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It took Tommy three days to get his hands on a translator, which in hindsight wasn't too bad. Sure, three days living in the vents, wondering if the odd crew of the ship he'd stowed away on would kill him as soon as they spotted him was a bit… stressful , but it wasn't anything compared to the year on the green smiley-bastard's craft. The vents were clean at least, and roomy enough for him to crawl through without having to lie on his stomach or wiggle around. The temperature changed a lot - near the medical lab it was cooler, but the training area and the Piglin's room were almost sweltering. Tommy preferred to sleep curled up near the Elytrian captain's room, where the temperature was near-perfect. He'd borrowed a blanket from the lounge area and would curl up near the vent, listening to the captain whistle to himself as the night cycle began.
At this moment, he was freezing his ass off in the vent above the workshop. The Phantom seemed to be the all-around science guy, working both the medical lab and the science-y lab. Swaddled in the dark-red blanket, Tommy peered through the vents, watching as the scientist ranted to his Piglin companion as he assembled three brand-new translators. The little gadgets were amazing - he'd never used one, but he'd read about them, before the whole alien abduction thing.
The translators were made up of two parts - a small, round, squishy bit that fit into the ear canal, and a twisty plastic hook that could be shaped to fit an outer ear shape for comfort (if the user had an outer ear). Amazingly, despite the vast difference in how species evolved on their planets, most seemed to adapt similar methods of capturing and interpreting sound waves: ear canals and, for most, some type of outer-ear shell that caught and amplified sound. Sure, there were some species with more… specialized types of speech and hearing, such as Mer (who picked up sound vibrations with the brilliant fins on the sides of their head), or the Apids who spoke using body language along with their buzzy speech. But overall, translators could be mass-produced for most of the galaxy with minor adjustments.
They were a huge hit on Earth, after contact had been established. Language barriers vanished almost overnight - the real-time translators between even the most difficult of languages blew Google's attempts out of the water, and they became commonplace. Even with the backlash of humans not being given free-reign to travel the stars (they were a 'violent' and 'young' species, and the Intergalactic Council put a very strict vetting system in place for any who wanted to join star crews or attend schools on planets outside their solar system), translators remained. English, Mandarin, Hindi, Spanish, and French became standard add-ons for all brands of translators, and all other human languages were easy to download and install.
So, if Tommy could get his hand on one of those translators, he could understand what the crew of the ship was saying, and figure out if they were safe to approach. If they were friendly, he could explain he was kidnapped, apologize for sneaking on the ship, and beg for help getting back to Earth. If they were less friendly, he could figure out when they would next be docking and work on an escape plan and find someone else on the new planet to help him get home. It was a flawless scheme, he just needed one chance to grab one of the translators.
His chance came after nearly an hour of waiting. Phantom finished whatever fiddling he was doing, chatting the Piglin's pink ears off the entire time. He set down the three translators, each of which had a blinking blue light, showing they were fully charged and updating. The scientist stood, brushing his hands off, and declared something to the Piglin. Said Piglin shrugged and motioned to the door, and the two left. Tommy waited, counting to one hundred before daring to move.
The vents in the ship were weird. They had magnetic latches and slid along rails instead of detaching completely. It made it easier to sneak in and out of the vents, but it also removed the scant feeling of safety he felt when near one. In this case, it worked in his favor. The vent eased open with the barest of sound, and as soon as he'd slid it out of the way, Tommy dropped into the workshop. The metal floor was freezing beneath his bare feet (he hadn't had shoes since Earth), but he ignored cold toes in favor of snatching up one of the translators from the workbench and fiddling with it. The blue light had stopped blinking, now glowing steady, showing the update was completed. He curved the foam-covered wire so it would hang over his ear and carefully slid the device into his right ear. There was a soft beep , then a cool, robotic female voice buzzed in his ear. He knew what it wanted, and said clearly, "English."
A crackle of static, then the voice returned. "Greetings, User. Thank you for choosing Nook Inc. Translators, here to cover all your language needs. Your device has been updated to the latest available software. If you encounter any issues in understanding between yourself and other users, please contact us at…" Tommy tuned out the number the robot rattled off, pulling a chair beneath the vent and climbing back up into the small space. He kicked the wheeled chair away as he pulled himself up and slid the vent closed behind him, removing any hint he had been there, besides the stolen translator. Now was the time for eavesdropping, and there was no more language barrier to stop him.
⭐🌙☀️🌙⭐
Bad news: the cargo ship was on a long-haul mission that had three more weeks of travel.
Good news: the crew of the ship were complete dorks.
He was still in the vents, despite two days of listening in on their conversations. The small crew were apparently a family. The Elytrian was captain and father to the other two, and his name was translated to Philza. The Piglin, Technoblade, handled security and logistics, while the Phantom named Wilbur was in charge of overseeing their health and assisting Phil with navigating and running the computer systems. The two called Philza their dad, and he called them his sons, and at one point he'd joked about their adoption. (Tommy would never admit it out loud, but he was jealous of the little family unit, his own memories of foster care creeping into his mind as he watched the three interact.)
Tonight was movie night. The ship was on a chartered course, meaning that aside from occasional checks on their path (which could be done from the tablets the three aliens carried with them), there was no need for anyone to be on the bridge. Instead they were gathered in the lounge, Philza and his large wings stretched out on the couch, waiting for his sons to quit bickering and pick a film to watch. Technoblade wanted some kind of war documentary, while Wilbur was arguing for some kind of artsy film about the futility of touching stars. After five minutes of them arguing in front of the screen, Phil threw his head back with a loud, long groan.
"Captain's choice!" He called, the lyrical chirps and whistles that made up his language smoothly shifting to English through Tommy's stolen translator. His sons grumbled but didn't protest too much, Wilbur handing over the holoscreen remote as the pair sat on either side of their father. He chuckled, wrapping a wing around each of his pouting sons before choosing a comedy about an Avian with a fear of heights who wanted to be a world-famous flier.
Wilbur groaned. "Really, Phil?" He slumped against his dad, making no move to get out of cuddling range. The captain grinned and wrapped an arm around his son's shoulder, tugging him close and running his talons through the phantom's wavy blue hair. (Tommy wasn't jealous. He wasn't.)
Techno crossed his arms and stretched his legs out in front of him. He didn't lean into Philza, but didn't make any move to shrug off the feathery wing around his shoulders. "You're just mad you lost that gadget."
Wilbur would have shot upright in indignation if Philza wasn't holding him close. "I didn't lose it! You saw - we left the room so they could update and when we came back, it was just gone ."
Technoblade muttered something the translator couldn't pick up under his breath, and Wilbur made an annoyed, hissing sound, half-lunging towards his brother. Philza pulled him back to his side, chirping sharply, which was translated as 'Cut it out' to Tommy. The movie began playing, and despite their pouting the boys settled, all three enamored by the film.
By the time the plot had been established (the plucky red-winged Avian had entered a flying competition, cheered on by his two best friends - a small Apid and a ridiculously tall Enderian), Tommy was hooked as well. In his cell on the other ship, he'd sometimes be shown alien media, but without a translator he hadn't understood most of it. Sure, there were probably cultural cues flying way over his head, but he could get more than the gist of the plot now, and understand the jokes. That proved to be his undoing.
The Apid was giving the Avian flying lessons, which were going poorly due to the species having vastly different wing types, when the Avian fell and started shouting something. It was obviously meant to be a panicked tirade, but something was seriously lost in translation. The voice in Tommy's ear (which tried to mirror the tone and gender of the speaker) began squeaking in the Avian actors voice, 'FUCK SHIT PISS DICK FUCK SHIT PISS DICK' ad nauseam. It startled Tommy, enough that he let out a loud cackle.
Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth as the three on the couch beneath the ventilation shaft froze. Before he could attempt to scramble back, Technoblade was on his feet on the couch, using the back to boost himself higher and wrenching the vent grate open so hard the magnetic locks broke off. The Piglin grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of the vent before Tommy had time to do so much as yelp.
Philza and Wilbur (who had both stood up at this point) backed away from the couch as Technoblade dangled him over the cushions, glaring into his soul with bright red eyes. The Phantom muttered something to his father, who stiffened in surprise and asked, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, that's a human."
Oh. Oh fuck . He wasn't even allowed to be in space. Sometime between being kidnapped over a year ago and now, Tommy had forgotten that he wasn't just another alien - he was an illegal alien. Nobody was supposed to interact with the ultra-violent dangerous humans unless they had permission and education on social norms and 'handling.' They were considered dangerous, an angry and violent species with nuclear capabilities and ridiculous adaptability that made the Intergalactic Council nervous.
Tommy was still dangling from Techno's fist. He pulled his legs and arms into himself, trying to look as small and non-nuclear-threat-ish as possible. Even if he wasn't posed heroically on the couch, the Piglin could still hold Tommy's 6'1" self over the floor - the brute had to be at least eight feet, and was as broad as a barn. The human tried not to think about what that strength might mean if put towards a stowaway - he didn't think the three would be overly-angry at him, but he could be wrong.
"He doesn't look capable of slaughtering us all in our sleep." Techno snorted.
Wilbur, who had taken refuge behind Philza's spread wings, peeked out and examined the human top to bottom. "You're right. He is pretty small."
"Fuck you, I am a big man!" Tommy snapped before his self preservation kicked in. The three paused, shocked at his declaration, before Wilbur was pushing his way forward, staring at the side of Tommy's head.
"The translator!" He pointed dramatically with a clawed finger, glaring at Techno. "I told you I didn't lose it!"
The Piglin rolled his eyes, and Tommy wondered how his arm wasn't getting tired after holding him up for so long. "You lose shit on a weekly basis, Wil. Sorry I didn't think a human snuck onboard and stole it from the center of your super-secure lab!"
"I do not lose shit, I just…forget where I put it for a day or two!"
Techno lowered Tommy down to the couch cushions, before dropping him, apparently seeing no threat from the human. "Wilbur, that is the definition of losing shit."
"I'm about to lose my shit-"
"Please, you're punier than the human."
There was a flash of blue and Techno was tackled over the back of the couch by the screeching Phantom, who apparently took his item-finding-abilities very seriously. Cautiously, Tommy peeked over the back of the couch to see the pair rolling around on the floor, rough housing.
"Sorry 'bout them, mate." The translator chirped in his ear, taking on a smooth adult male voice with, oddly enough, a British accent. Tommy turned his back on the scuffle, facing Captain Philza, who looked more amused than alarmed now. "Techno hasn't been sleeping, and it's got Wilbur's instincts all riled up."
Not sure what to say, Tommy shrugged a shoulder, as though having two alien brothers attempting to kill each other behind him was an everyday occurance.
"You're pretty far from home." Philza squinted slightly, peering down his beak with an odd expression, one Tommy couldn't read. "With all the laws in place, I'm betting you didn't ask to be taken off planet, huh?"
Tommy shook his head, pulling his legs underneath himself so he could sit more comfortably. "I was abducted," he admitted, and the captain nodded.
"How'd you end up here, then?" When Tommy hesitated, he held up his taloned hands in the universal gesture of peace. "I'm not angry, mate, just curious. None of us are upset you're on board." Neither looked at the arguing siblings wrestling on the floor behind the couch.
Rubbing at his arm (which was still bruised from the last time smiley-bastard had drawn blood), Tommy answered, "I escaped at the last port, and your ship was the closest one with the walkway down."
"I'm glad you got away." When Tommy looked up, the Elytrian was crouching in front of him, wings held in tight, a gentle smile curving his odd beak. "We can't take you straight back to the Sol system - we're on a time crunch with this delivery, and don't have the fuel to make it right now. But afterwards I'm sure my sons wouldn't mind a detour to Earth. And we're picking up some friends of ours at the stop, they're probably around your age. I'm sure they'd love to teach you all about spacefaring!" With very, very slow movements, Philza rested a hand on Tommy's knee with a grin. "Sound good, mate?"
For the first time in a year, Tommy was having a conversation. He was answering questions. He was talking to someone who saw him as more than a lab rat. So he nodded, a grin stretching his cheeks, and said, "Yeah, sounds good."
Phil grinned back, moving to sit on the couch beside Tommy, though he kept his wings tucked to his back. Without a word he resumed the movie, and soon they were debating whether the Avian would be able to win the competition, ignoring the shouts of the pair behind the couch. When Tommy talked louder than the others, nobody complained. When he laughed harder at the jokes, nobody complained. When he argued every little point with the captain, and called Wilbur a bitch, and asked about something that confused him, nobody complained.
When he fell asleep against Phil's side, missing the end of the movie, indulging in the first soft touch he'd felt in well over a year, nobody complained.