Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ponk is an alien.

Not an alien from any species Ant recognizes, but he is hardly in a position to question the origins of other special beings. 

Ant, after all, is one of the only survivors in his entire species, after the Dreamons decided to test their firing capacity on his home planet.

Fuckers.

So- Ponk is an alien, and Ant decides not to ask where he is from. He knows, from personal experience, that questions about one’s homeland can end up in very awkward situations. Case in point: himself, Velvet, Bad, and Sam.

He and Velvet prefer not remembering the devastated wasteland they were retrieved from by Bad and Sam. Sam doesn’t feel any attachment to his home planet and usually closes up when he is reminded of his species’ loose morals. Bad- 

Bad prefers never mentioning the Dreamons.

So-

Ponk’s an alien, and they don’t ask any more questions about that.

They find him in some gruesome space stations meant for long-time travelers to take a short break, refueling their engine, and buying their provisions. Bad always scrunches his nose when they have to stop there, but it is way safer than any of the Ender-owned stations.

Even if the rest of the world would think otherwise.

Bad, Sam, Velvet, and Ant are not the rest of the world. They are the Badlands, and they are wanted pirates.

So no one really tries to approach them. They sit at a booth, waiting for the mechanics to finish fixing their ship, and Ant snickers at the way Sam constantly glances over at them, like some kind of worried parent. Even though they know the mechanics know what they’re doing.

Sam has grown far too protective over Sam Nook.

They might need to stage an intervention.

No one approaches them, though. Because, although they don’t really wear a Badlands uniform, most aliens are smart enough to notice that, one, their spaceship isn’t chartered by any of the big spatial powers and two, their crew is far too diverse to be normal. And they’re all smart enough to know that this is not good news. So they don’t bother them.

Except for Ponk.

Because Ponk – whoever that guy is – just slips next to them at the small booth, sitting right next to Bad on the bench.

“Hey!” he greets in some heavily accented Common. “Do you guys have some credits I could borrow?”

Sam blinks in surprise. “Pardon?”

“Some credits,” Ponk repeats. “My buddy left me with practically nothing and I was just vibing, waiting for him, but I’m bored now.”

Ant’s tail wraps around Velvet’s in an instinctive motion, as they all look at the newcomer. “Your buddy?”

“You probably wouldn’t know him,” Ponk responds. “I wanted to go on a backpacking trip and all. So I paid him some gas money, and there we went! And now…” He frowns a little. “I’m afraid my stomach’s gonna start rumbling soon.”

“Rumbling?” Sam repeats, tilting his head.

Ponk nods quickly. “Uh uh. That’s what happens to my species when we get hungry!”

That genuinely sounds pretty horrifying. Their stomachs just get a voice of their own? That sounds nightmarish.

“If…” Velvet’s voice is a bit tentative. “If you don’t mind the question, what species are you, exactly?”

The alien looks happy: his eyes fill with mirth and his voice gets a little chirper. “I’m a human!”

There’s a second of silence.

And then Ant laughs. “A human?” he repeats, shaking his head. “That’s a good one, man.” He smiles at the newcomer. “You don’t have to say if you don’t want to. We’re not really too focused on that anyway.”

Velvet rumbles next to him and gently rubs their heads together. 

“Oh,” the alien says. He looks a little taken aback. “All right then.” He brings his hand forward, toward Sam. He is holding it straight in front of Sam’s chest, as if he were waiting for some kind of reaction. “I’m Ponk!”

Sam frowns a little. “Sam,” he replies. “What are you…?”

Ponk’s eyes fall back on his own hand, and he looks a little sheepish. “Oh! This is how we greet each other in my culture!” He moves in to grab Sam’s hand, and takes it in his hand (he only has one of them, Ant remarks vaguely. He is bipedal, but with only one arm. Weird. Ant doesn’t know many creatures with only three limbs). “See, like this,” he says. “And then you shake.” He moves their joined hands up and down.

Sam looks confused but he doesn’t rip his hand away from the touch until Ponk has stopped making their hands move. “I- Nice,” he says slowly.

“Yep!” Ponk says. He turns to Bad. “Now your turn!” 

Bad shakes his head a little. “Immaterial, I’m afraid,” he says, and Ant sees him purposely dematerialize. Coward!

Ponk doesn’t seem to take offense and he turns to Ant and Velvet. “Oh, and…” He squints a little. “I’m allergic to cats,” he says slowly. “Are you two… related to cats?”

Velvet lets out a little scoff. “What the fuck is a cat?”

“Hey!” Bad protests. “Language!”

“He’s talking about weird things!” Velvet responds petulantly. “Don’t scold me!”

Ponk laughs. “A cat is like, ah, just some weird demonic creature. They look like you two though. Except yea big –” He crouches to indicate a very small height, not even as high as the chairs “- and with only two eyes. And less claws and fangs.”

“So nothing in common,” Sam deadpans.

“No, no, no, no- they look- The shape’s the same,” Ponk says. “And the fur.” He drops his voice. “It’s the fur I’m allergic to.”

Ant blinks a bit and he turns to look at Sam. They exchange an incredulous look. Who is this guy?

“Anyway!” Ponk says. “Now that we’ve established that you guys are super chill- do you have some credits to spare?” 

* * *

He’s weird.

And what’s even weirder is the way he fits so seamlessly into their conversation, sitting comfortably with them and exchanging jokes as if he had been part of the crew for years. 

And so, when the Badlands’ ship is ready to take off and Ponk asks if they would mind dropping him off into the next big space station, they all decide to agree.

Which is weird.

Because they’re pirates, not tourist ships. 

But still, they take Ponk on board, and they depart.

* * *

“I love space,” Ponk says, his space scrunches against a window. He has removed the spacesuit he was wearing, but his face is still partially covered by some red scarf expertly wrapped around his head to reveal only his eyes. 

Ant hums in response. 

“I really like the stars,” Ponk continues. “When I was young, I’d just sit down at night and watch them and…” He shrugs. “You know. Vibe.”

Ant nods a little, coming closer and leaping on a chair. 

“I haven’t flown that much,” Ponk adds. “We hu- My species- We don’t really do that much space travel. So I kind of…” He shrugs. “I met Purpled and I kinda jumped at the opportunity to have someone drive me around.”

“Wait- Purpled?”

Ponk nods. “Purpled!” he says. “My buddy! Do you know him?”

“Shit-” Ant stays back up. “I need to talk to Sam. Shit-”

“Hey, what’s up?” Ponk asks.

“Purpled’s a fucking bounty hunter!” Ant replies quickly. “And you might have a bit too oblivious to notice it, but he won’t exactly like us!”

Ponk blinks. “Do you have a bounty?”

Ant lets out a nervous laugh. “On all of our heads, yeah.” He frowns. “Wait are you-” Shit, is Ponk a bounty hunter? Does he work with Purpled? Have they fucked up this bad?

“Bounty is a chocolate bar in my culture,” Ponk replies sagely. “I like bounties.”

Ant doesn’t move. “What the fuck.”

“Do you guys have chocolate?” Ponk continues. “If not, you should get some. Chocolate’s very good. I could bake some pains au chocolat.” 

What the fuck, indeed. 

And, just like that, Ponk becomes a part of their spatial experience.

Chapter Text

Ponk is… weird.

He is an alien, but not one that Bad recognizes, despite having been almost everywhere in the galaxy when he served the Dreamon army. 

Ponk is weirdly friendly. He isn’t skittish of Bad – which most aliens tend to be when they first meet him – and he doesn’t ask any questions about his lack of mask. To be fair though, Bad doesn’t ask any questions about why Ponk wears a scarf to hide his face. So they’re somewhat even, there. Bad does not wear a mask, by choice, and Ponk wears one. By choice. 

Still. Ponk is… weird.

And Bad usually does his best not to judge anyone, not to expect certain behaviours based on an alien’s species, and not to ever criticize someone’s choices.

But Ponk-

Ponk is weirdly comfortable, as if he weren’t surrounded by a pirate crew.

He just hangs around the ship, chattering to anyone who will listen. It’s mostly Sam, given that Velvet tends to growl protectively whenever Ponk offers to ‘pet’ him or Ant – Bad finds out that ‘petting’ is something Ponk’s species does for cats. Ponk runs his fingers through Ant and Velvet’s fur and watches them purr almost automatically. It’s amusing, until Velvet gets jealous. 

Then it’s even more amusing for Bad to go completely immaterial save for his hands and sneak up on his friends, gently brushing his fingers through their fur. They both relax before Velvet playfully snaps his jaw toward Bad’s hands. Bad catches Ponk’s amused eyes and he smiles.

So Ponk fits pretty well in the crew. He sits down at one of the driving seats in the cockpit and, instead of actually trying to pilot their ship, he just lets Sam Nook take control and he launches into a discussion with Sam about anything that goes through his mind.

And Sam, who is usually reserved and closed off, indulges him. He carefully explains how the ship works, and he hums and nods at Ponk’s blabber. 

It’s… interesting.

What Bad finds fascinating though, is how much Ponk knows about other cultures, especially the human one. 

He one day makes his way to the ship’s small kitchen. Bad’s there, humming as he checks on their food supply. They mostly rely on jello identified by Sam Nook as providing all the nutrients they need, but Bad still enjoys finding variety in their meals. His favourite thing is still to find new flavours he likes and cook soup for his crewmates. 

So Ponk comes in, humming a little song. He pauses and takes in the room, squinting a little. “Hmmm… Kitchen?” he tries.

Bad nods. “We keep the provisions here,” he says. “I was thinking about making us some soup.”

Ponk makes a thinking expression. “Soup?” he repeats. “How about…” He hesitates. “What kind of food do you got?”

Bad shrugs a little, shifting. “You can check if you’d like,” he offers, gesturing to their fridge and cupboards.

Ponk hums and he takes the invitation. He stares at the fridge for a minute. “Why is it… round?” he asks. “And small?” 

Bad shrugs. “It’s a fridge.”

“Nuh-uh,” Ponk responds immediately. “That’s not a fridge. I would know. I’ve done a lot of research about fridges. Supreme fridges.”

Bad isn’t sure what makes a fridge supreme, and why their fridge does not classify as a good fridge, but he nods confusedly. “It… keeps food cold…?”

“Make it red,” Ponk advises. “It will be better.”

Bad shrugs. “I guess I can ask Sam Nook to do that. Does it make the food better?”

Ponk nods fervently. “You bet your ass it does!”

“Hey!” Bad protests. “Language!”

Ponk grimaces. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “Still getting a grasp on Common. Purpled taught me but it’s like…” He shrugs. “You know?”

“Sam Nook works as a translator,” Bad informs him. “He knows pretty much every alien language!”

Ponk’s eyes fill with joy almost immediately and he launches into some rapid speaking of a language Bad never heard before. It sounds melodic and has similar click sounds as the Dreamon languages. This is all there is in common though. The rest of Ponk’s language is something Bad knows he wouldn’t be able to translate but which he finds fascinating. Ponk’s voice moves up and down, he accentuates certain vowels and easily lets go of others. It’s melodic and fascinating.

‘I apologize,’ Sam Nook says, ‘I have not been programmed to translate this language.’

Ponk deflates visibly before giving a small shrug. “Worth a try,” he says, shrugging. “Even on my home planet, not many people speak it anyway.”

Bad hums a little. “Is your species very isolated from other planets, then? Since Sam Nook doesn’t know your language.”

Ponk hums. “You could say that, I guess,” he responds. “Does Sam Nook know English?”

“English?” Bad tilts his head.

‘English is a language commonly spoken on Earth by humans,’ Sam Nooks pipes in helpfully. 

Bad freezes. “Humans?” he repeats.

Ponk shrugs. “Yeah, I-”

“Has your species been in contact with humans, then?” he asks. “You’re not- You don’t look Ender at all…”

Ponk blinks. “No, I-”

“I’m sorry,” Bad says quickly. “I shouldn’t- I’m touchy about being a Dreamon too. I won’t make you talk about something you don’t want to discuss.” 

Ponk nods mutely and Bad smiles a little. 

“Before I…” He grimaces, not wanting to discuss too much of his past and experiences in the Dreamon army with someone he barely knows. “Before I met Sam, I had some- I knew some people who had experiences with humans,” he says. ‘Experiences.’ More like the Dreamon soldiers had burnt down a human colony and their retelling of the happenings had been what had convinced Bad to desert the army. Bad can still hear their laughter as they described the shrill cries of baby humans. He shudders. 

“Are you good?” Ponk asks, frowning.

“I…” Bad shrugs. “Not great memories,” he admits. “Humans… I haven’t met any of them personally, but I’ve…” He trails off and dematerializes as he sometimes does when he is uneasy.

He catches Ponk glancing at him uncertainly, but neither of them tries to continue the conversation.

“So-” Ponk says slowly. “Do you have rice?”

“Rice?” Bad repeats. “What’s that?”

Ponk groans and presses his hand to his face, as if he were pained. “Aliens suuuuck,” Ponk moans. “I want rice, not stupid jello!”

‘May I suggest finding an alternative for the food you are requesting?’ Sam Nooks suggests.

“What do you propose, robot man?”

‘As a guest of the Badlands, you are free to explore the food inventory at your disposal. A comprehensive list is also accessible on the fridge.’

Ponk makes a small thinking sound. “The Not-Supreme fridge?”

‘My apologies,’ Sam Nook responds diplomatically. ‘I do not believe that the appliance you require is available in any of the spatial stores the Badlands frequents.’

“There should be a Supreme space store,” Ponk mutters, clearly more to himself than to Bad. “And a Supreme spaceship.”

Bad giggles a little. “You’re strange,” he says.

“Hey!” Ponk replies, a grin in his voice. “You’re strange!”

Bad shrugs it off. “Do you want to help me make some soup?”

“Sure thing!”

* * *

It turns out that Ponk is an excellent cook. A few times, he brings his mask down to try a few of the ingredients, and Bad politely looks away. Once Ponk is more familiar with the different flavours, though, he starts chatting loudly about personal preferences and opinions.

He sniffs at various ingredients before dropping them in the pot without much hesitation, and Bad lets him, only intervening when he thinks that Ponk is about to poison them all or create an explosion.

Once they’re done, Ponk seems much happier, much more excited, and he demands to try to make some dessert with the supplies they have.

“What do you have in mind?” Bad asks, not protesting. 

Ponk hums. “I think…” He points at a blue fruit on their table. “This tastes like a lemon. I like it. We could make a pie.”

“A pie?”

“Like uh… A cake but with a crust.”

Bad shakes his head. “I’m really not su-”

Ponk waves his concern away. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll like it!”

And so Bad watches as the man starts searching through their provision, taste-testing a new variety of ingredients, and asking different questions to try and figure out the equivalences between the food items he is used to and the ones he has at his disposal here. He seems to be hitting an impasse when he demands some ‘fat,’ but a very long discussion with Sam Nook convinces him that he can try using one of their creams as an equivalent. Ponk grimaces but agrees.

And so he works like that, just mixing ingredients into a bowl and singing to himself in, according to Sam Nook, a human language. Which is very impressive. Bad isn’t sure what kind of relationship Ponk’s species has with humans, but it is quite impressive for Ponk to know a language from a planet insular to other aliens. 

Still. Bad listens to Ponk sing, and he closes his eyes a little.

And then Sam Nook activates their alarm system.

‘Alert,’ he calls. ‘Alert. Hostile ship detected.’ 

Bad jumps up, eyes wide. “Ponk,” he says. “This might be dangerous, I-”

Ponk’s on his feet already, quickly wiping the flour off his hands. “What’s happening?”

“Sam Nook detected a hostile ship. That means we might need to run. Or fire.”

Ponk nods. “Fight or flight,” he says. “But in space.”

Bad chooses not to rest on the nonsensical words. “Sure, if you want, if you say so- What- What do you want to do?”

Ponk shrugs. “I’ll come with.”

“Are you su-”

“Yeah,” Ponk nods. “Most people are afraid of my species anyway.”

Bad frowns, still unsure what species Ponk is from, but gives a small nod. And so they both leave the kitchen, Bad’s hand on one of his blades, and they quickly move through the ship, trying to reach the cockpit.

They don’t make it.

Because there’s someone in the middle of the hallway. 

Bad easily recognizes the stature of an Ender as well as the armor that is so similar to that of the Ender authorities yet does not showcase their symbol.

And, from that, it’s quite easy for Bad to guess who it is. 

Very few Enders navigate this part of the galaxy. And even fewer purposely choose not to represent their fleet.

This is Purpled.

“Ponk,” the Ender says, his tone a bit bored as he raises a gun toward Bad. “I told you to wait.”

Ponk squints a little. “But Purpled, I was boooored!”

Bad steps forward, his hand firmly clenched around his knife.

“T-t-t,” Purpled immediately scolds. “I’ve got the right stuff to take care of Dreamons.” He flips a switch on the gun, and the strident sound that comes out has Bad immediately regain his consistency.

Dang it. Bounty hunters seem to always be far too prepared. Bad lowers his blade. “What do you want?”

“Honestly, I only came here for Ponk,” Purpled says. “But now that I’m here, I suddenly remembered that some people would pay good money for your head on a platter.”

“You’re outnumbered,” Bad replies, holding his breath.

Purpled shrugs. “I’m also an excellent fighter and you know it.”

And Cosmos, does Bad know. Purpled is one of the most threatening bounty hunters they know – mostly, because, along with being a formidable fighter, he has access to the Enders’ knowledge and technology.

It’s honestly not fair.

“Where were you, Purp?” Ponk asks, a whine in his voice. “I ran out of food while you were gone.”

Purpled sighs. “I told you to ask the owner. I paid him to keep an eye on you.”

Bad blinks, not intervening.

“He didn’t have the right vibes,” Ponk replies. “Those guys are chill!”

Purpled lets out a long sigh. “Those guys,” he says, “are pirates.”

“They’re chill!”

Purpled looks highly inconvenienced. “I just asked you to wait for me,” he says. “Just wait a few hours, while I take care of a problem. That’s all.” 

“I was booored.”

“You got yourself captured by pirates.”

Bad hesitates. “We didn’t capture him,” he says. “He just- Ponk wanted to come with us.”

Ponk nods frantically. “I made friends, Purp! This is Bad, and there’s Sammy Wammy 123, and there are the cat dudes too! They’re great.” 

Purpled closes his eyes, seemingly frustrated. “They’re pirates, Ponk.”

Ponk shrugs. “Trust me! These guys are chill!”

Purpled lowers his gun. “Have they hurt you in any way?”

“Nuh-uh. We’ve been baking a pie!”

“You do realize that his species –” Purpled points to Bad with a movement of his chin. “– is known for its aggression, especially against yours?”

“Bad’s chill!”

Bad doesn’t dare to move. He hears steps behind them, people coming running, and Purpled immediately reacts, brandishing his gun again and pointing it at him. “Don’t move.”

Bad doesn’t shift, but he hears Sam’s gasp and recognizes the way Ant hisses angrily.

“Okay,” Purpled says slowly. “Let’s talk business.”

Ponk whines. “Agaiiin?”

“The terms of our previous agreement have obviously changed,” Purpled replies. “So. Ponk. I didn’t take you all the way around the galaxy as we agreed.”

Ponk shrugs. “They will!”

“Do you want to stay with them, then?”

Ponk hums a little before nodding. “They’re chill. They don’t have a Supreme fridge, but no one’s perfect!”

Purpled scoffs a little before his eyes flicker to Bad. “How much?” he asks.

“How much what?”

“How much for me not to take over this ship and fly you straight to the Ender Mothership?” 

Ant hisses. “You wouldn’t.”

Purpled shrugs nonchalantly. “Trust me, I would. They pay good money.”

Bad doesn’t dare to move – doesn’t dare to breathe. Not with the way Purpled is watching them with calculating purple eyes, clearly analyzing his options.

“What about Ponk?” Velvet asks suddenly. “He’s been travelling with us. The Enders will judge him as one of us.”

Purpled frowns a little. “Would they?”

Sam huffs. “Definitely. Enders see everything in black and white.” He pauses. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Purpled replies automatically. There’s something like hesitation in his eyes. Something like… conflict? “I’ll ask again. How much?”

“Six hundred credits,” Bad proposes, his voice a bit shaky. “And you’ve never seen us.”

Purpled scoffs. “That’s not even worth one of your heads.”

“Purpleeed!” Ponk whines. “I’m having fun with them!”

Purpled’s eyes flicker to him again. “Are you?” 

Ponk nods enthusiastically. 

“Do you still have your card thing?” Purpled asks. “The money thing?”

Ponk’s eyes light up and he looks through his pockets for a second before pulling out a small blue card. It’s smaller than his hand, and quite thin. Bad looks at it, squinting a little. 

“What does this do?”

“It makes money,” Purpled says. “That’s what his species uses.” He looks back to Ponk. “I want that.”

“My debit card?” Ponk replies. “My hard-earned cash? You said you couldn’t even use it!”

“I’ll figure it out,” Purpled responds. “I’m sure your planet will have something worth buying.” 

Bad turns to look at Ponk, who is staring at his card, clearly contemplating. 

“That’s my offer,” Purpled states. “Eight hundred credits, and the money card.”

“Hey!” Bad protests, “This is more than we-”

“Fine with us,” Sam interrupts him. “As long as this is okay with Ponk too.” His voice gets clearly softer as he addresses him.

Ponk shrugs. “Sure. That’s fine.” He hands the card forward.

Purpled grabs it without a word. 

“Eight hundred credits?” Sam repeats. The bounty hunter nods, and Sam lets out a long sigh. “Fine. We’ll have it delivered to you.” He pauses. “There’s a-” He hesitates before typing down a set of coordinates. “Go to asteroid H-233 and ask for Foolish. Tell him you’re here from Sam. He’ll help.” 

Purpled gives a nod. “And-”

“If anything happens to him, we’ll know it was you,” Sam says. “And the Badlands don’t take well to our friends being hurt.”

Purpled nods. “Understood,” he responds. “Likewise, if anything happens to Ponk, you can expect another visit.”

“Yeah!” Ponk says, his tone a bit petulant. “Purp likes me!”

Purpled hums uncommittingly. “Don’t follow me,” he warns as he takes a step back. “If you do, I will fire.”

Ponk gasps. “At me?”

“I will defend myself,” the Ender replies, sounding a little bored again. “Ponk, if you need anything, contact me.” He throws a communicator and Ponk catches it in extremis. “And you four-” He pauses, looking at each of them. “I never saw you; you never saw me. We don’t owe each other anything.”

“Except eight hundred credits,” Velvet grumbles unhappily.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Ant covers immediately. “Have a good journey back. Bye!”

Purpled scoffs before leaving.

They breathe out in relief.

“Well, that was a cool meetup!” Ponk exclaims happily.

Bad sighs. 

Chapter Text

Okay, so Ponk is strange, Ponk should learn not to ‘pet’ Ant, but also, it is quite a good thing that they have him.

Because when Velvet finally gets back to the Badlands’ ship, half-conscious, aware that he is losing too much blood, Ponk is the one who takes care of him.

Sam bends his legs and Bad is quick to move Velvet from his back and onto a bed. Neither of them bothers to try to remove the white linen and Velvet doesn’t have the energy to feel guilty about probably ruining it.

Ant is hovering over him, his tail lashing furiously, his eyes full of fear.

“Hey handsome,” Velvet rasps. His voice is hoarse, and he sees in Ant’s eyes how worried his partner is (and how angry he feels at the Enders).

“Oh Cosmos, Velvet, just keep your energy, please.”

Velvet lets out a weak laugh. “What? And pass up a chance at talking to the most beautiful being in the universe?”

“How does he look?” Sam asks, mandibles chattering nervously. 

“Handsome, I hope,” Velvet replies. “I have a date tonight.”

Ant rolls his eyes and Velvet cheers inwardly. His partner is okay. He is not freaking out too much. “Velvet, please-”

Velvet grins. “Hey, if you are going to be begging, you should be in the bed with-”

“Language!” Bad protests immediately. 

“If he can joke, he might still be okay,” Sam comments, though he still sounds uncertain.

“Or he is completely losing it,” Ant responds. “Velvet, how do you feel?”

Velvet moves his tail to try to interlace it with his partner. “Happy to be with you,” he breathes. “But a bit…” He hesitates. “Out of it?”

There are black spots dancing in front of his vision and a throbbing pain in one of his legs. 

“He’s losing a lot of blood,” Bad says, letting out a small concerned sound. “I’m not sure how-”

“Hey! You guys are back!” 

Velvet shifts his head just a tiny bit to look at Ponk who hovers uncertainly in the doorway. “Hey,” he rasps.

“Velvet!” Ponk exclaims immediately. “You’re back!” His eyes flick to Bad. “I kept an eye on the kid, as you asked. He was good. We were just vibing. And-”

“Ponk, I’m so sorry but we’re a little busy there!” Ant replies. It is bordering on a hissing sound, and Velvet desperately wants to sit up and bumps his forehead to his partner’s to keep him calm. He doesn’t though, because anytime he tries to shift, he has to face a dozen of upset eyes.

“What’s happeni- Oh.”

Ponk freezes, his eyes fixated on Velvet’s wound.

Sam’s mandibles chatter. “Escape didn’t go so well,” he comments.

“What kind of painkillers have you given him?” Ponk asks, coming closer.

Velvet frowns and meets a matching expression on Ant’s face. “What do you-”

“I was- I worked as a doctor on Ea- on my home planet. I know how to deal with this stuff. How did he get hurt?”

Bad’s white eyes flicker to Velvet, then Ant, before he gives a tiny nod. 

“He got shot by an Ender while we were running away,” Ant responds, moving his tail to point at Velvet’s legs. “That’s the most urgent one. Those bastards also tried to torture him so he’d tell where our base is but-”

“Didn’t speak,” Velvet replies weakly.

Sam crosses two of his arms. “At least we didn’t torture our hostage.”

“They didn’t fucking want our hostage back,” Ant spits. “I hate Enders.”

Bad looks back to Ponk. “How’s Ranboo?” 

“Quiet,” Ponk replies. “Just, you know. Vibing.” He hesitates for a second. “If you want to check on him, I can- I’m good at the health stuff.”

Bad looks back to Ant, clearly hesitant. Ant glances at Ponk before giving a nod. “We don’t- If you know what you’re doing…”

“You bet your ass I do!” Ponk replies enthusiastically. He comes closer. “Okay, was there a bullet? Or was it a ray gun?”

Velvet watches silently as Ant and Ponk exchange rapid information. Soon enough, Ponk is bending over to watch the wound, his eyes uncharacteristically serious, and Sam is quickly running through the ship, bringing him all the items he demands.

Ant is staring, barely moving from his spot right next to Velvet. 

Velvet isn’t sure if it’s a result of whatever injection Ponk gives him or simply a reaction to Ant’s comforting rumbling, but he falls asleep.

* * *

He wakes up a few hours later and immediately catches his partner’s eyes staring down at him. 

“Velvet!” he exclaims immediately. “How are you?”

“Much better now that I’ve seen your pretty face, beautiful,” Velvet replies. There are a few more people in the room, but he cannot look away from Ant. 

Ant laughs. “Shut up,” he says, and there’s no heat in his voice. “I was- Shit, I was so worried. Almost as much as when-”

Velvet nods grimly. “As much as last time,” he agrees. Neither of them really speaks about it, but they remember when the Dreamons destroyed their home planet. Velvet remembers desperately searching through the rubbles. He remembers looking up to the stars and praying that Ant survived. 

Ant inhales sharply. “Don’t do that again,” he says. “You really- I was terrified.”

Velvet makes a small, worried sound, moving his tail to gently reach toward his partner. “I’m here,” he says. “I’m okay.”

Ant’s eyes are full of tenderness. “I know,” he breathes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Velvet replies. “The Enders weren’t really… pleasant.”

He hears a tiny, awkward sound and turns his head. He almost screams at the sight of an Ender.

“Ant!” he exclaims, terrified. “Ant, they-”

“Shit!” Ant curses. “No, Velvet, he won’t- This is Ranboo.”

“He is an Ender.”

Ant lets out an awkward laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, he is. We kinda- We kidnapped him.”

The Ender – Ranboo – makes an awkward smile. “Yep. They did do that.”

“You kidnapped a-”

“We needed a hostage!” Ant replies, his tail moving quickly. “We tried to exchange him but-”

Ranboo makes a face. “Enders aren’t… mmh. Nice?”

“They’re goal-oriented people,” a new voice pipes in. “Not individual oriented.” 

Velvet tilts his head a little. “Ponk.”

“Yo. Slept well?”

Velvet hums. “I guess. You were… You healed me?”

Ponk nods. “Yeah. You were a bit out of it though. Kept talking about how pretty Ant was.” 

Ant laughs. “No, he does that normally. The out-of-it part is how he couldn’t focus on anything else.”

Velvet nods numbly. “You said a lot of things.”

“We mentioned Ranboo,” Ant tells him. “And we told you exactly how we broke in. And Ponk told us about his species’ approach to medicine. And-”

“Okay, okay, I was out of it,” Velvet responds, rolling his eyes. “What are the important points?”

“Well, one, Bad is pretty much adopting Ranboo, two, Enders are dumb bastards, and three, Ponk thinks we can die eight times or something.”

Velvet blinks. Twice. “Wait, what?”

“Enders don’t care about their young apparently,” Ant comments. “Too many of them or something.” 

Which is some big culture shock for the both of them. Ant and Velvet were both raised on their home planet by an entire group – a pride. Children were to be cherished and raised by the entire community. Velvet cannot barely imagine cultures that overlook their young. And, judging by Ant’s expression, neither does he.

“Okay…” he replies slowly.

“Our hostage situation failed,” Ant says. “And Ranboo didn’t want to go back home. So we’re keeping him.”

Velvet hesitates for a second before giving a nod. “You know what? Sure.”

“Then we almost got killed by Enders when we broke in to get you back. Which is why they’re all bastards.” Ant’s eyes flick to the Ender child. “Except Ranboo, I guess.” 

Velvet hums. “And the dying thing?” he asks.

“Ant is stretching my words!” Ponk protests. “I just said that cats technically have nine lives!”

Velvet tilts his head. “What the fuck does that mean? Are cats the thing you mentioned the other time? The tiny version of us?”

Ponk nods enthusiastically. “Uh uh. They’re small you. And they have nine lives.”

“So they die and come back to life?” Ant asks, squinting.

“Fuck if I know dude,” Ponk replies. “I’m allergic!”

Ponk is weird.

Really weird.

* * *

There are so many weird things about Ponk species. 

Velvet stops counting, and he just decides to accept that Ponk comes from a strange planet none of them know. It’s a weird planet with weird traditions, customs, and knowledge, which means that Ponk fits perfectly with the rest of the Badlands. 

They’re just a patchwork of species and cultures brought together aboard their ship, and so Ponk finds a perfect spot among them. 

If he was meant to only go on a short trip around the galaxy, he doesn’t speak about going back to his home planet, and so no one brings it up.

(Maybe Sam does. They spend a lot of time together. If he does, though, the response must be that Ponk wants to stay with them. Because Sam smiles more brightly for several days). 

Ponk fits in very well.

He wakes up around the same time as Bad and Ranboo every morning and the three of them hang out for a while. When the rest of the crew awakens, they all move to their living area. Sam Nook is usually the one in charge of navigation, but Sam sometimes leaves them to go to the cockpit – most often followed by Ponk. 

As long as they’re not planning to attack a ship or a planet, they tend to spend their days lounging around. Ponk joins them, most of the time, and they exchange jokes and pleasantries. 

It becomes part of their habits. They all sit together. Velvet cuddles with Ant and participates in the banter.

They fit.

They’re a family.

So when Ponk is not on the couch, one morning, Velvet immediately notices the absence. He notices it too in Ranboo’s worried expression and in the way Bad fiddles with his hands nervously.

“’Morning,” he says. “Where’s Ponk?”

Bad doesn’t reply, shaking his head wordlessly. Ranboo grimaces. “Neither of us is sure, actually. He didn’t get up… Bad went to knock but…” A shrug. “He hasn’t responded.”

Velvet frowns a little. “Bad, how about you get us some lunch ready?” he suggests. “Ant was talking about missing your soups last night.”

Bad squints a little, and Velvet is absolutely certain that the Dreamon knows what he is doing. Still he keeps watching him until Bad gives a nod.

“Sure!” he says. “If Ponk shows up, will you-”

“We’ll let you know,” Velvet agrees. 

They wait a beat after Bad has left before Velvet turns to Ranboo. “Well? Come on, kid.”

Ranboo stands up immediately, almost tripping over his own feet. Velvet rolls his eyes. Enders are so lanky it’s a wonder they can keep themselves stable. Bipedals are weird, but Enders are probably the worst. No balance.

Velvet has no problem being stable. Neither does Ant. Or Sam. Bad just floats around. It’s just Ponk and Ranboo with their weird two-legged habits. How do they just… stand? Weird. 

Velvet snorts and he starts walking toward Ponk’s bedroom, closely followed by the Ender.

“Where’s Ant?” he asks. 

Velvet snickers. “Still asleep,” he says. “I had to let him rest.”

Ranboo tilts his head. “I would ask why but-”

“Bad would be upset at me if I explained it, kid,” Velvet replies. 

He just hears a ‘mhm,’ as a response and snorts. Ranboo does not ask more questions. 

They walk all the way to Ponk’s bedroom, and Velvet gives a small nod. Ranboo knocks. 

“Ponk?” Velvet calls. “You up?”

No response. Velvet’s tail swishes nervously.

“Hey, Ponk?” Ranboo tries. “Everything good?”

No response.

“Open the door,” Velvet says. 

Ranboo’s eyes flicker back to him, full of hesitation. “But-”

“Open it.”

Ranboo nods quickly and types the code on the pad on the wall. The door slides open and Velvet quickly moves in.

“Ponk?”

Ponk is on his bed, curled up onto himself, and his body… vibrates?

“Ponk, are you okay?”

Ranboo comes closer, eyes wide. Ponk shifts in his bed. “Oh, hey,” he says. His voice sounds raspy, and he doesn’t pull his head out of his blankets.

“You didn’t come out,” Ranboo says. “Bad was worried.”

Ponk makes a muffled sound. “Am sick.”

Sick? What kind of sickness does Ponk’s species get? Is it contagious? 

“Why didn’t Sam Nook say anything?” Velvet asks immediately. “He should have tol-”

“I told him not to,” Ponk replies. “It’s just a cold.”

A cold? What the fuck is a cold?

“Are you cold?” he questions, his worry growing. “I can ask Sam Nook to crank the temperature up and-”

“Noooooo…” Ponk moans. “Too hot.”

“You said you had a cold!”

Ponk mutters something under his breath. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Sam Nook pipes in. ‘This particular expression does not belong to the ones I can translate.’

“Shut up…” Ponk grumbles. “Stupid.”

Velvet hesitates before moving closer, his tail gently coming to poke Ponk’s hand, which is out of the blanket mass. 

It’s-

Shit it’s warm.

“What the fuck?” he says immediately. “What the fuck, Ponk, you’re burning up!”

“Naaaah,” Ponk responds, drawling out the word. “We do that.”

“Your species gets hot?!”

“It’s a fever,” Ponk replies. “It’s to chase the bad things. Dunno. I’m not a doctor.”

Ranboo snorts. “You quite literally are.”

Velvet hesitates. “Ranboo, would you go get Sam?”

The Ender nods quickly before rushing out. And then it’s just Velvet and Ponk.

Who is definitely weird.

What kind of fucking species gets hot to fight its illness?

And then, Ponk starts… barking? He makes weird sounds that seem to come from his chest more than from his throat and he shakes a bit more violently.

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.

Velvet takes a step back. “Ponk?”

Ponk continues making the weird sounds.

What kind of fucking language is this? 

Sure, Ponk has started teaching Sam Nook languages from his home planet so they can improve their translator, but Ponk still uses Common around them.

And this is not Common.

“Sam Nook, what is he saying?”

‘I’m sorry,’ the AI says. ‘But this is not-’

And then, as quickly as he started, Ponk stops making the sounds.

“I hate this,” he says. He sounds a bit out of breath. “That’s not- Velvet, that’s not-”

“What were you saying?”

Ponk lets out a breathy laugh. “That wasn’t a language, stupid. I was coughing.”

What the fuck is coughing.

“What are you talking about?”

Ponk giggles from under his blankets. “My species does that,” he says. “It’s ‘cause my lungs are defending themselves.”

“From what?” Velvet feels hysterical.

“The air.”

“What the fuck.”

“Don’t worry about it, dude. It’s just coughing.”

“Aren’t your lungs meant for breathing?!”

“Yup.”

“Then why the fuck are they making sounds?!”

Ponk inhales loudly. “Okay,” he says. “So basically-”

“Ranboo said you needed me?” 

Velvet whips his head around to look at Sam. “Sam! Oh, thanks the Cosmos! Ponk is sick!”

Sam’s mandibles chatter in surprise and he removes his goggles to show two very worried eyes. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know!” Velvet says. “He’s super hot but he says he’s cold and his lungs are speaking and he is vibrating.”

“I just have a coooold,” Ponk moans. “I’m fine!”

“You’re not cold, you’re hot!”

“Sam, your cat friend is dumb,” Ponk mumbles. “I’m tired. I want soup.”

“Soup?” Velvet cannot comprehend this conversation anymore.

“Uh-huh. Sick people get soup. I want soup.”

Velvet looks back to Sam, eyes wide.

Sam chuckles. “Go,” he says. “Tell Bad to make an extra serving. I’ll take care of him.”

This is the best dismissal of Velvet’s entire life. He rushes out of the room. 

Fuckers are weird.

Chapter Text

Helping Ponk combat his cold allows Sam to learn a lot about his friend.

There is so much mystery surrounding Ponk, so much that Sam wishes he had the courage to ask. But he, himself, doesn’t really like talking about his past. He hates discussing the Vault, he doesn’t like talking about the way he agreed to serve the Dreamons, and he cannot bring himself to speak about the few months he spent in a cell of his own making.

So, instead, they exchange meaningless discussions. 

And yet, Ponk makes him happy. He is funny and kind and Sam finds himself loving the simplicity of their interactions.

Ponk is the only one who doesn’t know about his past – Bad knows; of course he does, he was the one to save him. Ant and Velvet know, because they built their band of misfits from their shared bad experiences with Dreamons. Ranboo knows, because he is an Ender, and all Enders know about the alien who created the Vault – who gave their historical enemies a weapon of incredible power. Ranboo asks about it one day, timid and hesitant, and Sam nods grimly. 

They all know.

Ponk doesn’t.

Ponk doesn’t know and Sam… Sam finds himself liking that.

They have a simple friendship – not one built out of some shared trauma, but one built just because they genuinely click.

Ponk calls him Sammy Wammy 123 and, instead of finding the nickname absolutely ridiculous, Sam finds it endearing.

Everything about Ponk is either intriguing or endearing.

Sam wonders about his home planet a lot. He wonders if Ponk misses it; if he will ask to go back one day. He wonders if all members of Ponk’s species are as loveable as he is. (He wonders if there are other members of his species or if Ponk, like Ant and Velvet, is from an extinct species. He wonders if that explains Purpled’s protectiveness).

He doesn’t bring it up, too scared of the possible answers.

None of them do. 

Sam talks about Ponk with Bad, in whispers. Bad admits that, like Sam, he has never seen an alien of Ponk’s species. And even when Sam, hesitant, asks if the Dreamons might have destroyed Ponk’s planet, Bad isn’t able to answer with anything more than a shrug.

‘I don’t know, Sam,’ he says. ‘I really don’t know. We should ask him.’

But they don’t.

Because, at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what Ponk is. He is a member of the Badlands. That’s all that matters.

That’s what Sam tells himself as he watches the lump of blankets on Ponk’s bed.

“Hoooooot,” Ponk grumbles.

Maybe it would be good for them to know Ponk’s species. Then Sam would be able to know what his friend actually needs to help him fight his sickness.

“You would be less hot if you weren’t under the blankets, silly,” Sam says gently.

“Noooooo,” Ponk moans. His hand moves blindly until he finds his scarf, rolled into a ball on the bed, and he weakly throws it backward. “Meanie!”

Sam catches it automatically, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you want that?”

“Too hoooot!” 

“Ponky,” Sam sighs. “How do I help you?”

Ponk makes a grumbling sound. “Soup,” he says. “And lemon tea. And ibuprofen.”

“Ibu-what?”

Ponk whines. “Gimme… Gimme cold stuff.”

Sam blinks. “Ponky, soup is hot.”

“Nooooo… Cold medicine.”

“Cold medicine?”

‘If I may interject,’ Sam Nook interrupts. ‘Cold is a term used by humans to designate a viral infection that leads to symptoms such as sore throat, nose congestion, and coughing, as well as a rise in body temperature.’

Sam frowns. “That’s for humans, though,” he says. Ponk groans under the blankets. “What do we do for Ponk?”

“Cold mediciiiine,” Ponk repeats petulantly. 

‘My apologies,’ Sam Nook replies. ‘I am quite certain that the Badlands ship does not carry the supplies you require.’

“Ponk, how does your species deal with that kind of sickness?” 

“You’re so dumb,” Ponk mumbles unhappily. 

Sam frowns. “I’m sorry, Ponky, I’m just-”

‘Frequent hydration and rest are recommended,’ Sam Nook informs them. ‘Enders have also found that a consumption of warm liquids and a moisturization of the air are likely to alleviate throat and sinus symptoms in humans.’

Sam hesitates. How similar is Ponk’s species to humans? Would the same remedies work? Or would they hurt more? 

“Ponky?” he tries.

“I want lemon tea,” Ponk demands. “My mum would give me lemon tea and honey.” 

“Ponk, I don’t know what those are,” Sam whispers.

Ponk makes another grumbling sound. “Ask Bad.”

Sam hesitates. “You want me to ask Bad for lemon tea and honey?” he repeats for confirmation.

The lump of blanket shifts a little and Sam guesses that his friend is nodding. 

“Will you be okay?”

Ponk makes a weird sound that comes from his chest. “Yeah,” he says, panting. “Get me tea, please.”

“Sam Nook, keep an eye on him, please.”

‘Affirmative,’ the AI agrees.

Sam throws another worried look toward his friend before leaving.

* * *

He comes back later, with a steaming cup of water mixed with some blue fruit Bad assured him ‘tastes like lemon according to Ponk’ in one hand, and a small bowl full of some sweet nectar in another. In his third hand, he carries the bowl of soup Bad prepared and shoved into his hands as soon as he arrived in the kitchen. 

Ranboo also dropped a blanket on his back, suggesting that he use it once Ponk starts feeling cold (‘Once?’ Sam had asked, panic rising in his chest). 

Sam makes sure that each item is carefully held in one of his hands before he uses the fourth one to press the code to the door. It slides open, and Sam comes back inside.

“Ponk?” he calls. 

He hears a small groan, and he walks closer to the bed. He almost drops all three cups. Ponk has finally brought himself out of his blanket nest, and there’s a tuft of pale, blond hair sticking out of the blankets.

“Ponk?”

“Hm?”

 “Are you…” Sam gestures vaguely with his one free hand. “Are you aware that you’re not wearing your scarf?”

Ponk lets out a small groan, but it doesn’t sound surprised or afraid. “Too. Hot.”

“I can see your fur, Ponk.”

“Fur?” Ponk is silent for a second before he giggles. “Silly Sammy. It’s hair. Everyone in my species has it. Well, not everyone, but…” He shrugs from under the blankets. “Anyway.”

“You don’t mind me seeing it?”

Ponk makes a small humming sound that sounds like an agreement. 

So Sam watches. Ponk has his face turned opposite him, so Sam can only see the fur – the hair. It’s long, much longer than Ant’s or Velvet’s. It looks as pale and as bright as the fur on Ant’s back, and Sam smiles a little.

And then a thought comes to him.

Ponk constantly reaches to thread his fingers through Ant or Velvet’s fur. He gently rubs his hand on it for hours. When Bad asked, he had explained with a grin that it was called ‘petting’ and that it was a nice thing they do on his home planet. 

Ant and Velvet have hair, and Ponk pets them. Because he is their friend.

Is that- Is petting a bonding activity in Ponk’s culture?

Sam puts the soup, the tea, and the sweet nectar on the bedside table before reaching in gingerly. He should show Ponk that he wants to be friends, shouldn’t he? He should participate in Ponk’s cultural rituals.

His hand reaches the soft hair, and he slowly brings his fingers down. He threads his fingers through very slowly. 

“Whatcha doing?” Ponk asks in a mumble.

“Is that nice?” 

Ponk is silent for a second before he hums. “Yeah. Go a bit… Just a tiny bit heavier. Head hurts.”

Sam immediately complies, putting just a tiny bit more strength into the petting. Ponk hums appreciatively. 

“That’s nice,” he whispers. “Thank you, Sammy.”

Sam isn’t certain what to reply – how to express how much he appreciates Ponk’s presence in his life and on the ship. He doesn’t know how to tell him that he wants to learn everything about his species’s culture to be able to tell him how much he values his friendship.

So he says nothing.

He pets Ponk’s hair, and Ponk falls back to sleep.

* * *

When Ponk wakes back up, a few hours later, Sam wordlessly hands him the scarf and he politely goes to look away while Ponk readjusts the scarf around his head.

“Hey,” Ponk calls, his voice soft. “You and Bad and Ant and- Everyone keeps looking away when I don’t have this.”

Sam gives a small nod. “It’s quite-” He hesitates. “We don’t want to invade your privacy.”

Ponk makes a humming sound. “Nah, I just wear it because I like it. I don’t mind.”

Sam frowns a little. They had all assumed that Ponk’s species was somewhat similar to the Dreamons and that they purposely hid their face behind a mask. That it was disrespectful to try to see what was hidden behind. 

When Bad had first chosen to remove his mask and throw it into space, refusing to be associated with his Dreamon’s upbringing, it had taken days for Sam to bring himself to look at him – to directly look into the white eyes. He had been taught far too well not to look at a maskless Dreamon. 

They had all assumed that Ponk’s species followed a similar custom. And apparently, they had all been wrong.

“You don’t?”

Ponk giggles. “No, silly. C’mon.” He playfully punches him in the shoulder, and Sam turns to look at him.

Ponk-

Ponk is beautiful.

Sam knows Ponk’s brown eyes by heart, but he takes the time to look at the rest of his friend’s face. His nose. His lips that are curved upward into what Sam instinctively knows is a smile. 

“You look so beautiful right now,” he whispers in something that must be an adoring tone. 

Ponk’s face does a weird thing – it reddens a little. Ponk rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sick, silly. Don’t be dumb.” 

“You are beautiful, though,” Sam insists. “You look-”

His heart drops. Ponk looks like a human.

Ponk looks exactly like the holograms he’d seen. He looks exactly like the description given by the Dreamons when they would come back from the battlefront, wounded and terrified out of their mind by the species that was so skillfully resisting them. 

Ponk looks like a human.

Shit.

He takes an instinctive step back, and Ponk’s eyes fill with confusion.

“Sammy?”

Ponk looks human. Ponk looks like a human.

Ponk-

Ponk has never tried to attack them. Ponk never tried to attack Bad, who represents the human’s most hated enemy species.

Ponk…

Ponk is in space, and humans aren’t allowed in space. The Enders don’t let them, according to the Convention that put an end to the Human-Dreamon war.

Ponk has never mentioned his home planet.

“Sammy?” Ponk asks again, frowning now.

“You…” Sam swallows thickly. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You just look…”

“Beautiful?” Ponk cuts in. “Yeah you’ve said. Get with the program, Sammy.”

Sam hesitates. Ponk would have told them if he were a human, right? Humans love their planet; this is why they asked to be left alone by the rest of the aliens. Ponk would have told them. He would have demanded to go back.

Besides, Ponk is kind and friendly and affectionate. Humans are terrifying beings who managed to fight the one species the universe used to fear.

Ponk can’t be human.

Maybe they’re close species? Or maybe Sam remembers the holograms incorrectly.

There has to be an explanation. 

“Is your species… Does your species shapeshift?” Sam asks. 

Ponk purses his lips, deep in thought. “Not really,” he says. “Some of us can change colours. If we go in the sun, we can go a bit redder or a bit tanner. Does that count?”

Sam hesitates. Does it count? It still means that Ponk looks like a human. Even if the colours change.

“I’m…” He hesitates. “You look… You- It’s really stupid, Ponky, but you look a bit like a human.”

Ponk looks at him. He blinks a few times before snorting. 

“You’re right, Sammy, it’s stupid.” He chuckles. “You’re stupid.” His voice holds no heat, and Sam almost melts at the tenderness in the tone. 

“Yeah?” 

Yeah, that’s stupid. Ponk isn’t a human. Ponk isn’t aggressive, or dangerous. Ponk is kind, and gentle, and Sam may or may not be extremely attached to him. He loves all of his crewmates, of course, but the affection Sam feels for Ponk is a bit more tender than what he feels for the others. He isn’t sure what to do with that knowledge or with these emotions. He doesn’t want them to stop.

“Yeah,” Ponk repeats. “You’re stupid.” He pauses, and there’s something like uncertainty in his eyes. His eyebrows furrow just a tiny bit. He looks… hurt? “You looked scared. Did that… Did it scare you? My face?”

Sam shakes it head fervently. “No, no, no. Definitely not. You’re-” He feels a little hot, but he knows, more than anything, that he doesn’t want Ponk to look hurt and vulnerable. “You just- There’s a lot of things about humans,” he says. “They’re a very scary and dangerous species. And since… Since your species looks a bit like them, I just…” He shrugs a bit. “It’s nothing against you, Ponky. I meant it when I said you look beautiful.”

Ponk’s lips quiver a little. They move between the upward curve and the downward curve, and the same conflict flashes across the brown eyes. “Humans are dangerous?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “But don’t worry. They’re not- None of them ever leaves their home planet, and even if they did, we wouldn’t let them hurt you.” He pauses. “I wouldn’t let them hurt you.” His voice is earnest, and Ponk seems to hear it. His gaze softens. 

He scoffs a little. “You’re stupid, Sammy,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But thanks, I guess.”

Sam feels a bit reassured at the warmth in Ponk’s tone. “I meant it,” he says again. “You look beautiful, Ponk.”

Ponk’s face gets a bit redder again. “Aw, shucks. Wait till I’m fully healed.” 

Sam chuckles. “I will.”

Ponk smiles a bit wider. He reaches in, huffing a little as he brings his arm up, and he touches his finger to the middle of Sam’s face, right above his mandibles. “Boop!”

“Boop?” Sam repeats, tilting his head in confusion.

Ponk nods fervently, and his mouth forms a very serious line. “Yes. That’s very important!”

Sam laughs a little. “Should I do it too, then?” he asks, reaching in with one arm, bringing his hand closer to Ponk’s face. To his nose, right in the middle.

“Yes!” Ponk replies immediately before gently batting his hand away. “It’s important! But later. I’m sick.”

“Yeah. I brought you the tea and the soup,” Sam responds, gesturing to the cups on the bedside table. 

Ponk grins. “You are amazing, Sammy.”

Sam’s chest feels warm. “I hope you feel better,” he says. He hesitates, just for a second, and his gaze flickers back to Ponk’s nose. “Later?”  

“Later,” Ponk replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

It sounds like a promise.

Chapter Text

All of the aliens in the Badlands are weird.

But Ponk is the weirdest.

He is kind and friendly and endearing. He is just so… He behaves almost like a human.

That makes things weird. At least Bad, Sam, Ant, Velvet, and Ranboo are clearly alien. They look like aliens, and they behave like aliens.

Ponk… Ponk looks humanoid. He behaves like an alien, like all of them, with strange habits, and weird references, but he also…

He knows a lot about humanity. For some godforsaken reason.

Case in point: Skeppy is just taking the dogs out while Bad is doing some piracy thing (or maybe he is just hanging out with Sam. Who knows?) and Ponk decides to join him.

“Hello fellow bipedal,” Ponk greets, waving his hand. “Mind if I join you?”

Skeppy shrugs a little. “Sure.” He hesitates before handing Ponk one of the leashes. Not Rat’s – she is still a bit too active and tends to run around too much and tangle her leash – but Rocco’s. Rocco’s nice and calm. He shouldn’t give Ponk any problem. “Do you know how to use those?”

Ponk gives him a weird look. “Yeah, of course I do,” he responds, grabbing the leash easily. “I haven’t had a dog myself, but I’ve helped take care of some.”

Skeppy blinks. Ponk has experience with dogs? 

With dogs?

Are space dogs a thing? Why hasn’t Bad mentioned that?

“Yeah?” he responds. “Fun.” 

Ponk hums in reply, gently tugging Rocco along as they start walking. “So!” he says. “You’ve been here for a few weeks. How do you like it?”

Skeppy grins. “I love it,” he responds enthusiastically. “You guys are all so nice, and the asteroid is really cool, and…” He shrugs. “I dunno. I never would have thought I’d get there, but I’m loving it, you know?”

Ponk turns to look at him, his eyes shining with something Skeppy doesn’t recognize. “Yeah, it was the same thing for me,” he replies. “Never really thought I’d leave, but hey. Purpled kinda crashed in my garden, I helped him fix his UFO thing, and I convinced him to take me with him!”

What.

That’s- A lot of things.

Wait so Ponk was not a space traveler and then Purpled (is he a bounty hunter? His name is vaguely familiar) crashed into- What?

“What?”

Ponk giggles. “Long story short, I’m in space, now!” He grins. “It’s been a few years, though, so it’s really refreshing to talk to another human!”

“Yeah?”

That’s such a weird thing to say. Does Ponk know other humans? Maybe he used to be friends with Enders. Apparently, they are the one alien species that tends to interact with humans. Maybe that’s what it is. Purpled is an Ender, isn’t he?

“Huh uh!” Ponk responds enthusiastically. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Sam to death, but if I have to try to explain who Master Oogway is one more time, I think I might explode.”

What. 

“Master who?”

Ponk groans. “Not you too!” he protests. He looks to the sky. “This is not a funny joke, universe!”

“What’s Master Thingy?” Skeppy insists. “Is he important?”

Ponk sniffs dramatically. “Very important!” he replies. 

Skeppy pouts and raises one arm in surrender – the other too busy fighting against Rat who pulls on the leash. She might be tiny, but damn is she energetic. 

“Okay, okay. Sorry. Still discovering alien culture and all.”

“Alien cult-” Ponk stares at him in silence. There’s a mix of profound lassitude and amusement in his eyes.

A weird mix, in Skeppy’s humble opinion.

“Yeah, I’m trying to learn, but I’m still making some mistakes…” he says, shrugging a little. “And Sam Nook said there weren’t any cultural guides made for humans.” He shifts a little under Ponk’s stare. “You good?”

Ponk huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. Do you think the Badlands just recruits people specifically based on how oblivious they are?” 

Skeppy pouts a little as he thinks it through. “I dunno,” he says. “Do you find them oblivious?”

Ponk kneels, not bothering to answer, and he gently coos at Rocco until the dog comes toward him. “There you are!” he says, presenting his hand. Rocco gives a tiny lick, and Ponk beams. He babbles to the dog in that same warm, clicking language, and Skeppy stops paying attention to the translator. Instead, he looks at Rat who runs around happily.

“I wanna get a dog for Sam,” Ponk says suddenly.

“Hm?”

“For Sam,” Ponk continues. “I wanna get him a dog. I mean, for him and me, but also, I think he’d like a dog.” 

Skeppy raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? He wasn’t that interested in Rocco or Rat.”

“That’s 'cause they’re your dogs!” Ponk replies. “Trust me. He was vibrating.” He looks away from Rocco. “I mean, Sam basically considers Sam Nook his weird AI child. Man needs a pet. And I am not getting us a cat.” 

Skeppy blinks. “You know about cats?”

Ponk lets out a very long sigh. “Yup. And about chickens, and goldfish, and elephants.”

Ponk knows so much about Earth! That’s quite impressive. Maybe he learnt from the Enders? Some Enders had seemed pretty fascinated with human culture. Fascinated and terrified.

“Wow.”

“Lil ol’ Ponky is very wise,” Ponk mumbles, returning to petting Rocco. “Anyway. I want to get Sam a dog. Will you come to Earth with me to pick one?”

“To Earth?” Skeppy repeats. “Didn’t- I thought- Sam told me that nobody really visits Earth. Cause humans are supposed to be scary and all.”

Ponk snorts. “Yeah, I’ve heard that too,” he says. 

Skeppy tilts his head a little. “You’re the first alien I’ve met who isn’t scared of humans,” he comments. “Except for Bad obviously.”

There’s amusement in Ponk’s eyes. “You’re not the first oblivious Badland crew member I have met,” he responds. 

“Hey!” Skeppy protests. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Ponk laughs and he stands back up, handing Skeppy Rocco’s leash. “You’ll figure it out one day,” he says. “Maybe.” He pats him on the back. “I’m going to go make some alien rice. Don’t spend too much time outside, there’s a meteor shower coming.”

Skeppy widens his eyes. “Wait what? Is that dangerous? Is that-”

Ponk giggles. “Byyyye!”

Skeppy stays alone, with Rocco and Rat pulling at their leashes.

Ponk is weird.

* * *

Ponk’s not the only weird one. Sometimes, Ranboo gets weird.

When Ponk gets mentioned.

Which means that Ponk is weird.

That makes a lot of sense in Skeppy’s mind.

Ponk is weird and his very mention brings weirdness in Ranboo. Or something.

They’re hanging out in the stargazing room, just the three of them – Bad, Ranboo, and him. 

Skeppy is babbling about the stars. They’re forming shapes together, and Ranboo is chuckling lowly.

“And that one!” Skeppy starts, humming. “That one… We could link these together and make a house shape. See? With the roof like that?”

Bad hums. “Do all humans have houses with triangle roofs?” 

Skeppy nods quickly. “Well, not all of them. Some people live in… rectangular buildings. But when you say a home, normally you make the triangle.”

He makes a triangle shape with his hands, and Bad nods, eyes wide with interest. “That’s so cool! Ranboo, did you know that?”

The Ender tilts his head. “Mhm. Not in detail, but we had some satellite pictures.”

“You spied on us?” Skeppy presses a hand on his chest, pretending to be offended. It would work better if he weren’t laying on the ground, but Skeppy refuses to move. 

Ranboo chuckles. “Not really,” he says. “I was too young. They didn’t let me into big operations.”

“They have big operations?” Skeppy raises his voice. “Wait, they have big operations? Are aliens trying to take over? Are you guys already in area 51? Is everything-”

“Skeppy,” Bad scolds gently. “Breathe.”

Ranboo shrugs a bit. “All Enders do is keep an eye on humans,” he says. “Make sure that you guys don’t become a threat or something.”

“A threat?” Skeppy repeats. “I’m not a threat!”

“Other humans, Skeppy,” Bad tries, giggling. “Not you. We know you’re not a threat.”

Skeppy makes a more offended face. “Hey! I could be a threat! Do you know I almost beat Technoblade?”

Bad chuckles. “No, you didn’t,”

“Sure did!”

“No, you didn’t,”

“Yes, I did!”

“No, you d-”

“You’re lucky there aren’t more humans on this asteroid,” Skeppy pouts. “We would take over so quickly!”

Bad makes a humming sound.

“Do you get along with Ponk, Skeppy?” Ranboo says suddenly.

What a weird fucking subject change.

“Ponk?” he says. “Yeah, he is cool! He makes some super good food! Remind me of home.”

“And?”

Skeppy hums in thoughts. “Funny guy!” he says. “He’s got a weird obsession with Supreme, though.” He pauses before sitting up. “Hey, did you know that Supreme is a brand on Earth too?”

“Yeah?” Bad asks lazily, his eyes still fixed on the stars.

“Yeah, and Ponk is obsessed with them. So… Hear me out, I have a crazy theory.”

“Mhm?”

Ranboo is nodding in interest, his mouth curving into a thin smile. 

“Okay what if- What if Supreme was like… An alien brand? And they had imported it on Earth. And like… What if aliens were already among humans? Heh?”

Ranboo sighs. “Skeppy, I. Nope. I can promise you that aliens are not on Earth.”

“You don’t have to lie, Ranboo! You’re not with the Enders anymore! You’re a pirate now! Admit that Supreme is an alien brand!”

“Why is that the first idea that came to you?” 

“It’s the most logical conclusion!”

Bad hums in agreement. “How else would Ponk know about a brand that exists on Earth?”

“Yeah!” Skeppy exclaims. “How else? Checkmate, Supreme Alien Conspiracy!”

Ranboo stands up. “I think… I think I’m going to go get some rest.”

Bad pouts. “Aw, already?” 

Ranboo shrugs. “Yep. Some stuff to… mmh. Think about.”

Bad gives a tiny nod. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in the morning!”

“Mhm!”

Skeppy waves his hand lazily and Ranboo leaves.

“Weird kid,” Skeppy comments.

“Hey!” Bad scolds, raising an arm to very gently punch him in the shoulder. “Don’t say that, Skeppy!”

Skeppy shrugs. “Just weird when Ponk gets mentioned, actually,” he corrects. “Do you think Ponk is from an Ender-like species?”

Bad is silent for a second before he shakes his head. “Not one I know, at least.”

“Huh.”

Bad pats the spot next to him. “Come back! I want to look at more stars!”

And Skeppy cannot say no to his best friend. 

So he doesn’t. He lays back down, and he takes one of Bad’s hand in his. Bad solidifies next to him, and Skeppy nestles a bit closer.

“Let’s find one that looks like Sam,” he suggests.

Bad giggles, and that is Skeppy’s favourite sound.

* * *

A sound that Skeppy really despises is the sound of the alarms and Sam Nook’s voice monotonously repeating the word ‘Alert.’

It happens far too often in Skeppy’s opinion, and, also, it is never followed with good news.

And this is not an exception.

When they’re finally down fighting back against the absolute assault of Dreamon ships, Ponk is missing.

Sam is paler than Skeppy’s ever seen him and his mandibles chatter far too fast. Bad… Bad is shaking.

“I’m sorry,” Ant repeats. “I tried, I really tried-”

“Hey, you did your best,” Skeppy protests gently. You shot so many of them down! It’s not your fault we were outnumbered…”

Sam is not even speaking.

“Is the kid safe?” Velvet asks, his voice a bit too toneless to be natural.

“I’m here,” Ranboo says, coming out of the ship’s safe room.

“Thank the Cosmos,” Velvet sighs. “I thought- I really thought they were coming for him. What with Dreamons and Enders being hereditary enemies…”

Ant shakes his head. “We’ve got worse than that,” he says, and his eyes move to look at Bad.

Skeppy frowns. “Bad?”

His best friend tenses a little at the sound of his name and Skeppy sees the way he retracts a little bit more onto himself, dematerializing. “I- They don’t really like deserters,” Bad says. “And traitors.”

“They came for you?”

Bad shrugs. “I don’t know, I just-”

“There’s not really a better explanation,” Ant says. “Dreamons are still looking for him. They’re not fucking tenders.”

Bad looks profoundly ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “It’s my fault, I’m-”

“They’re going to ask for a ransom, aren’t they?” Ranboo asks, cutting Bad’s apology off.

“A ransom?” 

“That’s what the fuckers do,” Velvet replies. “Big fucking bullies. When- Mine and Ant’s planet refused to pay them,” he says. “So they destroyed it.”

Skeppy widens his eyes. “What the hell?”

“So that’s probably-” Ant grimaces, his gaze flickering to Sam, who is still immobile, his eyes lost into the void. “I’m really worried about what they’ll do to Ponk if we don’t give them what they want.”

Skeppy frowns. “What do they want?”

There’s a very long silence. 

“Hey,” Skeppy insists. “What do they want?”

Ranboo sucks in a breath. “Dreamons aren’t forgiving,” he says. “They don’t forget those who crossed them.”

No.

No.

“No.”

“Me,” Bad says. “They want me.”

“Nope,” Skeppy says immediately. “Fuck that. We’re not giving them Bad.”

 “They want to kill Ponk!” Bad protests. “I don’t- I’ve escaped once! I could do it again!”

“With how much they hate you?” Ant intervenes. “No chance. They’ll kill you as soon as they get their hands on you!”

Skeppy grimaces. “We can’t let them have him!”

“But Ponk-” Ant begins.

“We can save Ponk! You guys saved me, didn’t you?”

“That was different!” Ant argues. “We somewhat knew where you were being held. Here, it’s-”

“I know,” Sam cuts them off. “I know where they’re taking him.” His voice is too calm. Too cold.

Velvet frowns. “Sam?”

Sam lets out a bitter laugh. “There’s only one place they’d take him.”

He is acting far too cryptic, and Skeppy furrows his eyebrows, moving to take Bad’s hand. He squeezes, but his best friend is still looking at Sam.

“Sam, you don’t think-”

“They’re taking him to the Vault.”

Chapter Text

Contrary to the entirety of the Badlands, the Dreamons seem to know what a human is.

Which means that they immediately understand that Ponk is one.

This isn’t great.

This is far from great.

This…

Honestly, this is a little scary.

The Dreamons don’t say much. They’re far from Bad’s cheerfulness. They’re far from… They’re far from anything that Bad is.

And yet, Ponk knows that those Dreamons are… they’re closer to what Dreamons really are. 

Ponk knows about interstellar history, unlike Skeppy, who seems to have no culture whatsoever. Ponk knows about the war between the Dreamons and the humans.

He had been far away from the battlefront, of course, but he still remembers the fear. He remembers looking up to the skies at night and flinching at the sight of lights. 

He remembers university friends, family members, and neighbours going missing or coming back from the war with deep burns on their faces.

He remembers the whispers about Dreamons.

He remembers the celebrations when they won the war.

So yes, Ponk knows about Dreamons.

Which means that he knows that being captured by Dreamons is… not great.

Which means that he also knows that being a human captured by Dreamons is even worse.

He doesn’t understand what they say because the Dreamons took his translators and won’t bother speaking Common. So, they speak a language full of clicks and hisses and Ponk wishes he could understand.

But also somewhat feels glad not to.

Ignorance is bliss.

They fly for what seems like hours – Ponk isn’t sure – until they start slowing down. Ponk stretches a little to see, and the Dreamons hiss at him.

But it’s too late.

Ponk has seen it.

It being… bad news. 

It being a black building on a planet far too small to harbor such a gigantic installation. It being something that really looks like some kind of space prison.

Shit.

“Can we stop at McDonald’s?” Ponk tries in Common. The Dreamons growl but do not reply. “I’m hungry,” Ponk adds.

 One of the Dreamons raises their gun and Ponk freezes. He knows about those. He’s heard about those.

They burn through one’s skin far too fast. 

“Sorry!” he says quickly, still in Common. “I just-”

A black hand reaches for him and presses against his forehead. He falls asleep before he realizes it. 

* * *

Ponk wakes up and he is in some weird black box.

It’s dark and claustrophobic.

“Hello?” he calls. First in Zulu, then in English, then in Common. “Hello?”

Silence is his only answer.

Ah.

That’s not great.

Ponk lays back in the cell.

He doesn’t have much choice but to wait.

* * *

Ponk wakes up again and there are weird people looking at him.

Dreamons, his mind supplies. Dreamons with masks. Not like Bad.

He glares at the smiling faces.

“I’m hungry,” he says. “Do you guys do pains au chocolat?”

One of the Dreamons growls, and the others let out clicking and hissing sounds.

“I speak Common,” Ponk adds. “Can we speak Common?”

There’s a long silence. 

“Please?”

“Human,” one of the Dreamons says in Common. “We are keeping you here until the Badlands pay the ransom.”

Ponk frowns. “The ransom?”

The Dreamons speak among each other furiously before the same one turns back to Ponk. “There’s a traitor in your crew. We want him.”

“A traitor?” 

Ponk bites his lip. Are they talking about Bad? Is it… Ponk never asked exactly, but it seems strange for a Dreamon to be on his own. It seems strange for a Dreamon not to attack humans on sight. It’s even stranger for Bad not to wear his mask.

Ponk didn’t ask, but he somewhat knew.

“Bad?” he asks. 

The Dreamons scoff. “The deserter? No. We don’t care about him. He will get killed for his cowardice.”

Ponk feels confused now. “Huh.”

“We want the Warden,” they say. “The Engineer.”

Ponk pouts. “Yup. No. Dunno what you’re talking about.” 

The Dreamon hisses. “The one who calls himself Sam,” they say. “We want him back.”

Sam?

Sam?

Why do they want Sam? 

That makes no sense, Sam never even mentioned the Dreamons.

That’s dumb.

Wait. 

They want him back?

As in, they already had him?

“You’re strange,” he says. “Sammy doesn’t know you guys.”

They hiss more. “He built the Vault and then left,” the Dreamon says. “This was a breach of the contract! He is meant to serve us.”

Ponk frowns. 

He built…?

Sam built the Vault? Is this the Vault?

Wait-

Sam worked with the Dreamons? 

That makes no sense.

(And yet).

And yet, it does make sense.

This is how Sam and Bad met.

It makes sense.

And Ponk isn’t certain how to feel about this. He doesn’t know what to say about the fact that Sam, Ponk’s closest friend in the crew, used to work for a species that swore to eradicate humanity.

It’s not great.

But also, clearly, the Dreamons named Sam a traitor. Which means… Which means that he betrayed them. For Bad, probably. For Bad, and for humanity, even if that was an indirect consequence of his actions.

So Sam… Sam’s still in Ponk’s good books.

Even if all of this is… worrying.

* * *

There’s one problem, Ponk realizes after hours staring at the black stones of his cell.

There’s a problem and it’s linked to the fact that they put Ponk in a cell in a prison that Sam apparently built. 

There are two options, really:

One, the Dreamons are absolute idiots and none of them realized that it might be foolish to put their prisoner in the one place in which the Badlands will have no issue breaking, since one of their crew members literally built it. In which case, they are idiots.

Two, the Dreamons are not idiots. They know very well that Sam knows how to enter the prison, and they put Ponk there as bait, expecting the Badlands not to pay the ransom and to come to break him out instead. And so, they would have prepared a trap.

In which case they are fucked.

Because Ponk is absolutely certain that his fellow crewmates are not just… going to give Sam or Bad away – whichever one it is that the Dreamons are asking for.

But Ponk also trusts that they’re not going to leave him to rot. 

Because the Badlands members are amazing people – each of them, and Ponk knows that they are family.

This is… problematic.

Because as much as Ponk loves them and would love to be the subject of a rescue mission, he also fully refuses to be the bait in a trap meant to capture Sam.

That’s just… Not fair.

Ponk doesn’t like them very much.

* * *

“Human,” a Dreamon calls.

“Sup?” Ponk responds, raising his head. “Do you have some snacks?”

“A ransom note has been sent to your companions.”

“Ah.”

“You better hope that they care about you. We let them know what would happen if the traitors weren’t delivered.”

Ponk frowns. “Hey, wait. The traitors? Plural?”

“We want the deserter and the Warden.”

Ponk scrunches his nose. “You guys really aren’t cool.”

“Will they, or will they not pay the ransom?”

Ponk shrugs. “Dunno. Wait and see.”

The Dreamon hisses angrily and leaves. Ponk remains in his cell. 

This is not great.

* * *

Sam is a genius, and it seems pretty important for everyone to know that. 

Ponk has always known, of course, but still. He still feels pretty impressed. 

Because Sam not only built an inescapable prison for the Dreamons to use, he also built an inescapable prison for any alien species. Including Dreamons.

Ponk vaguely remembers the fact that Bad is not able to dematerialize if a certain sound frequency is played. And, clearly, it’s played everywhere in the prison.

Or something like that.

Because the Dreamons have to manually open the door to his cell, instead of just slipping into it.

And, since Ponk wails about being hungry and wanting snacks for hours, the Dreamons eventually give in, eager to make him shut up.

Whether they want to quieten him by meeting his demands or forcing him to pass out does not matter much.

Because Ponk doesn’t really care. 

The door opens, and he bolts.

He uses his hand to slam the door into the Dreamon’s face and he runs.

And well, obviously there are dozens of Dreamons everywhere, which makes an escape attempt a bit difficult.

Ponk is nothing but determined, though, and humans have a really neat thing called adrenaline, which Ponk takes full advantage of. 

He runs. 

He dodges the Dreamons as best as he can. The bastards do have some weird laser guns, though, and Ponk yells in pain when one of the shots gets to him, instantly leaving a deep burn mark on his shoulder.

He doesn’t stop, though.

He doesn’t stop.

He keeps running through the hallways, not even bothering to look into the other cells. He keeps running until he makes his way into what looks like some kind of weird entrance.

There’s an alarm blaring, and the doors are locked.

Shit.

Sam is too smart.

Ponk groans and he turns back. There are some storage compartments all around him and, through the hallway, Dreamons coming. 

Bitches.

Ponk grabs one of the boxes, opening it, and he throws all of its content at them. “Take that!” he says as he chucks something that looks like a weird fishing rod at them. “And that, and that, and that!”

The Dreamons dematerialize to avoid his attacks (bastards) but Ponk refuses to give up. 

It doesn’t take him long to realize that the contents of the boxes are visibly prisoners’ belongings.

It takes him a bit longer to find his box. 

He finds it, though, all the way to the top – which makes sense, since he is probably their newest prisoner – and he happily reunites with his scarf, his picture of Kanye, and a few more of the objects he had on him when the Dreamons attacked. 

Which includes a few homemade alien-styled muffins, which is pretty sweet.

What’s less sweet is the way the Dreamons finally merge on him, reaching their arms toward him. What’s less sweet is the touch of an inky black hand to his forehead. 

He faints.

* * *

He wakes back up in his cell with a pounding headache.

But, along with his headache, he also discovers that the Dreamons visibly didn’t bother with searching him when they chucked him back in the black box. 

Case in point: they didn’t empty his pockets.

He hasn’t managed to keep his very crunched muffin, which is not great since the Dreamons have apparently not understood the concept of feeding their prisoners.

He does have a picture of Kanye, though. It gives him strength.

But, what’s better is what he has in the second pocket.

A communicator.

Dreamons are dumb.

“Human,” a Dreamon calls. “We have chosen not to kill you for the sake of the exchange with your companions. If you attempt to escape again, we will not be so lenient. You will learn the consequences of rebellion.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ponk responds, rolling his eyes. 

There’s no movement behind the door, but Ponk knows better. He knows how quiet Bad can be when he wants to, and he also knows that the likelihood of the Dreamons leaving him without surveillance is close to none.

He presses the button on his communicator before looking back up toward the door. “Heyo, Dreamon dudes!” he calls. “Bring me some croissants!”

The communicator makes a crackling sound and Ponk just has the time to hear a confused ‘Ponk?’ before he shuts it off.

“What was that?” the Dreamon demands. 

Ponk shoves the communicator back into his pocket. “My stomach,” he covers. “Our stomachs growl when we get hungry.”

The Dreamon makes a scoffing sound before they choose to speak to their companions. They must confirm Ponk’s words, because there are no more questions.

Ponk stays in the cell, with a crunched muffin, a disconnected communicator, and a hint of hope.

Chapter Text

Purpled is a space mercenary. A bounty hunter. He takes missions, he completes them, he collects his payment, he leaves.

That’s how it’s supposed to work. This is what his mentor, Punz, had taught him. You complete the mission. It shouldn’t matter to you who your employer is, what they actually want, and why. They pay you for a mission, you complete it, you go. 

That’s all it has to be.

A few years ago, a human rescued him after he crashed on Earth. And then the human had paid him. It was easy. A short trip around the galaxy and Purpled could go home with all the human technology he had ever dreamt of. 

Just for a short trip – no string attached.

Except Purpled made himself some strings. He didn’t even think before throwing a communicator to the human, promising to come to his rescue, were he ever to need help.

And then Ponk never used it. 

They met one another a few times, after that, and Purpled was able to see that Ponk is clearly happy among the Badlands crew. 

The first time their paths crossed after Ponk decided to live amongst the pirates, Purpled saw the entire crew freeze and some of them put their hands on their weapons. And then Ponk had leapt forward and wrapped his arm around Purpled. 

And they had all relaxed.

So they meet every once in a while – just two friends meeting up and catching up on their lives, and Ponk coos at Dogchamp, a grey dog Purpled collected from Earth last time he went there to exchange some of Ponk’s money against some weird technological devices. 

So Purpled made two exceptions to the mercenary code: one, he attached some strings to one of his missions. Two, he decided never to take missions regarding the Badlands’ crew. 

It’s pretty straightforward, pretty easy to follow, and most of his employers don’t even question it. There are plenty of other missions to be had.

And so Purpled lives with his two exceptions. 

They don’t really impact his life or his career. 

Up until the moment the communicator crackles. 

‘Heyo, Dreamon dudes!’ a voice says in an accented Common, ‘Bring me some croissants!’

Purpled freezes. This communicator hasn’t been used in years. Purpled kept it as a memento, more than a real tool. And yet-

He grabs the device and presses the broadcasting button. 

“Ponk?”

There’s no answer.

“Ponk?” Purpled tries again. “Can you hear me?”

Silence.

Purpled winces. This is definitely not good. Not good at all.

“Ponk?” he insists. But even with his insistence, he is not surprised when there’s no answer. He somewhat sensed it coming.

“Oh, for Cosmos’s sake, Ponk,” he groans. Of course the human couldn’t bother and make things clear for him and just tell him that he needed help and where he was. That would be too easy.

But he used the communicator. 

And Ponk doesn’t use the communicator. They’ve been in touch, but through their AI’s communication devices. 

‘Hey, yo, I’m not using a walkie-talkie when we have Star Wars holograms!” Ponk had protested. 

And so Purpled had agreed to rely on more modern communication devices. 

So-

Ponk doesn’t use the communicator. 

And, more than that, as far as Purpled is aware, Ponk only has one Dreamon crewmate. A Dreamon who barely acknowledges his own Dreamon nature. A Dreamon whose name Ponk knows and uses.

And what had Ponk said?

‘Dreamon dudes, bring me some croissants!’?

That was clearly not directed to Purpled. Purpled is an Ender, thank you very much. And that was also probably not directed to Bad.

And, also, Ponk used the communicator.

Purpled presses his head to the command board.

Maybe there’s a reason they tell bounty hunters to keep no strings attached.

* * *

It takes Purpled a very short amount of time to figure out what most likely happened. 

Ponk’s been captured. Ponk’s been captured and, for some reason, his crew didn’t come to free him immediately. This is why the message was cryptic, and this is why Ponk is no longer answering.

How Ponk even managed to hide the communicator from his kidnappers is not something Purpled manages to understand, and it seems way far above his pay grade.

(Except that he isn’t paid at all. He is here by himself, of his own decision).

It also doesn’t take Purpled too long to figure out who Ponk’s kidnappers are. To be fair, that one isn’t too difficult either. Ponk mentioned ‘Dreamon dudes,’ and Purpled knows very well that there are very very few rogue Dreamons. 

So the likelihood of Ponk having been kidnapped by a group of rogue Dreamons is pretty null. 

Purpled also knows about Bad having betrayed his own, and about Sam having run away from his obligations. He knows the Dreamon Empire hates the Badland perhaps more than the Ender army. They pay more for their heads at least. Too bad Purpled is an Ender, and thus pretty much unable to make any deals with Dreamons. 

So-

Ponk was captured by the Dreamon Empire. For some reason.

Which also means that Purpled knows instinctively where his friend is. Which is both a relief and also pretty bad news. On the one hand, he knows where Ponk is.

On the other hand, no Ender has ever come out alive of the Vault.

Not that Purpled underestimates his abilities or anything. But still- it is the Vault. And Enders, the Dreamons’ hereditary enemies, do not really last long in there.

So Purpled would really need some extra knowledge of the place before he barges in to save his friend.

It turns out he may or may not know the right people for that.

* * *

‘Contact with the Badlands achieved,’ the ship’s AI says, ‘Video conference underway.’

Purpled sits back down in his seat, and he waits for the video to appear.

“Purpled?” Bad sounds worried and Purpled allows himself to feel a little relieved. Though he had been quite certain of his analysis, it is good to know that he wasn’t wrong. That Bad didn’t suddenly find himself a group of Dreamon friends and decide to hate humans. And it’s good to know that they are searching for Ponk. “Listen, it’s not that it’s not good to hear from you, but-”

“Hey, is that Purpled?” This is a voice Purpled doesn’t recognize. Bad reaches a hand out of the camera’s field, and it comes back attached to a human.

A second one.

What the fuck, do they collect them or something?

“Hello?” he greets uncertainly.

“Hey!” the human greets in some Earthling language – maybe the one Ponk used to speak? Purpled isn’t certain. Ponk took very rapidly to using Common. “I’m Skeppy! I’ve heard about you!”

Purpled blinks. “Yeah, wish I could say the same,” he responds. “I didn’t know they picked up another human.”

The human, Skeppy, raises an eyebrow. “Another?” He turns to Bad. “Do you pick up a lot of humans, Bad?”

Bad giggles. “Just you,” he says, moving to press their foreheads together.

Purpled coughs loudly, and Bad turns back to him. 

“Sorry,” the Dreamon says. “Like I was saying, it’s not really a good time for-”

“I need the Vault’s plans.”

Bad freezes. “The V-”

“The Vault is the Dreamon prison, isn’t it?” Skeppy asks earnestly. “The one Sam spoke about?”

“The one Sam built,” Purpled corrects.

Skeppy pouts. “Yup, I knew that.” He turns back to Bad, who still hasn’t uttered a sound. The Dreamon is watching them, eyes wide. “Why do you want the plans?”

Purpled scoffs. “Why do you think?”

“Ponk contacted you?” Bad finally manages to ask. “Is he okay? Is he safe? What did he say?”

“He is definitely not safe, your people are holding him,” Purpled responds. 

Bad flinches. “They aren’t my people,” he protests immediately. He looks… almost hurt. 

Skeppy almost immediately reaches for him, whispers something that the mics cannot pick up. Bad swallows thickly before nodding and standing up. He leaves, and Skeppy remains in front of the camera.

“Is he-”

“Don’t compare him to Dreamons again,” Skeppy says immediately. “I will punch you. Us humans have limb stretching abilities.”

Purpled scoffs. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes I-” Skeppy pauses, pouting. “Do all Enders know a lot of stuff about humans?”

That’s right, they do have one Ender on board. Ponk told Purpled about it. A youngling whom they had captured in the hope to use him for negotiations. As if. Enders are a collectivist people, rather than individualistic. If a few of them have to be sacrificed for the well-being of the group, then so be it.

“Enough,” Purpled responds. “Is he going to get me the plans?”

Skeppy scrunches his nose. “You don’t need to intervene,” he says. “We were going to go free Ponk ourselves. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, no, that’s stupid,” Purpled immediately comments. “Most of your crew would be endangered. Everyone knows that the Dreamon Empire has a personal vendetta against Bad and Sam. You’re a human; they hate humans. And the other kid you’ve got?” He points to the background with his chin. “An Ender. Hereditary enemy.”

Skeppy frowns. “You’re an Ender.”

“I’m a mercenary.”

“Well, I’m a pirate!” Skeppy protests. “And I-”

“Skeppy?” There’s a new voice joining the call and, in a blink, Antfrost is within the camera frame. Purpled inclines his head in greeting. 

The alien comes a bit closer. “You need the plans?” he asks, as if it weren’t already very clear that this is the only reason for Purpled’s call. Purpled nods. “How much?”

“What?”

“You’re a bounty hunter. A mercenary. I know your kind. I knew your mentor.” Purpled grimaces at the mention of Punz who had died after a mission with the Dreamon went wrong. “So I’m asking: how much do you want?”

Purpled blinks. “Not that I don’t want any payment but… I’m the one asking to get the plans.”

Ant sighs, and his dozens of eyes squint at him. “You’re offering to rescue Ponk. That comes with a price, doesn’t it.”

Purpled hesitates. 

On the one hand, he could get some good credits out of this. He’s seen the look of the pirates’ treasure when he visited Foolish on asteroid H-233. Clearly, there is some potential there.

But also, Ponk is his friend.

“We can discuss this later,” Purpled says instead of admitting to some strange fondness of heart. “I need the plans.”

Ant sighs deeply. “We can have them sent to you,” he responds. “But-”

“Perfect. The sooner the better. Dreamons are assholes; I’d rather Ponk not stay with them too long.”

Ant frowns. “We would be okay without you,” he says. “We were planning a breakout.”

Purpled rolls his eyes. “You’re smarter than that. You know the Dreamon Empire is after most of you. Going in would be suicide.”

Ant hisses a little, but he does not protest. Purpled clearly hit where it hurts. Skeppy smiles a little and he reaches a hand to rub his friend on the back. 

“What’s your plan, then?” 

Purpled hesitates. “Actually,” he says slowly. “Actually, I could maybe use some help.”

* * *

To be fair to the Badlands, having them on his side does make Purpled’s job a lot easier. He is a lone mercenary – he doesn’t usually work in groups (save for some two-people jobs he did with Punz back in the days). But this? This does make it a lot easier.

With Bad and Skeppy piloting the Badlands’ ship and firing at any Dreamon spaceship that would come for reinforcement and Sam remotely deactivating any of the protections around and within the Vault, Purpled’s job is made easier. 

Infiltrating the prison and fighting the guards remains his responsibility, but it is also nice to know that he is followed by Ant and Velvet, all guns and fangs, ready to defend him and take care of the Dreamons as soon as Purpled has immobilized them with the right frequencies. He does shoot a few, but he mostly keeps his eyes on objective number one.

Finding Ponk. 

When he eventually finds the right cell, it only takes a brief message to Sam before the doors slide open without resistance. Too easy.

“Heyo Purpled,” Ponk says in greeting. “Did you bring some croissants?”

And then he faints.

Shit.

Chapter Text

Ponk waits for what seems like an eternity in the dumb black cell.

He doesn’t move.

“Hey!” he calls. “Have you heard about food? Us humans need it!”

There’s no answer.

So Ponk waits.

Longer.

Far longer.

He gets… sleepy. Hungry. His heart starts beating faster, and he feels himself shake a little.

And then, finally, there are alarms ringing everywhere through the prison. Ponk lets himself slouch against the wall. 

He feels dizzy.

He is hungry, and sweaty, and shaky, and all around not great.

There are screams in a language he doesn’t understand, and some shots.

And then the door opens.

Ponk smiles weakly to his friend, armed to the teeth, and visibly more than prepared to take over an entire Dreamon fortress.

“Heyo Purpled,” he says. “Did you bring some croissants?”

And then, because Purpled finally found him, because he must be out of trouble, Ponk faints.

* * *

Ponk wakes up in a bed. 

Huh.

Aliens still haven’t understood the concept of a pillow though, so Ponk is just laying completely flat. 

And there’s an argument. They haven’t put his translator back, and so Ponk can only understand part of the conversation.

And by part, it means that he can understand Purpled’s furious words.

“- really don’t care,” he is saying. “Ponk’s not waking up. Just fucking- Listen. Just- Just take Skeppy and-”

He hears Bad hiss in response, and Purpled sighs.

“Don’t fucking- No. No we’re not going to hurt him. Just scan him.”

Sam’s voice comes in, quiet and calm, and Ponk notices that his friend is right next to him – but not attentive enough to realize that he is awake.

“To compare them!” Purpled exclaims. “So we can figure out what’s wrong with Ponk! That just… It makes sense!”

“Why would you want to compare us?” Skeppy asks, in English. There are some other sounds, too. Bad seems incredulous, and Ant and Velvet seem to be trying to speak as loud as they can.

Purpled lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh Cosmos,” he says slowly. “Are you all…? What kind of clueless crew has-”

“Yup,” Ranboo confirms from the back of the room. “They don’t know. None of them do.”

There are more sounds. A cacophony of protests in languages Ponk doesn’t understand. And then-

“Not even Skeppy?”

“Hey!” Skeppy exclaims. “What don’t I know?”

As far as Ponk is aware, Purpled is a very good fighter. But he isn’t really trained in diplomacy. Or subtlety. Or tact.

Which means that it is no surprise when Purpled’s reply is completely blunt:

“Ponk’s a human.”

But again, if Purpled’s lack of subtlety is not shocking to Ponk, it doesn’t mean that the reveal is any less world-shattering for the crewmates.

“Fucking what?” comes in perfect English, quickly followed by what Ponk assumes in a scold in Dreamon. 

“Oh,” Ranboo comments. “So you just? Hm… Okay then. Okay.”

“Wait, Ranboo, you knew?” Skeppy questions incredulously. 

There’s a small humming sound. “I tried to hint at it,” the Ender mumbles.

“How are you all so oblivious?” Purpled scoffs. And Ponk stops caring about the rest. Because he can feel Sam right next to him, one of his hands reaching for his.

Sam’s hand is warm. Ponk squeezes gently before interlacing their fingers, and he hears Sam inhales sharply. “Ponk?” And then there are some more rapid words that Ponk cannot understand.

He hates to remove his hand from Sam’s hold but he does so, just for a second, to tap against his ear. “Translator,” he says in a hoarse voice. 

He opens his eyes to see Sam nod quickly and turn to yell something to Ant and Ponk. Around him, all conversations have ceased.

Skeppy comes closer to his bed, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” he says slowly.

“Hey yourself,” Ponk replies in perfect English.

Skeppy looks like he cannot really compute the conversation. “You’re-”

“A human,” Ponk smiles. “Surprise!”

“What the fuck. Dude, I didn’t even- You kept it hidden so well!”

Ponk giggles. “I think the problem wasn’t as much me hiding it as you all being oblivious idiots.”

Purpled snorts. 

“And Ranboo!” Skeppy insists. “He didn’t say anything?”

Ranboo shrugs vaguely. “Wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Skeppy blinks rapidly. “But you- You weren’t speaking English?”

“You’re aware that there are more languages than English on Earth, right?” Ponk chuckles. “Plus, Purpled taught me Common.”

Skeppy scrunches his nose but does not reply.

“And how do you think we got such high-quality translators?” Ponk insists. “It was all thanks to good ol’ Ponky!”

“Speaking of translators,” Purpled begins, right before Ant arrives running, the translator clasped in his tail. He drops it on the bed, and Ponk moves to press it into his ear.

“Ponk?” Sam tries again. “Can you understand us now?” The translator chatters quietly into Ponk’s ear and he gives a nod.

“Communication achieved,” he grins. “Now. Sammyyyyyyyyyyyy!” 

He whines and Sam stands up straighter. “Ponk, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “We read the ransom note. It’s my fault that you got captured, and-”

“Don’t care,” Ponk cuts him. “I’m super hungry. I want some croissants.”

“Some croissants?” Purpled repeats. “I thought that was some codeword or-”

Ponk scrunches his nose. “Partly. But also I’ve got low blood sugar. Dreamons are bitches.” He glances to Bad before amending: “Except Bad.”

Bad makes a small nod. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Ponk, I-”

“I can’t hear any apologies over how hungry I am,” Ponk interrupts. “I want some croissaaaaaants!”

“How about muffins?” Bad offers. “I can bake some muffins?”

Ponk pouts. “Passable.” Bad nods and quickly moves away. 

“Passable?” Skeppy repeats. “Bad makes the best muffins in the whole goddamn galaxy!”

Ponk grimaces playfully. “Who do you think taught him?”

A second of silence. “Oh.”

Purpled snorts again. “I can’t with them,” he comments quietly, shaking his head. 

“That’s right, bucko! I taught your bestie everything there is to know about good human cooking!” 

Skeppy blinks several times. “I think- I think I need to walk Rocco,” he declares. “Or help Bad in the kitchen. Or-” He moves away, and Ponk giggles when he hears him scream a bit louder: “Baaaaad! Ponk has been gatekeeping, gaslighting, girlbossing us! Baaaaaaad!”

“Humans are so fucking weird,” Velvet comments quietly, and Purpled chuckles. 

“Wait,” Sam says slowly from where he still stands. His hand moves to grab Ponk’s again. “Did you- When you showed me your face, did you try to tell me?”

Ponk shrugs. “I guess,” he responds. “But you were scared, so I didn’t insist.” He pauses. “Silly Sammy Wammy.”

Sam smiles fondly – almost tenderly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have- I’m not scared of you, Ponk. I…” Ponk watches his mandibles chatter nervously. “I really care about you.”

Ponk squeezes his hand. “I know,” he replies softly. He hoists himself up and gently pulls on Sam’s hand until his friend leans in. They press their foreheads together. “You’re dumb, Sammy.”

Sam chuckles before moving away. He brings one of his hands forward and carefully tugs on Ponk’s scarf until it reveals the lower part of his face. He earnestly presses one finger to Ponk’s nose.

“Boop!” Ponk declares very seriously.

Ant looks at them with so much incomprehension in his eyes, and Ponk dissolves into laughter. 

And, after all, it might be all that he needs.

He has a loving crew – a family – who took the most secure prison in the galaxy by storm to get him back. He has excellent friends – some more oblivious than others. He has Sam (also an oblivious idiot).

Judging by the scent that comes from the kitchen, he is also about to have a platter of muffins all to himself. 

(He’ll share with Sam). (Maybe).

And Ponk also knows that the Badlands has an incredible future ahead of them, and an entire universe to explore.

Life is good for humans in space.