Chapter Text
Humans were a seemingly weak species: thin skin, soft bellies, unprotected arteries, rounded digits and small canines despite their love for meat. They were the most recent discovery within transgalactic studies and their unassuming nature inspired academics to attempt formal contact.
The young race had slowly spread out to other planets within their solar system, all habitable planets and moons dotted with closed off cities connected by various subway systems. A fact that greatly excited the general public. A new species didn’t always guarantee it would be as advanced as already established ones.
The excitement soon turned to unease when the first ships to enter the Copernican System were all swiftly shot down without a word being exchanged. The unease quickly morphed into anxiety when all human communications had a strong undercurrent of hostility with strange weapons kept carefully in the background. The unease flipped dramatically to fear when an entire Daedrum fleet was decimated from the inside before being blown to bits.
Humans had just entered the transgalactic scene by defeating the strongest, and cruelest, bully in the prison yard without so much as a sweat being broken.
-
Tommy didn’t know how long he had been in space or how far he had traveled. All he knew was he was sore and hungry and that today was a medical day.
He never got food on medical days, or much water.
Instead, Tommy would be pulled from the same cage he had been in for god knows how long (he had long since grown too big for it, but his captors didn’t care) early in the 'day'. A chain would connect the thick metal cuffs on his wrists to the tight pronged rubber and glass collar on his neck. One of the guards, an ugly bastard with large sunken eyes, two nostrils and a jagged line in its armored face marking its mouth, would pull on the chain, letting out a churring laugh when Tommy made any complaints.
Tommy could walk to the lab without guidance, having made the trek enough to map out the section of the ship he had access to in his mind. The ship contained a series of rooms all connected to a hallway, of which would meet in a circular central room. The room had black and brown furniture with gold detailing, along the sterile white walls various types of muscular aliens stood with axes or tridents.
He said nothing as he went through the room. No matter what he did the guards would ignore him anyway, only ever offering a grunt of annoyance if Tommy was loud enough. Bastards.
The lab was the same as usual, tall purple freaks and weird fish people milling about with silver tools Tommy didn’t know the name of. The guards didn’t follow him in, even if they did the purple guys would kick them out with a series of warbling trills that barely registered in his shitty ‘translator’ (it was mostly static and any English spit out sounded like a scuffed Siri).
After a few moments of standing awkwardly, one of the aliens would pull him to a steel table covered in white paper. They unclip the chain on his restraints, tug at the shitty clothes he had been forced into and wait for him to strip.
Cold scaly hands place him in the necessary position and tie him down to table, a punishment earned after Tommy stabbed as many of the scientist bitches he could in the first few weeks of being here. He thinks that the thick leather is overkill, it’s not like he’s tried since then.
Bright lights disorient him as he stares resolutely at the ceiling. Different hands take different tools to Tommy’s skin, uncaring of his rigid muscles and sniffles. Bile slowly boils up in his throat and heavy dampness pushes against the back of his eyes and he wants to rip off his skin and scrub every inch with bleach.
After god knows how long, the freaks stop touching him. The steel table has sucked every modicum of heat from his body, his skin feels too small for his insides and his bones creak with every movement. Sometimes they hand him a new, different colored gown and take him back to the cage room.
Other times he’s led to an empty white room with a glass wall, he’s usually drugged or left with whatever they want him to mess with. It was days, weeks if he was unlucky, of being keenly watched by a group of white coated alien fucking freaks. Like he was the weird one here. (He’s distantly aware that he is the freak in the situation but that was an issue for another time).
The worst end result, like today, Tommy’s left tied to the table and nothing else happens. The aliens walk in and out, talking in whistles and trills as they all look at whatever the fuck it is they need him for, and just leave him there.
Part of him knows it could be worse. He could’ve been beaten or starved again as the aliens never had much mercy with punishments but this was… degrading .
Of course Tommy is acutely aware that the aliens think he’s fucking braindead but it’s much harder to ignore stuck like this. It’s one thing when his captors treat him like a prisoner, it’s another when he’s treated like a lab rat.
When he’s finally taken back to his cage, this time dressed in a knee length lime green gown with long sleeves. He rubs at his arms in hopes to warm them up as he walks along the pearl white halls.
Tommy passes by seven empty cages and stands in front the open door of the eighth. It’s barely four feet by four feet with three inch thick bars for walls, a thin blue blanket lines the bottom. A small white pillow sits in the corner, underneath it sits his brother's lighter and necklace, two items that snuck with him on the ship.
The guard, a large, buff thing with brown and pink skin and a pig face. The dickhead is dressed in an all black uniform with a neon green symbol stitched into the right breast. Their hooves clack harshly against the ground and a staticy ‘get in’ crackles through his translator.
Not wishing to face the wrath of a ten foot tall asshole with a giant gold ax, Tommy ignores his creaking joints and crawls into his cage. He presses himself against the side furthest from the door and pulls his knees to his chest.
His stomach is twisting painfully, his mouth is bone fucking dry and the guard leaves him alone in a dark room surrounded by empty cages.
-
Tommy doesn’t know when he started paying attention to details, particularly the subtle curves of peoples mouths and the careful scrunches of eyes. Each move had meaning, all curated perfectly and executed to explain the meaning between the lines of one’s words.
Part of it was genuine curiosity. How would these people react to this joke? What are their opinions? Will their eyes widen or squeeze almost shut in confusion? Will Tommy get the shit beat out of himself again?
A majority of it was fear. Has this come across right? Do they think he’s funny? Does he sound stupid? Will Tommy get the shit beat out of himself again?
He wasn’t sure what it was about him, but Tommy had long since figured out something about him was very punchable.
-
The ship had stopped.
There was usually an ever present whirring sound, just a bit in the distance, never loud enough to interrupt the conversation of the alien dickheads. Tommy figured it must be the engine but he was on an alien space ship, so fuck if he knows.
A few footsteps swept by, loud trills and chirps Tommy recognized as the fish guys. They were a pale gray with blue blotching their cheeks and ears (which made sense as they had blue blood, a fact Tommy learned after stabbing a few. No one died he doesn’t think, but he could be wrong).
They must be at a trade hub. Sometimes other prisoners would be brought back, always weak things with thick tear tracks and broken bones. They never lasted long, the captain of the ship would eventually come to the lab and kill them.
The captain would stare at Tommy as the blood would spill despite the screeches from the doctors. His mask was a pale, washed out gray-green metal plate with a black smiley face etched on. Despite the lack of eye holes, Tommy could feel them boring directly into his soul.
He would stare back, mouth pressed in a tight line. The captain wanted a reaction, something to punish Tommy for but he wasn’t opposed to switching gears if Tommy was entertaining enough. If he could make the asshole laugh, or if he was good, the captain would pull away from the other prisoner.
The door to the cell room hissed open and a pale yellow light flooded the dark room, blinding Tommy. One of the fish people came to grab him, the usual guards not in the hallways.
The guards usually left when at trade hubs. Tommy was left alone with a group of pussy ass fish people with soft skulls.
He could escape.
-
Logstedshire was surprisingly cold for an mainly aquatic planet with long stretches of beach and coastal forests with long thin trees. Very few animals made noise aside from hostile mobs that hid in the depths of the palm trees and ferns.
A strong gust of wind pushed harshly against Tubbo’s paper thin wings. He shivered harshly and licked his lips, grimacing at the salty taste of the sea air. “Why must all the cool shit be on the worst planets?”
Ranboo huffed out a laugh and rolled his miss matched eyes, “You’re the reason we’re here, my esteemed traveler,” the Enderian leaned away from the hand going to smack his stomach, “We just need to find Hypnos’ shop.”
Tubbo grumbled under his breath, it's not like his husband was wrong. Phil offered to restock at Logstedshire rather than waiting until Las Nevadas because a black market seller with ties to Earth was based here.
A scrofa juvenile body checks Ranboo harshly, which Tubbo laughs at, and the two continue to slip and slide through the densely crowded streets of Logstedshire. Keeping their hands firmly into their pockets, the two were careful to protect themselves from pickpockets.
In the distance, Ranboo sees the telltale neon green of Hypnos and pushes through the crowd to get to the stall. At the same time, Tubbo sees a tall, thin figure arguing with another Bombuzian.
Shifting over, Tubbo tries to listen to the conversation. It’s one-sided as the Bombuzian tries to explain the price of everything as the tall guy makes quick motions pointing towards their head then towards the devices on the table. Maybe neither of them have translators.
Swooping in just as the tall one slams their hand against the table, Tubbo begins talking to the seller. “What’s going on?”
“I’ve been trying to tell this jackass he doesn’t have enough for the translator and that even if he could there’s no earpiece to it,” the clerk is quick to spill, words filled with frustration, “I don’t know what his fucking problem is.”
Turning towards the guy, Tubbo asks the same question. Instead of responding verbally, he points to his ear again and flips his thumb up while his other fingers tuck into his palm. Then he points to where Tubbo presumes a mouth would be behind the mask and turns his thumb to face the ground.
Wracking his brain, Tubbo’s mind flips through every dictionary and shitty language course he took to try and figure out what this guy was trying to say. It’s a mechanics stall with translators, and it’s obvious the guy needed something with them but his signs were weird.
Thumbs up for his ears and thumbs down for his mouth. Could he not hear? One of them must mean something good and the other is bad, but what exactly?
Slowly, Tubbo opens his mouth and lets words piece themselves together in his head as he speaks, “You can speak but you can’t… hear?”
Despite Tubbo’s unsure tone the other shopper lets out a high pitched tone. His head bobs up and down quickly, then he puts up two fingers and twists his hand so they swap places. He repeats it a few times before making the pointing signs again.
Excitement buzzes through Tubbo, he must have been close! Ok. Ok. Maybe it was the other way around then.
“You can hear us but you can’t talk?”
The guy jumps up and flips both thumbs up. Tubbo’s wings flutter against one another quickly, he got it right! Turning back to the seller, who's been watching the two intently, Tubbo slips back into the buzzing vibrato of his mother tongue, “He needs a mouthpiece for his translator. Understands us but can’t say anything back.”
The seller hands the device over and the stranger whoops loudly and places a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. They squeeze and shake him gently, high pitched words falling from behind their mask and Tubbo can’t help the bubbling warmth in his tummy.
Tubbo stays nearby as the stranger turns away to fit the mouthpiece under their mask, “How does it feel?”
He himself had felt weird with the translator the first time he put it on. The plastic and glass of the device clunky against his skull and jaw, but he grew used to it the more he talked to others. The stranger says a few more sounds with upward lilts that cause Tubbo’s own translator to pause.
Which was strange as Tubbo’s translator was the most up to date model on the market. So, his new friend must speak a lesser known language.
…
. . .
HIS NEW FRIEND SPEAKS A LESSER KNOWN LANGUAGE!
“Ohmystars! I can hear you, sort of! What’s your name?” Tubbo leans in close to the stranger's face, wings lifting him up, “Where are you from? Are you from the Avakare system? I’ve never met a creeperian before if you are!”
The stranger leans back and puts their hands on Tubbo’s chest, gently pushing him down, “Slow- decelerate! I am not understand you.”
Oh woah, Tubbo’s hasn’t had to do this much piecing together in years. “What is your name?”
“Tah- mee,” the stranger’s words crackle, “I am Tommy. You are called?”
“My name is Tubbo!” Grabbing hold of his new friend's hand, Tubbo begins to lead the other to another shop with words already spilling out of his mouth. Tommy lets himself be taken wherever, his own loud words registering in Tubbo’s translator now.
-
Tommy had never seen an alien like Tubbo, a large bee-like body with an almost humanoid head with five brown eyes and two dark brown mandibles on either side of his mouth. He didn’t wear any clothes other than six gloves for each hand and a pair of black working boots.
In another world Tommy might’ve been scared but he had lived with uglier bastards that were much meaner. Sticking close, Tommy’s throat scratched with all the sudden use but Prime this was exciting!
No one else had asked for his name in space, and he wasn’t going to waste this chance to just talk to someone.
“Where are you from?”
Oh yeah, that was a normal thing to ask someone new, huh? Tommy almost stumbles over his feet just from shock, how would he answer?
“The Avakare System? I thought you were a [...] when I see you first time, but I am not a [...] just a student,” Tubbo’s question continued to gain more context as he continued on speaking, unaware of Tommy’s brain struggling to even keep up. Some of the words just couldn’t translate and he didn’t know any fucking planets.
After a few moments of silence from Tubbo, he realizes it’s his turn to speak, “Uhm, yeah, I’m from Avacara. I just like, go where the wind takes me…” coughing at Tubbo’s continued silence Tommy lamely tacks on, “I’m a traveler.”
Tubbo nods and begins talking excitedly about shit Tommy could barely understand. Had talking to people always been this hard?
“A traveler? Where are you going next?” Tubbo stops in front of a small table selling sweets and looks around.
“Anywhere.”
“Anywhere?”
“Yeah, anywhere but here.”
Tubbo hums, or buzzes, and buys a bag of differently colored candies. “Do you have a ship? Or a crew?”
Tommy pauses, why would this creeper want to know? “I’m looking for one.”
Tubbo nods slowly, still unused to the affirmative action, “I could help?,” he turns to Tommy, “My crew has a ship.”
This had to be a trick? There was no way some random was going to just give out a free ride to whatever masked individual he talked to. Tommy licked his lips, unsure how to answer. If it was real, it would be amazing and he would be all that much closer to earth. If it was a trick, he might not be able to fight Tubbo’s crew.
Cogs and words grinded together in his head, does he take the chance? Does he leave now and save Tubbo the heartbreak of knowing his coolest friend is a criminal? Would he even be able to drive a ship if he stole one?
In the corner of his eyes,Tommy sees one of the fish people looking right at him. The freak is blue and standing next to a tall black and white alien, he distantly connects its features to the other group of scientist aliens. They open their mouth to speak to their friend and begin to walk directly towards him and Tubbo.
Tommy might not have been able to read lips or hear what Fishface said, but he knew when he was being chased. Asshole was approaching for a reason. Fuck, they had to go, like now .
He grabs hold of one of Tubbo’s hands and goes to pull him towards the alleyway, but his new companion doesn’t move. Tubbo’s looking at Fishface and Purple Freak and waving. Fuck, this was a trap! They probably all came from the ship he just escaped, he has to get off this planet.
Letting go of Tubbo’s hand, Tommy sneaks away.