Chapter Text
If you had told Tommy five years ago that he was to be abducted by aliens, put through some rather horrible experiments, only to escape and now be surviving alone on a large market planet somewhere deep in space, he would have laughed and said you were mad.
Now, however, Tommy wishes someone had warned him so he would've known to at least pack an extra set of clothes that he could grow into, or a bottle of soap. Because apparently it was hard to find any sort of clothes that fit him nicely, and apparently aliens didn't have anything like soap that made him feel completely clean. Or smelled decent to him.
Tommy learned to just get over the fact he wouldn't ever really smell good and could deal with oversized clothes. At least a lot of the fabrics he was able to steal were soft.
Like his favorite one, a large piece of black fabric that he had snatched out of a bag of a traveling salesperson. It worked wonders as a shawl sort of thing, and covered a lot of his body. Which was great, because he had quickly realized that aliens were just as freaked out at seeing him as he was them.
Which is why he was a little bit annoyed already, because his shawl now smelled of sour dead fish.
This particular street market was busy to say the least. It was pretty much what Tommy would consider a street market weekend for this planet's standards, with aliens of all types out and about looking at the vendors that were available. Some of the shoppers were solo, others were clearly family, but together they all blended in to create a large crowd. Tommy was just a masked face among many.
The street went on for about three blocks, and some of the alley ways even contained a few more stands, though they were normally a bit more sketchy. Tommy was headed to one of said stands, a heavy lump of a bag on his back, carrying the delivery he was sent out to get. It smelled, and it was obvious that it did, with the way the crowd parted slightly at his arrival. That was nice at least, better they stay out of the way.
The job will get done faster, he tells himself, and then he'll be 15 credits closer to getting on a carrier ship. 15 credits closer to getting off this god forsaken planet. And then… well he hasn't gotten that far, but whatever it is, it'll be better than this.
While this planet had resources, they were hard to get. It wasn't really foraging, more like stealing , and risking his goddamn life for some food. The weather also wasn't great, it was pretty damn cold here, but always dry. No snow, rain, or even wind, just a constant dead cold. None of the other aliens seemed to mind it all that much, either bundled up, or covered in fur.
But maybe, he could find another planet that was a bit easier to live on. To hide on. This current one was too busy, too many eyes on him at once and it made him anxious. There had to be something better.
No more sleeping in that small abandoned storage room. No more scrapping for food, feeling guilty over using a credit or two when his stomach cramped in on itself it hopes of finding food. No more wearing the stupid oxygen contraption that rubbed the inside his nose raw, no matter how much he fiddled with it.
And no more being alone. He couldn't help but hope that maybe, maybe, there would be another human on another planet. Or someone who could speak English. Or maybe some English, not the alien language, which Tommy learned is called “Galactic.” He could understand it perfectly, thanks to the transmitter embedded in his skull behind his ear, but speaking was another thing. He gave himself a headache trying to listen to conversations in English thanks to the translator but also try to hear the noises of the unfiltered language underneath it at the same time.
The headaches got him this far, though.
He blinked his thoughts away as someone nearly tipped him over, their bodies hitting one another at the shoulders. Well- more like Tommy's shoulder and the guy's elbow . The guy was huge. Tommy still scowled up at him, though it was hidden beneath the fabric of his mask that covered his nose and mouth, and glared at him through his three-eyed goggles.
The large, pig-like alien looked down at Tommy over his shoulder, giving a small grunt.
"Watch it, man," Tommy growled, not even caring to speak in Galactic.
He continues on, fixing the large bag on his back, now only a few steps from the alley that held his destination. Turning into the alley, the shop owner looked up, his five eyes bore into Tommy, watching as he approached.
The owner was the kind of alien that Tommy liked to call "Dog Faces." They quite literally were like huge dogs that stood on their back legs, but if dogs were hairless and had five eyes.
"Here ," Tommy chirped in their global language, sliding the large bag down on the counter in front of him.
The owner grabbed the bag, peering inside. His nose twitched and he looked up at Tommy again before setting the back down and reached inside his pants pocket. Coins clattered onto the counter, and Tommy quickly grabbed them with his gloved hands.
As he scooped them up, he counted.
" Only ten." Tommy said in his broken language, then glared up at the owner. " Only ten. You say fifteen."
The owner shrugged, waving his hand. " Ten, take or leave it."
Tommy shook the credits in his hands. " You say fifteen!"
Dog-Face's lips curled up, showing sharp teeth, and growled. "Ten, or I take them back and kick you out of my shop."
Tommy bristled, fist closing around the credits, and opened his mouth to fight back. A shadow fell across the already dark alley, and Tommy and Dog-Face turned to see the approaching customer.
It was the pig alien from before, who Tommy has now deemed 'Pig-Face.' It was fitting. He stood at the mouth of the alleyway, observing the scene.
"There a problem here?" Pig-Face's deep voice rumbled into the alley.
"No sir," Dog-Face answered, smiling. He gestured to Tommy, "just a customer who doesn't like my prices."
Tommy glared even more, eyes darting back and forth between Dog and Pig. He didn't like that both of them were bigger than him, and that Dog seemed to be trying to get Pig on his side. He needed to leave.
Pocketing the credits, Tommy fixed the long shawl around his shoulders and turned to go. He gave Pig-Face one last stink eye for good measure then backed away from the counter. " Fine. I leave."
He walked out of the alley, eyeing Pig and scoffed, seeing Pig was also watching back. At least he could tell him off without consequences; oh the joys of being the only one to speak English. "What're you looking at, bitch."
He ducked around the corner, pulling his hood down further, and headed off in the direction of his hideout. He was tired, it was a long day of work, and after that last shit show he's decided the day was done.
The ten credits sat heavily in his pocket, softly clinking against the rest of the coins he'd earned today. He sighed, nose wrinkling against the sour smell that now stuck on him thanks to the cargo he delivered. Was it worth it? Ten credits is better than none, but Tommy has officially crossed that guy off his small list of people who will pay him to do small, under the table tasks. The list was dwindling.
The first one he'd ever worked for ended up literally throwing him out of his restaurant when he had caught Tommy taking food. Could you blame him? The guy wouldn't let Tommy eat anything despite running a restaurant. That Tommy worked for. But Tommy was smaller then, younger, and could hardly speak a lick of Galactic. So he immediately deemed the guy was a dick, and quickly crossed him off the list.
From there, Tommy had found three other vendors on the same street who all just needed an errand boy. Two of them he still worked for, getting about 10 credits a day from each of them, doing deliveries, or picking things up. One of them even, who he calls Puffy for her puffy white hair (it reminds him of a sheep back on earth), was kind to him. He didn't like to admit it, but she gave off motherly vibes. She feeds him occasionally or gives him other supplies. She even gave him a blanket one time when the weather got even colder.
Walking past one of the newer vendors he's been working for, he was disappointed to see they were closed for today. If they had been open, he'd see if they needed anything done before he clocked out for the day, but alas. He was tired anyways.
Luckily his hideout wasn't too far. Just a few blocks down, where the city got quieter and crime got higher. It was an eat or be eaten world, literally in some cases, so Tommy quickly assumed a "don't fuck with me" attitude. Eyes low but mean, walk quick like he had somewhere to be (or something to hide), and use his size to an advantage.
Despite being human, Tommy was tall. There were a handful of aliens taller than him, yes, but he was definitely up there in height when it came to the general alien population. However, he was scrawny from lack of food. He did have some sort of muscle density thanks to his work, but not enough to be intimidating. They didn't need to know that though.
Tommy had found a thin but oversized jacket, and wore his backpack beneath it. It gave his body some extra width. And with the added on shawl and hood he dawned, it gave him a pretty damn good silhouette. And wearing a fabric mask over half his face, and a pair of goggles made for three eyes, who knew what the hell kind of alien he was. With it being hard to pinpoint what species he was, a lot of people didn't want to find out.
All of this made it easy to blend into the crowd of aliens that already varied in species. There were hardly any aliens that were the same, in a market planet like this one, he still sees a new alien every day. Sleeping in a small room behind a random store on a random planet made him realize just how big the universe really was.
The room he now called home was found when he was stumbling through a dirty alleyway between two buildings. He had been running from what he assumed was the equivalent of the police of the planet, who had spotted him trying to get food from a trash can. There was a hole in the wall, just small enough that he could slip through.
Inside, it was now cleaner thanks to the few years he'd been staying there, with shelves that held various items. Most of them were dusty, clearly not touched in a long while. He had pushed the shelves along the walls and in front of the door inside, that he could only guess lead to the rest of the building. It was locked, but Tommy wouldn't take any chances.
Eventually, he got a decent bed (blankets and fabrics piled like a nest), a stash of non-perishable food, and a few other random items he liked. If he was going to be here for a while, he could decorate, thank you very much.
Tommy slipped through the hole, grimacing at the tight fit it had become, especially with everything he was wearing. He could chip away at the wall a little more, but he was afraid of making the entrance noticeable.
When he was fully in the room, he sighed, stretching his arms up. Joints cracked as he stretched, moving his neck around as he pulled the shawl off him. He wrinkled his nose, wondering how the hell he was going to wash it. He really didn't want to trash it, but the smell was bothersome. For now, he tossed it to the side and tugged off his goggles and mask.
It felt nice to breathe without the fabric over his face, annoying nose piece or not. And he just knew he had red compression lines around his eyes where the goggles lay. Next came the oversized jacket, letting the chill in the room prickle goosebumps up his arms. And finally, his bag, which he slid off his shoulders next to his bed. There were more credits in there that he dropped in during the day when he had a moment.
After digging out all the credits from the bag and his pockets, he counted. 60, minus two for a quick bite, so 58 was the total from today. Not too bad, but could have been better.
Each coin was then placed into a large glass-like jar he found. It used to hold a weird dried meat, but once he ate all of it, it was now the credit jar. He wiped off the number he wrote down yesterday, and replaced it with the 58 added to yesterday's total. He had almost 5,000 credits now.
Over the past year or so, however much it had been since he started his planning, he had bought a few things he would take along with him once he left. His bag for one, a nice, multi-pocket bag made of a leather like fabric. A few clothing items he found that fit him the nicest, both for warm and cold weather; he wasn't sure where a ship would take him.
Another, and most expensive item, was a new oxygen contraption that had cost about 1,500 credits. It was sad to see that much go, but the one he had before didn't work all too well- giving him frequent headaches and lightheadedness that often came with nausea.
Now all he was saving up for was the ticket. One little ticket to get him the hell off this planet. He was so close.
Something crashed in the alleyway outside his hole in the wall, making him jump away. Tommy held his breath, frozen, eyes wide and staring at the only entrance and exit to the tiny room he was in. Maybe it was an alien alley cat. Or someone who was just walking by, and bumped into the random shit that was stacked and thrown into the cluttered alley.
A moment passed. Another.
A pair of red eyes stared at him through the hole.
Tommy held still. Maybe they wouldn't see him if he didn't move. Like a dinosaur.
The red eyes blinked. "Hello."
Tommy jumped again at the gruff voice, seemingly coming from the hole, but-
But it was English.
The accent was rough, but it was definitely English.
Tommy continued to stare, now out of shock.
"Hello?" The voice said again, this time a little more hesitant.
Tommy sucked in a breath, taking a small step back. What the hell was this? Has he finally lost it?
"You… You human. Yes?" The voice spoke quietly, as if not to spook him. Well too damn late.
Tommy was now beyond confused. Perhaps he had become so lonely in this foreign world in space that he has begun hallucinating that a pair of red eyes can communicate with him through English, and knows he's human.
Well if he's gone crazy, why not dive in head first.
"Y-Yes…" Tommy replied quietly.
The red eyes hummed, then shuffled. A large pink snout snuffled through the entrance, followed by a large head, the red eyes now having a face.
It was fucking Pig-Face.
"Hello," he said again, red beady eyes looking at Tommy still. It was odd seeing English being formed with his mouth; Tommy was so used to seeing aliens only speak Galactic, or some other language he couldn't even come close to understanding.
Tommy swallowed, taking another step back. "Uh- Hey."
Pig-Face looked around for a moment, snout wiggling and nostrils flaring, huffing like he was smelling Tommy's room. His snout wrinkled like he caught whiff of something bad- probably Tommy's shawl- and he looked back at Tommy.
"You follow? Come with me." He reached a hand inside the room, a large four fingered hand, bigger than Tommy's fucking head, and gestured for Tommy to come with. "Come with me."
"W-What?" Tommy shook his head, backing up all the way till he was against the opposite wall. "No."
Pig-Face sighed like Tommy was being difficult. He wasn't just going to go with a random alien! What if Pig-Face had learned English to lure humans like Tommy out of safety to- to eat them or something? Well jokes on him, not every human speaks English, idiot.
Tommy does though.
His stomach twisted up with anxiety.
"Come with me," Pig-Face said again, shuffling a little. He was huge, it must've been uncomfortable to be trying to shove his mountain of a body into the tiny hole in the wall.
"...Why," Tommy didn't ask, more like demanded.
Pig-Face was quiet for a moment, thinking, before he nodded. "Safe. Come with me. I know human."
Tommy's eyes widened. "You… You know another human? How- How many? Where are they?"
Pig-Face blinked then shook his head. "One. One human. You see. Come with me."
And with that, Pig-Face backed out of the hole, disappearing into the shadows of the alley.
Tommy stood there against the wall, a million thoughts racing through his head. Another human? And Pig-Face knew them? Were they Tommy's age? Older? Younger even? Were they the reason why Pig-Face even knew English? Did they know Tommy was here? If so, how come they didn't send the human to get him?
Is this safe?
Tommy desperately wanted to see another human. Desperately wanted to have a real conversation.
But what if Pig-Face did have another human, but he was keeping them prisoner for… for something. Tommy would not go back to being a lab rat.
Tommy stared at the room that had been his home for what he could only guess was a few years now.
He’d been so alone, when the aliens had him as a prisoner. It was just him, and a few other random aliens, but no other humans. And god, was he alone now.
The last time he had ever seen anyone else like him was on Earth, the night before he was abducted.
Maybe if Pig-Face did have the other human imprisoned, Tommy and them could figure a way to escape and get away from all of this. Maybe he could have a friend.
The thought of seeing and talking to another human made up Tommy's mind. He suddenly broke out of his stupor, rushing around the room to grab his things. Shoving as many clothes and blankets into his bag as possible. When it was nearly full, he tightly closed the jar of credits and placed it carefully on top of everything in his bag.
He eyed the shawl in the corner, still smelling of rotting fish, and decided against it. He could get another one. Instead, he just grabbed his jacket and backpack, once again slinging them around himself.
He slipped the mask back over his face and crept towards the hole in the wall. Peering out, a few feet away, he saw Pig-Face standing there. His ear flicked and he looked down at Tommy and huffed softly.
"You come with me?"
It was an olive branch, one that hadn't been extended towards Tommy in years. And in English, his own language, that he also hadn't heard in years.
Tommy looked back into the room that had been his home for years now. He was going to leave it eventually. This is just sooner than he thought.
He climbed out of the hole and pulled his goggles back over his eyes, then his hood. He looked up at Pig-Face. "Yes."
Pig-Face might have smiled. Maybe. Tommy couldn't tell if it was a really small smile or if he just still smelled like rotting fish. Probably the latter.
"Follow," Pig-Face said simply, then walked out of the alleyway.
Tommy followed.