’s help. Comm me if you need anything.”

Stakar watched him go, slightly miffed by his friend’s obvious desire to get away from him - surely Marty wasn’t that offended by the groping joke? Sure it was tasteless but Stakar had said much worse - and decided that if Marty was ignoring him he was ignoring Marty. He punched in Charlie’s number on his comm.

“Bridge is fine,” the other rumbled before he could even get out any words to ask. “We’re almost done extracting the rest of the goods from the Kree ship.”

“The sooner we get out of here the happier I’m going to be. As soon as we’re done set a course for anywhere but here. Maybe somewhere fun, the crew hasn’t had shore leave in a while.” The fact that giving his men shore leave would leave Stakar with more time to help the kid was completely beside the point.

“Of course.” At least Charlie wasn’t arguing with him or ignoring him. Stakar glared in the direction of Marty’s back, even though the other was long gone. Then Charlie said, “Aleta was here.”

“She was?” She was allowed to be on the bridge of course. They were co-captains. She could be anywhere she wanted. She just usually avoided the bridge, choosing to hold court with a small group of women in a forgotten rec room on the bottom deck. Stakar might love Aleta and hope she never left him (again), but he wasn’t foolish enough to think she’d stick around forever. He knew that one day he’d wake up and she and her small court would be gone.

She’d come back though.

She always did.

“Yes. Asked me if I knew anything about your newest, ah, is he crew?”

Charlie probably didn’t care about the kid. Well, he cared, but not enough to be interrogating Stakar at that exact moment. And with Aleta so specifically mentioned, it was almost as if Charlie was staring right at her as he was coming up with his story. The man was terrible at lying. “She’s standing next to you, isn’t she?”

“It’s a valid question,” Aleta snapped, her voice cracking through the comm. “Are you trying to make him crew? Stakar he’s half feral and liable to bite someone!” The words, 'and you're too attached,' hung in the air between them.

“You’re allowed to ask me yourself.”

“I’m worried about you!”

“Worried?” Stakar pretended to laugh. “Aleta-Girl, I didn’t know that was in your range of emotions. I’m impressed.”

He heard Aleta huff and imagined that she had a lot she wanted to say to him. Thankfully Charlie cut in, no doubt knowing that sitting in on a fight between his co-captains was a long and tedious process, “Can this wait? I need to focus on the Kree ship.”

Most people wouldn’t dare to tell Aleta what to do, but Charlie knew her well enough to know that her solar powers only became truly dangerous when linked with Stakar, and since Stakar wasn’t going to let her attack Charlie, she’d only have her fists and blasters. Charlie could toss Aleta far enough to at least shut the bridge doors on her and give her time to cool down if needed.

Or she’d find Stakar and fight him.

Either way, Charlie knew he was safe enough to risk pissing her off. Thankfully, Aleta huffed and stomped off, shouting something to one of her girls before her voice faded away.

“Tell me if there’s any change,” Stakar said, and cut the call, hoping Aleta and her girl weren’t on their way to find him and yell at him. Even Aleta knew better than to bring fights to the medbay. Usually.

Stakar slumped into a chair, propping his feet on the chair beside him, and pulled up data on Centaurans on his data pad. He didn’t find much of interest in them and soon found himself browsing a page on Kree slavery practices. That made his stomach turn and he soon shut off the pad, pinching the bridge of his nose and willing away the horrific images he’d managed to conjure.

He was thankfully rescued from his morbid thoughts by the medic that had taken charge of the kid appearing, the A-Chiltarian towering over him. “Captain?”

“How’s the kid?”

The medic paused, then offered, “He’s alive.”

“A good start.”

“From what I can tell he’s been wearing that collar - or one just like it - for a very long time. I was able to get a few sounds out of him, but nothing that seemed to be words. He’s also been fed exclusively on nutri-shots, so his digestive system is in shambles. I can fix it, but it will take time.” The A-Chiltarian rocked on his feet, long blue fingers drumming on his data pad. “He’s had some of his teeth removed and his Tahlei - that’s the bone crest his people usually have - has been sawn off.”

Stakar almost asked what wasn’t broken or damaged, but instead focused on the one thing that confused him the most, “What do you mean fed nutri-shots?”

He tilted his head, studying Stakar with his strange red eyes. “He’s never had food or water. Everything he needs to live is injected into him daily.”

Stakar winced, finally starting to grasp exactly how bad the situation was. Of course, he’d known it would be bad, but this was worse. Much worse. A voice in the back of his head whispered that he should have killed him when he had the chance. You still could, you know.

He swallowed, standing and pushing the voice away. “What can you do for him?”

“I’ve given him another nutri-shot until I can work out how to help his system adjust to food. I’ve also given him some anti biotics and something to calm him.”

“You drugged him?”

The medic stiffened at the accusation. “His heart-rate and blood pressure rose when I began monitoring him. It seemed the kindest option given the marks of cruelty on his body.” 

“May I see him?”

“He’s resting but yes, I see no reason why you shouldn’t.”

Stakar nodded and passed the medic, giving him a quiet thanks before pushing into the kid’s room. The Centaurian was stretched out on his back, wearing Stakar’s jacket over a medical gown. Something told the Ravager he was never getting that jacket back. His red eyes flicked to Stakar as the Ravager entered. “You’re safe here,” he promised. For someone who was supposed to be on an anti-anxiety pill, he sure seemed wound up.

The boy nodded, trying to push himself up.

“Hey, stay where you are.” Stakar offered him a smile and rested his hand on his shoulder. Without meaning to his hand slipped to the slave’s throat, fingers curiously running over the skin where the collar had chaffed it. The boy stiffened, letting out a low series of chirps, eyes widening slightly.

Stakar pulled his hand back immediately. “Sorry.” His first thought - hope - was that the chirps were words, but knowing that both he and the kid had functioning translators he shot that hope down. It was nothing more than frightened noises, like a scream or whimper.

“Can you speak?”

The boy shook his head, letting out a soft whistle to punctuate his words. “Can you do anything besides whistle and click?" The information he'd read on the Centaurians had said that they could learn to speak Xandarin, although most just used translators like the rest of the galaxy. He didn't have any words for it to translate though, so Xandarin would have to do. "Try to say yes.”

“Yu-ss.” The end of the word turned into a strained whistle and he frowned. 

It was still much better than Stakar had been expecting, and he beamed. “That's good.” The boy grinned back, flashing missing and broken teeth.

Stakar’s wrist pinged, interrupting their strange bonding session. A single message from Martinex showed up. No first name. Last name: Udonta. We’re not giving him back to his people. 

Stakar pinged him back. I thought that was your favorite idea.

Martinex’s reply was simple and to the point: over my dead flarkin’ body.

Well. That warranted investigation. They must have found something of interest if he was that touchy about it. “I’ll be back,” Stakar told the kid - Udonta, his name was Udonta - and stepped into the hall to comm his first mate.

Chapter Text

“Martinex here,” the Pluvian reported as soon as the comm clicked on.

“I’m here too!” Mainframe squeaked in the background, their voice abnormally grating and seeming to mimic one of Xandar’s better-known politicians. If he were in a better mood, Stakar would have quipped that it was probably illegal to imitate one of the Nova Officers. 

“I’ve had a change of heart,” Stakar said, leaning back against the wall and trying to appear nonchalant. “I think we should give the kid back to his people.”

“No,” was Martinex’ firm reply.

“Is he joking?” Mainframe asked worriedly. “He’s joking, right? I can’t tell, he’s too good at this, you told him about-”

“He had better be joking,” Martinex replied, his voice still several octaves lower than Stakar was used to.

“You’re the one who wanted to send him back,” Stakar reminded Martinex. He could already imagine his first mate’s scowl and the rude gestures that Mainframe was no doubt being subjected to.

“I changed my mind.” Martinex sighed, clattering echoing in the background of the comm call. “He only has a family name - Udonta - and-” Martinex sighed. “Can he hear me?”

Stakar glanced over his shoulder, Udonta was sitting stiffly on the bed, his red eyes darting frantically around the small room. Thankfully, the medical rooms were soundproofed. “No.”

“His parents sold him.” 

The words that spilled out of Stakar’s mouth earned him an impressed whistle from Mainframe. “That’s ancient, Cap! Where did you learn that?” the android asked.

“What kind of parent sells their kids?” Stakar snarled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Shitty ones,” Martinex replied.

Mainframe piped up with a few insults of their own, in the same old dialect Stakar had used initially. 

Martinex tutted. “You two should wash your mouths out with soap.”

“I don’t have a mouth,” Mainframe pointed out. There was a clearly audible thud, and Stakar pictured Martinex thumping the android on the head (which technically was their only body part). 

“By the Worldmind, you’re acting like children.” Stakar shook his head, catching a glimpse of blue out of the corner of his eye. “Did you find anything else? Anything that won’t lead to me tracking down and murdering Centaurans?”

“He’s 20 standard years old, although that’s still fairly young for his people. He’s also malnourished - although I don’t need his collar chip to know that - and will probably never get any taller.”

“The info you pulled said Centaurans are a tall race.”

Mainframe pipped up, “Cross-checking his sale records with his birth records lead us to believe that he hadn’t fully developed when he was sold. Marsupials are supposed to stay in their father’s pouch to finish development-”

Martinex cut in before they could go on to provide information that, while relevant, would take far too long to list. “Listen: the kid - Udonta, whatever we’re calling him - is ruined. Are we sure we’re the right place to keep him?” The implication was clear: he needs professional help and the Ravagers probably did too. 

“What other option do we have?” Stakar asked bitterly, folding his arms across his chest.

“The Nova-”

Stakar cut the call before Martinex could even imagine finishing that sentence. He pinged a written message through to his first mate, not trusting himself to speak aloud without losing control of himself, I don’t trust Nova Corps to take care of their own kind. Find a better option or the kid stays.

Of course, there weren’t better options. Returning him to his people was a no go - they’d probably turn right back around and resell him - and even if Stakar wasn’t so opposed to Nova Corps orphanges, Aleta would murder anyone who suggested it. Growing up under Nova watch - and meeting one another there - had left both of them with little trust for the Corps ability to care for children.

No matter how much Stakar hated himself for what had happened to his own children, he hated the Nova Corps more. Giving Udonta to them wasn’t going to be an option.

Stakar rolled his shoulders, feeling a tension related headache coming on. There was a long list of things he ought to be doing and standing in a hallway pittying himself certainly wasn’t on the list. Visiting Udonta wasn’t on the list either, but it was what he chose to do, turning around and stepping back into the kid’s room, grabbing a chair and pulling it over by the bed.

He didn’t miss Udonta flinching at the sound of the chair dragging, or the way his eyes bugged when Stakar entered.

“My crew was able to pull some information on you. Your name is Udonta.”

“OO-doo-tuh,” he attempted, barely able to force his lips to contract the proper way to form the sounds.

“Very close,” Stakar lied.

“Has anyone seen the Captain?” Mainframe asked, the robotic head swivelling around on it’s axis to stare around the mess hall as though Stakar was going to jump out of the wall at anytime. “Is he upset by my cursing? I could call and appologise. I would hate for a few words to be the end of our relationship-”

Unable to take it anymore, Martinex shoved the head, causing them to roll off the table and thump to the floor. “Shut up, Mainframe.”

“Owww.”

“You don’t feel pain.”

“I feel rejection.”

“And a flair for the dramatic.”

The andriod had no responce to that, sending out robotic hands to pull themselves back up onto the table. Martinex sighed, pushing away his half-eaten meal. “I don’t like this," he grumbled.

“I know. Usually, it’s Aleta who’s being pissy and hormonal.”

Martinex raised an eyebrow. “Don’t call her hormonal. The last crewmember who called her that got jettisoned out an airlock. I don't have time to find another lab assistant.” It was a mathmatical equation, as much as anything else that the scientist was used to dealing with. Hormones = kids. Mentioning kids around Aleta = death. Likewise, mentioning the Nova around Stakar = problems. Big problems. Solar Flare sized ones occasionally. 

Usually, Martinex was bright enough not to mention the Nova Corps around Stakar (whose grudge against them was truly impressive, Aleta’s was no worse than her grudge against most people).

It seemed he had miscalculated.

“I don’t like the kid being here.”

“Oh.” Mainframe’s hands poked at Martinex’ abandoned meal, no doubt running some sort of scan on it to determine what their friend was putting in his mouth. Martinex usually figured he was better off not knowing what he was eating. “We can’t send him anywhere.”

“That’s the problem!" he hissed. "Stakar’s gotten attached and it’s upsetting everyone.” Stakar liked kids, but he’d never taken his liking for them further than playing with stranger’s kids in parks or putting the ‘no kids’ rule in the code. He’d never tried to adopt one before.

“What does Aleta think of him?”

“Some days she wants to strangle him and some days she wants to fuck him.”

Mainframe beeped in confusion, their processors working through what Martinex had said. Then they said, “I meant the kid.”

“I haven’t asked her.” He didn’t need to ask her to know that Aleta most likely did not want the kid to be anywhere near her. Martinex had seen her flinch when she saw Stakar playing with kids, had seen the reccords of the surgery to ensure she never had more kids. People dealt with trauma very differently, although, at the end of the day, they were both just trying to prevent the trajety from occuring again: Stakar by protecting kids and Aleta by trying to keep kids as far from them both as possible.

“What about Charlie?” Mainframe claimed that they’d forgotten how emotions worked, but Martinex knew that was complete tripe and the andriod just liked to get his input on it.

“I am unsure.” The kid had been a Battle Slave, and to have survived for as long as he had he must have been good at it. Even if the Kree were using him for other forms of entertainment - and Martinex had seen those records on his collar chip - it was clear he'd seen a lot of fighting. Charlie would probably want to spar with him. It might even do the kid some good as long as he figured out that he didn't half to fight anyone to the death. 

“Krugarr?”

“Also unsure.” Krugarr would probably like the kid. He’d find his fascinating and trail after him with wide eyes all while going on and on about the ‘ripples’ and ‘echoes’ that he sent off. Martinex didn’t believe in magic - or, at least that was what he told people - but Krugarr did have a way of seeing people’s auras. He couldn’t begin to imagine how strange Udonta’s must look. He also figured that the last thing the kid needed was to be studied by anyone.

“I want him to stay.”

If Martinex had pupils, he would have rolled his eyes. Instead, he just recoiled in horror. “Why?”

“He needs us. Like I needed you to fix me after I was broken and sold to that scrapper, and Stakar and Aleta are symbiotic even when they claim to hate each other, and how Krugarr needs us to translate for him and Charlie needs people who see him as more than muscle.”

“And what do I need you lot for?” Martinex grumbled, flicking the head with a crystaline nail. No one had invited them to run an analysis on all the ways that the Ravagers were no more mentally stable than a former battle slave. 

Mainframe’s eyes glinted mischeiviously. “Because your heart isn’t as stone as the rest of you.”

His eyes narrowed. For someone who claimed to not understand emotions, Mainframe had hit on a good number of sore spots. The android needed to give themself more credit.

“That’s what Stakar says anyway,” the android buzzed. “Aleta thinks you imprinted on Stakar and would jump into a wormhole after him.”

“It would be fascinating to study the inside of a wormhole,” he countered.

“You’d die!” Mainframe objected. “And then who would fix me if I got deactivated again?”

“Fix your damn self.” 

Chapter Text

Aleta was alone.

She’d run off the rest of the stragglers - her ‘girls’ as Stakar so creatively called them - and sat in the darkness of the forgotten rec room she’d laid claim to years ago. She needed silence, which she was greatly enjoying until the door opened and Charlie ducked his head inside. “Permission to enter?”

“You’re already in, you know.”

He lumbered inside, sitting on the floor rather than testing out the durability of one of the chairs. It was probably for the best, they’d learned years ago that most chairs weren’t meant for someone of his size. Hauling a replacement down to the old rec room would just be annoying. “You’re brooding.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Aleta glared at him, breaking the silence again to ask, “Did my husband send you?”

“Is he your husband again? I lose track.”

He was. They’d re-renewed their vows as Charlie was more than aware. He’d been there for crying out loud. “You’re a dick.”

“I’ve always had it.” He patted his crotch with a grin.

The most frustrating thing about Charlie - in Aleta’s mind, most people considered it one of his better qualities - was his inability to be drawn into arguments. Bar fights, tussles with customers or clients, brawls among the crew, illegal street boxing - anything physical and violent you couldn’t keep him out of. But when it came to fights with words he refused to step up to the plate, no matter how much Aleta goaded him.

“Where’s Marty?” she huffed, pushing herself up, a bottle of whiskey swinging from her hand. The Pluvian she could fight with. He wasn’t as fun as Stakar - swing a fist at Martinex and he’d probably jump under a table (or you'd break your hand on his face) - but he would quite happily yell back if she pushed the right buttons.

“With Mainframe, working on something of Udonta’s.”

“Udonta?” It took a moment for Aleta to process what he was saying. “Is that the slave?” She took a swig from her drink and felt the burn as it slid down her throat. “Damn,” she muttered, mostly to herself, “he named it?”

“You do not like him.”

“My husband or his newest pet?”

Charlie laughed, swiping Aleta’s bottle from her and downing half of it in one gulp. “Both, I suppose.”

Aleta snatched her drink back from him, making sure to cuff him upside the head. “He’s already attached. We don’t need any more kids around.” They’d just die, after all. Charlie’s eyes saddened and he patted her shoulder, mindful of his strength for once. Aleta resisted the urge to shout at him for being stupid and sentimental. She was the one who’d brought up the kids after all.

Tara. Sita. John.

As little as Aleta and Stakar talked about them - or any part of their past - word got out. Stakar talked about them more than Aleta did, he claimed it helped. He even went so far as to suggest that she should try talking to someone sometime. But her method was to keep them in a small, private place near her heart, where they were hers alone, not his.

“Something bad’s going to happen,” Aleta vowed, gulping the rest of the bottle in one swig. “Something with that boy and it’s going to destroy him.” She paused, looking at the now empty bottle and wondering if it was worth finding another. “It’s going to destroy us all.”

“You’re being melodramatic.”

She probably was. But there was still a creeping suspicion in her chest that things Stakar loved never seemed to stick around for long. 

Stakar hadn’t considered the logistics of someone never having touched food before, but thankfully the medic, Arc, had caught him before he could accidentally give him something to eat.

“He said his stomach’s hurting,” Stakar explained, feeling slightly put off by Arc’s horrified face. “I thought food would help.” Udonta hadn't said anything so much as he had pointed at his stomach when asked if anything was bothering him, but it was close enough. 

“With all due respect, Captain, food is the last thing he needs.”

“That’s fair.”

Arc tilted his head and sighed, pulling at the blue fur on his fingers nervously. “I’ve given him a shot to get his organs working again - without being used for so long, his stomach has likely shut down - which is the cause of the pain.”

“They hurt because they shut down?”

“They hurt because he’s never used them before. The shot I gave him is waking them up.” Arc sighed and reached for something on the wall behind his desk. Stakar took the opportunity to spare a glance over his reading material, unsurprisingly, it was all on Centaurians. “Give him this,” he said, passing Stakar a cup. “It’s just water with a bit of nutrients. See how he takes it.” Something in Arc’s eyes said that he half expected Udonta to spit most of it back up.

Joy.

Stakar took the drink with a nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Udonta was sitting up, looking around him with interest when Stakar entered his room, but as soon as he saw Stakar he slumped back, looking at the floor.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yuh.” At least he had managed to remember that word, even if it was the only word that Stakar had managed to teach him so far. It was a start, even if it was a slow one.

But Stakar wasn’t convinced that he was magically feeling better, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he sat beside Udonta’s cot, dropping the cup Arc had given him onto a table. “Are you lying?”

It was the kind of question he would have posed to one of his friends - Aleta, Mainframe, Krugarr, Charlie 27, or Martinex - he hadn’t considered the impact it would have on the mind of the fragile rescued slave.

He also hadn’t considered how quickly Udonta could move when he was frightened.

The Centaurian practically threw himself to the ground at Stakar’s feet, pushing his forehead to the floor and licking at the ground. It was just as he had done in the cell earlier - or was it the day before? Stakar hadn’t slept and had lost track of time - but this time, the captain’s feet were within reach. Before he could do process what was going on, Udonta was pressing frightened kisses to Stakar’s boots as well. When Stakar stepped back he flinched, clearly expecting a kick, and managed to whimper, “Sor-rey.” 

Kneeling beside him, Stakar placed his hand on his shoulder and ignored his flinch. “Hey, kid. Look at me.” He waited until Udonta was able to lift his head and meet his eyes, then he reached out and gently stroked his forehead. “I’m not angry. I’m not going to hurt you. No one is going to hurt you. I know you don’t understand. But please, try.”

“Tr-y,” he sounded out.

Stakar offered him an encouraging smile, wrapping an arm around Udonta’s frail shoulder and rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back into bed,” he said, pulling them both to their feet. Udonta leaned into Stakar, seeming to cling to the comfort of a gentle touch. Humoring him, Stakar settled himself on the bed beside Udonta, letting the other bask in the attention as he pointed to the cup. “That’s for you.”

Udonta tipped his head back, staring up at Stakar with confusion clearly written on his face. Stakar picked up the cup. “It’s a drink,” he explained. “Do you know what that is?”

There was a slight nod, and Stakar pressed the cup into Udonta’s hand, wrapping his fragile blue fingers around it and tapping his finger against the straw. “Suck.”

Udonta’s response to that word was instant, shrinking back from Stakar, his eyes darting to the other’s crotch, confusion and hurt in his eyes. “Not- no. Not that.” Trying hard not to think about what that reaction meant, Stakar took the cup and took a sip, then passed it back to Udonta. “Try it.”

He did as instructed, managing to get some of the liquid into his mouth. Immediately he grinned - just as toothy as the last time, but more genuine - and much of it spilled back out onto his shirt.

Stakar made a point of laughing, hoping that Udonta wouldn’t panic over the spilled liquid. “Good. Very good.” Udonta blinked up at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Do you like it?”

The Centaurian paused from licking his lips long enough to say, “Yuh.” He took another sip, managing to swallow most of it that time, and Stakar patted his shoulder. To his surprise - and glee - Udonta was more than happy to lean back against him as he continued sipping on the drink and Stakar checked in on his crew through his comm.

Chapter Text

Aleta woke before everyone else - it wasn’t a surprise, she always had - and slipped out of her room after checking to make sure Stakar was still in his. They didn’t stay in the same room, there was too much risk having the two co-captains in the same place all the time, although they weren’t too far apart. Content that he was fast asleep, she made her way to the medical hall, deciding it was time to get a good look at Udonta herself.

She couldn’t recall the name of the medic that greeted her - it wasn’t Arc, she hoped the man was getting some much-needed rest - but thankfully she didn’t need to know it. He knew her. That was what mattered. “Captain,” he greeted, thumping his chest.

She nodded. “Where’s the kid?” The medic frowned and Aleta’s eyes narrowed. “He is still here, isn’t he?” She didn’t want to deal with the fallout from something happening to him.

“Uh, yes, there’s been a slight mishap but it’s being taken care of.”

She nodded, not giving the man long enough to say anything else. “I want his medical records and anything you’ve got on his people. Everything that you’ve gotten from scans and whatever Martinex got off his collar.”

“Yes, captain.”

It was tempting to turn sharply on her heel and leave the rest of the mess to someone else to clean up. But something held her back. “Which room is he in?”

After getting the number, Aleta’s feet took her there almost of their own accord. She stopped outside, staring through the glass at him curiously. It was easy to see why Stakar was so attached to him. He was completely broken, wrapped in Stakar’s jacket and watching the room with uneasy eyes.

“Medic.”

The man was by her side in an instant. “Captain.”

“You said there was an accident. What happened?”

“He wet the bed and started panicking.”

It made sense. If he’d never eaten before then he’d never had to use the restroom before either. “Is he calm now?”

“More or less.”

“That will be all.” Before she could lose her nerve, Aleta pushed open the door to his room, striding inside. Udonta reacted immediately, flinching back and looking at Aleta with fear. “Easy there,” she said, sitting beside his bed. “I’m a friend.”

“F-f-en-d.”

“Friend.”

“Fr-eh-nd.”

He seemed genuinely distraught that he couldn’t manage the pronunciation, so Aleta just shook her head. “That’s alright.”

Udonta bared his teeth at her, although it seemed to be meant as a friendly gesture rather than a threat. Aleta gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. “Are you feeling better this morning?” she asked. He nodded, pointing to his stomach and trying to say something unintelligible. Without thinking, Aleta reached out and pressed her hand against his stomach.

He tensed.

She pulled her hand back. “Sorry. Let me find the medic.” She wasn’t fleeing from him, she told herself sternly as she found a medic and sent them off to deal with whatever his problem was. She was just getting someone better equipped to deal with him.

Taking the information she’d gotten on him she shut herself up in the old rec room, flipping between a page on Centuarian customs and Kree slaving practices numbly. 

The next morning Stakar found himself swept up into the regular drum of life on the Ravager ship - it didn’t help that Aleta had disappeared again - and didn’t manage to find time to check on Udonta until close to lunchtime. When he finally did check on him, he wasn’t alone.

“Krugarr?”

The Lem nodded, flicking his large ears, his eyes not once moving from Udonta. The former slave was staring at him in return with something between fear and curiosity. He looked to Stakar, clearly hoping for an explanation, and the captain simply shrugged. “He doesn’t talk, but he’s a friend.”

Incorrect. As ever with Krugarr’s strange unspoken language, Stakar received a jumble of complex thoughts suddenly erupting through his head. He doubted Udonta picked up on them, probably only seeing the shake of Krugarr’s head and the way his ears slightly sagged.

“Fr-eh-nd.” Udonta repeated.

"Friend?" Stakar asked, struggling to understand what he was saying. He didn't recall having taught Udonta that word, but it didn't mean that he didn't know it.

Krugarr flipped his ears. Yes. Sorry. Udonta. Friend.

Stakar glanced at the Lem, then back to Udonta, understanding what he was saying. “You’ve been practicing your words?”

“Yesss.” He almost had the pronunciation down, the only mistake was the end of the word turning into a tight whistle.

“Good.” Stakar had to admit he was impressed, although something about Krugarr’s face told him that if he had to listen to Udonta any longer he’d be upset. He didn’t really have a plan for dealing with Udonta - his plan could be summed up in two words: fix him - and so he was at a loss for what to do with him on a day to day basis. He couldn’t just leave him in the medical bay, not if people were going to be coming by to stare at him (he’d heard about Aleta’s trip, of course).

“Are you feeling up to a walk?”

Udonta was on his feet in an instant. “Yes.”

“Let’s introduce you to everyone.” That way, at least, if they just started showing up he hopefully wouldn’t panic. “Krugarr, can you find everyone?” The Lem was more than happy to help, sliding ahead of them slipping out the door before it was fully open.

Follow me.