Archive of Our Own

On missions such as these, Phil often despised the fact that his species had a more developed olfactory system than most others in the known universe.

The marketplace was an assault on his sense of smell, mingling an unpleasant odor of body fluids and excrement with the aroma of food sold at the various stands. It was also loud and hectic, but those were things Phil could easily cope with. He could do without the fucking stink. To make it a tad better on himself, he pulled his hood up over his antennae. That would block out some of the chemical markers, at least.

"Damn, this place is huge," Tommy said behind him. There was a mixture of awe and disgust in his tone that Phil could relate to.

When he'd first started on the job, Phil had been blown away too upon learning how large these creature trafficking rings could get. When there were countless galaxies with up to a dozen planets each to scour for wares, maybe that shouldn't be very surprising. If it was alive, it could be bought here - and sometimes if it was dead too. The fur trade was booming lately and hunting trophies always sold for a high price.

There was no obvious order to how the market was arranged either. To his right, Phil could see a tarp laid out with various small, scaled aliens kept on leashes sitting on top of it. The way they snapped and hissed at any passerby told Phil they were being sold as guard pets. On his other side, somebody had put up a series of aquariums with an array of colorful aquatic species to be used for cooking. The person selling them had everything needed so they could cut them up into bite-sized pieces right there.

"It's pretty big, yeah. So keep an eye out for trouble and follow protocol exactly," Phil said. "We don't need any issues on this job, Tommy."

"You don't have to tell me, dadza." Tommy laughed at his own joke, tail wagging a few times in amusement. Phil shook his head, though it wasn't actually bothering him.

He just didn't want things to go sideways.

Reconnaissance missions into these types of illegal markets were usually pretty standard. Go in, scout for any intelligent lifeforms, make a report so headquarters could send in the interstellar protection forces, and get the fuck out without blowing his cover. Phil had run them a million times before. This shouldn't be anything he couldn't handle.

This was the first time Tommy joined him though. Phil was grateful for the four extra hands and another pair of eyes watching his back. But Tommy was a rookie on their team and had never dealt with something this serious. Not that they had much of a choice, Phil could not survey a place this big by himself. Since Wilbur couldn't leave the ship safely on this planet, this was the best compromise.

He started to walk, gesturing for Tommy to stick close. The last thing they wanted was to lose each other in the crowds.

"So uh, what is protocol again?" Tommy asked hesitantly. Phil barely managed to suppress a cackle, mandibles itching to click together.

"You're not inspiring much confidence right now," he joked. Tommy pressed a little closer, almost bumping into Phil's elbow.

"Yeah, so? I haven't read all the pamphlets yet, there's like a million of them."

"And it's our job to know what they say," Phil said. Tommy puffed up the pouches in his cheeks at him. Phil knew enough about Tommy's species already to tell it was meant to convey a dismissive attitude. "Protocol is to go in and check for any lifeforms that score a 6 or higher on the council's intelligence scale. Use your best judgment and common sense. I know you don't have a lot of that."

"Fuck you," Tommy responded. "So what do we do if we see any?"

Phil shifted the elytra that covered his wings. It sucked to have to keep them tucked close in small spaces like these. "Just report it, not much else we can do. Headquarters will send a proper unit to crack down but they need to know what they're dealing with first."

He tapped the infopad on his wrist, subtly starting the record function. This way, any important evidence could be quickly gathered and sent off to those who would compile it. All Phil and Tommy had to do was amble around and pretend to be interested shoppers.

The ruse did not need a lot of work with how Tommy was gawking at every stall they passed. Phil had seen too many similar scenes before to have the same reaction, noting that it looked like this market specialized in pet sales. The lifeforms on display were fairly well cared for, and many of them barely reached a 4 on the intelligence scale. They were sentient, yes, but not considered capable enough of conscious thought or cognitive functions to be awarded personhood. That didn't make this market any less illegal, but animal trafficking was usually regarded as the lesser evil compared to doing the same with an intelligent lifeform.

After all the horrors Phil had witnessed, he wasn't so sure if he agreed. But nobody asked his opinion on the matter.

"Oh damn, they have araneae!" Tommy pointed at the stall they were passing. Phil watched the fluffy ball-shaped creature roll over and stare at them with big, adorable eyes. Its eight, thin legs extended from its body suddenly, lifting itself up into the air. "I've always wanted one of those. They're so fucking cute."

"Illegal breeders," Phil said. He looked at the nearest araneae, its shocking purple color could only be the result of genetic engineering. "But I'd die before I let you bring one of those on the ship. They shed like crazy."

"Killjoy," Tommy muttered.

Then Phil's attention was drawn to a vendor who had set up shop a small distance away from all the rest. As if consciously leaving the open space to lure people towards it, intriguing with its mystery. It might be nothing, a cheap ploy to invite naive buyers. Or it could mean everything. Phil clicked his mandibles once, urging Tommy to pay attention.

This could easily be where things went south.

Phil casually strolled over, exuding an air of disinterest as he briefly glanced at the table this person had put front and center. They sold hunting trophies from the looks of it. Dangerous species only. Phil saw a chain of fangs from a nezot and the poison sack of a xagmir. Undoubtedly they were worth a lot of money.

Towards the back, they had a cage.

And what Phil saw inside was so much worse than he could have possibly imagined.

The last time a human was seen outside of the Virgo supercluster, Phil hadn't even hatched yet. That didn't mean it wasn't a species he recognized on sight. After the most disastrous first contact in remembered history, the galaxy where Earth was situated had been cordoned off with a highly secure perimeter only scientists, diplomats, and the occasional political party were allowed to pass. For all intents and purposes, there should never be a human outside of that border.

There shouldn't be, but Phil was looking at one.

It was curled up in the back end of the cage, as far away from prying eyes as it could get. Though there was no shelter for it to properly hide. The gaps between the bars of the cage allowed Phil a perfect sight of its shape, smaller than he'd have anticipated going by the stories. It had a long drape of knotted hair that extended past its shoulders. The ends were off-colored compared to the rest of it, with a soft pink sheen covering the otherwise brown strands. Its body was thin and gangly, though it kept its limbs folded in on itself awkwardly. Despite what Phil could only judge to be an uncomfortable position - even with the little he knew about a human's bone structure and muscles - it wasn't moving an inch. Its eyes were open so Phil assumed it wasn't asleep. However, its stillness was concerning, with the shallow expanding of its ribcage the only indication it was drawing oxygen and thus was alive.

For additional safety, it had been muzzled.

"Is that-"

Phil grabbed Tommy by the wrist to stop him. This was a critical discovery, how they reacted to it would make all the difference.

"Are you interested in buying?" the lifeform who ran the stand asked. They were assessing them with a skeptical gaze. Phil could not tell their specific species from a glance. They were bipedal and fucking huge, towering over both of them easily. They had a friend with them too, lounging back in a chair while sharpening a knife.

This was what years of training had prepared Phil for.

"Might be," he said, letting go of Tommy's wrist. He thanked the stars that Tommy fell quiet beside him and waited. One wrong word might mess up their chance to see this human up close. "Depends on the condition. You don't see humans this far out, how did you get your hands on it?"

The seller's maw split open into a toothy grin. "I'm not in the habit of revealing my sources."

Obviously. Phil inclined his head pleasantly, to show his patience. He had to make sure this guy didn't think he was a cop or anything. "Fair enough, but I don't like buying things without knowing the history. Wouldn't want it to come biting me in the ass later."

There was a short moment of observance, the tension between them heavy enough that Phil could feel it bearing down on his exoskeleton. If the seller did not find him trustworthy enough, there was little hope for this mission turning out well.

Then they barked an off-putting laugh.

"Got it from a fighting arena up in the Yanada cluster. I don't know where they got it and I didn't ask."

"Of course," Phil said. He doubted the credibility of that second statement, but he'd let it slide.

"It's damaged goods, so they gave it to me at a fair price. And it was a mercy that I took it in. They would have killed it otherwise, surely."

"Surely."

The way this bastard wanted to pretend they had taken the human out of a motivation more noble than selfish gain was laughable. Phil waited for them to continue.

"I figured it could still be of interest to somebody. It's defective, but not beyond use. It might make a good pet if trained accordingly. It has shown it reacts well to discipline."

With a short gesture, Phil asked, "Can I inspect it? I might have a client that would buy something this exotic."

"By all means." They motioned for him to step forward. Phil exchanged a glance with Tommy, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Phil was glad the other had caught on to how important this exchange was and had decided to keep himself out of it. Even if the seller's next words made him bristle.

"Obedient pet you've got there. You trained it well."

"Thanks," Phil managed. He was kinda scared Tommy was about to assault them for that - and honestly, Phil didn't think he'd be able to fault Tommy for it either, although it would ruin the mission completely - but Tommy didn't say anything. The hairs on the end of his tail raised in anger, yet he stayed quiet.

Phil reminded himself to write one hell of a positive mission report for Tommy later.

Cautiously Phil approached the cage. He could tell the seller was watching him closely, judging his body language and reactions. The other one was also squinting at him, drawing the piece of whetstone they were holding over their knife's blade. A primitive weapon used by experienced hunters. Either they were trying to intimidate or they really were experts at handling dangerous species.

Well, Phil supposed they were stupid enough to buy a human. Nobody sane would do that.

He knelt down when he got close enough, trying not to shake or unfurl his wings. Phil was not one to get nervous quickly, but something like this had even him on edge. The human was staring at a specific point on the metal flooring of its cage with a faraway expression. Its eyes were light blue.

Phil was not surprised - if slightly horrified - to note the terrible condition it was in. Pale flesh was covered in bruises and scars that even without having any medical expertise, Phil could clearly tell as the result of numerous types of wounds and physical trauma sustained over a significant time period. It was thin in a way that did not seem natural for its body structure, betraying starvation as an additional issue. The way it held one of its legs seemed to indicate a permanent impairment from a previous injury not allowed to heal properly. It was filthy and covered in dirt, not having had a chance to groom itself in ages.

Forever ago, when Phil started this job, he had felt a lot more anger at the mistreatment of intelligent lifeforms that was so common for these sorts of markets. He had put it aside, mostly. Focusing his attention on how he could help and prevent more suffering was better than stewing in how fucked up it all was and the righteous fury he felt at that.

Watching as the human didn't react to anything while Phil made a soft clicking noise meant to be comforting, ignited a whole new sort of rage in his heart.

"I'm interested," Phil said. He reached for the pack on his belt. "How much are you selling it for?"

He didn't care how much it was. The company would repay him for whatever he spent, if it was in the name of saving a lifeform Phil had judged was in acute danger if left in the trafficker's hands for a minute longer.

The seller made eye contact with their friend. Then they pressed a button on their own infopad. Phil almost hissed at the static that burst to live in his head. He saw Tommy flinch too, more caught off guard than Phil was by the communicator scrambling tactic.

It was a dirty little trick that temporarily messed with the translating function of any neural implant in the vicinity. The two traffickers exchanged some words in their native tongue, a rumbling growling, while Phil's implant only spat out static. When they were done talking, the button was released so Phil could understand them again.

"We're not selling at a flat rate," they said. "Auction only. Come to this place tomorrow, but tell your client it's not going to be cheap."

Phil took the card that was extended to him. It was the address of a ship port on the planet, not far off from the market. "I'll be there."

After giving the human one last glance, he started to walk away.

"We're buying it, right?" Tommy asked when they were far enough not to be overheard. "Like, no fucking way we're going to let somebody else nab it."

"We're buying it," Phil said.

He would not accept any other outcome to the situation.

Techno woke up to his handler dragging him from his cage.

The alien's claws dug into his flesh, uncaring of how much it hurt. A lot of Techno's nerve endings had been damaged but somehow this guy had the impressive talent of always finding some place to grab him where it still could inflict pain. Techno didn't make a sound either, too numb for it.

He was too tired for much of a reaction anymore.

Part of his brain knew that was a terrible sign for his overall well-being. The same part that was sent into overdrive at him being taken out of the cage at all. He hadn't been allowed out of the cage once since they put him in there. So whatever reason they had for dragging him out couldn't be good.

Yesterday, he'd been on a market. Culture shock aside, he recognized the layout of that place, the way several aliens had set up stands and talked to others passing by in their strange, guttural tongues or other vocalizations. Techno supposed they understood each other, though they all spoke different languages. None of it was English, anyway. He saw something pass hands - money or perhaps a sort of bartering - exchanged for what the sellers were offering.

Techno had no idea if he'd been for sale.

He wrongly assumed not because, well, he hadn't been bought by anybody. Though perhaps the only reason for that was that he wasn't in high demand. Lots of aliens stopped at the stall and talked to the owner. After what felt like an hour or two, Techno had started to nod off into that desensitized state he'd become so accustomed to. When he didn't feel anything and thinking wasn't so dang hard.

It had served him well during his time in the arena.

But apparently, he had been wrong. He was very much on sale if his current situation was anything to go by.

Techno was pushed up onto a stage, stumbling over his treacherous feet. He hadn't walked in a while, so his balance would have been way off even without the injured knee. It had been shattered in the arena during his last official fight. After everything else he had endured, he supposed that was the straw that broke the camel's back. All other injuries he could come back from. This made it so he'd never properly walk again. Not the way he used to, at least. Running or fighting… no way in hell that was going to be in the cards.

Combined with his overall appearance failing to instill much fear for humans in his foes anymore because he'd been mistreated for so long, Techno wasn't surprised he was discarded. Only slightly horrified at not knowing what would happen next.

He had tried to tell himself it couldn't be much worse than his current handlers or the arena. All the curious eyes on him while he was forced onto the stage made him unsure if that was true.

The room was small and stuffy, making it hard to breathe. They had chained Techno's wrists together with some glistening metal unknown to him. His handler looped it into a hook set onto the stage, as if he'd try to get away. The only door out was on the other side of the room. Techno would never make it.

They might kill him though. A human on the loose could easily be seen as a threat. If the crowd panicked, somebody might kill him before his handlers could intervene. So Techno kept that idea on the back burner in case things turned south or he really didn't like the look of whoever bought him.

Overwhelmed by all the noise, Techno stood there. With every blink, he could feel himself slipping away again. He knew he should be paying attention, but it was so hard. He didn't want to be there. He wanted to be back in his cage.

He wanted to go home.

There was an off-putting cackle, higher pitched than all the other sounds. Even without speaking the language, Techno snapped to attention. There was a wave of unrest through the crowd, aliens reacting with disbelief and annoyance. Another chirped back, causing the agitation to grow tenfold. The two went up against each other, sharply crying out one after the other.

A bidding war?

Techno squinted into the crowd, but it was hard to see without his glasses. He was lucky that his vision was only lightly impaired, he was nearsighted but not badly enough that it would have gotten him killed in the arena. Just so that anything too far away got slightly blurry and gave him a headache if he tried to make out the details. One of the aliens bidding on him was sitting closer to the stage and Techno could make out striped fur stretched over bulking muscles. Two big horns grew on either side of its head. Techno swallowed uneasily, recognizing this species from the arena.

They weren't exactly the nicest folks around.

The other alien with the weird chirping was too far away for Techno to tell what it was. He took a step back, but the chain around his wrists pulled taut.

After what felt like an eternity of the two making horrible noises back and forth at each other, the chirping one screeched something that made the crowd vocalize in disdain, or maybe they were impressed. Distantly and without much humor Techno wondered if he should be honored. Was he being sold for that much? There hung a tense silence over the room as the nearer alien grunted and crossed its arms, sitting back in its chair. It had given up the exchange.

So a few seconds later, his handler pulled Techno off the stage again.

He was thrown into his cage once more, the wheels beneath it creaking with the effort of him being rolled back to the same place he came from. Shoved in a dark room at the back of the auction house, Techno had enough time to start wondering if the old proverb about the frying pan and the fire was going to become a horrible reality.

The longer he thought on it, the easier it became to imagine plenty of things that actually were worse than the arena.

Techno flinched when the door to the storage room eventually opened. It was like these aliens didn't even care that his sensitive eyes couldn't instantly adjust to changes in brightness. His handler stayed in the doorway while the other creature stepped forward. The one who had bought Techno.

The one that looked like he'd walked straight out of a human's worst nightmare.

Techno had seen a lot of different species since being yoinked from Earth and had no names for them, but tended to liken them to whatever terms he did have in his vocabulary and came closest to describing what he was looking at. If he were to assign something to this one, insectoid would be the main contender. It had a strange, bipedal appearance but was covered completely in hard shell-like skin. Parts of it shifted and twitched, reminding Techno of a beetle. Its jaw was made of mandibles that clicked together softly as it kneeled down in front of the cage. The antenna on its head made it seem unnervingly tall, though Techno actually judged it to be slightly shorter than he was. It was wearing some garments, mostly protective wrappings around its more sensitive joints and a hood that covered its head. But the eyes it used to stare at him through the bars were faceted.

The handler said something from the doorway. Techno didn't dare move until the insectoid alien pulled its gaze away and stood up. They exchanged some more 'words' (more like vocalizations) and then the insectoid started moving his cage again. The jostling motions were bad for his nerves and they made him nauseous, so Techno pulled his knees up to his chest and closed his eyes.

Okay, escape plan time. Transit was usually when Techno had the most chance to slip away. If they opened his cage, he could try to make a run for it. What he'd do after that… How the heck was he supposed to know? He didn't even know what planet he was on. The likelihood of him being able to hitch a ride back to earth was pretty slim. Still, it beat giving up completely and waiting for whatever new horrors would befall him with Mister Fly over there.

He was brought all the way to the docking station. Techno had seen it before, though that didn't make it less mind-boggling to see the dozens of literal spaceships hanging suspended in low gravity, attached to the port by large cables that presumably filled them up with water and fuel. At the ramp leading up to a small craft with a sleek appearance, the handler stopped. Techno tensed his legs, knowing this would be his only opportunity. Once he was brought onto the ship, escape would be impossible.

Except then what Techno could only describe as an argument broke out between his two escorts. His handler made a barking sound, something Techno had come to relate to amusement, though he refused to call it a laugh. The insectoid alien chittered back, the deep buzz that came out of its throat reminding Techno of an angry wasp. The handler insisted on whatever point it was making.

Eventually, the creature that had purchased Techno at the auction shifted, briskly reaching to its belt to get more money. Techno could see the elytra on its back lift up to reveal the translucent membrane wings hidden beneath. It really was just a weird nightmare beetle, huh?

The handler took the extra currency offered with another bark, stowed it in its satchel, and then hit the top of the cage twice. Techno blinked numbly at its retreating back as it walked away. The insectoid alien clicked its mandibles again. It started to roll Techno onto the ramp, cage and all.

Did that bastard just pay to buy his cage too?

The hydraulic door on the side of the ship opened with a hiss. Techno turned around, watching it close behind them helplessly. Oh, this was bad. This was really, really bad.

He wasn't getting away when they were in orbit.

The insectoid creature wheeled him into a new room on the ship. If Techno thought the brightness outside was annoying, this room might have a personal vendetta against his retinas. Several harsh fluorescent lights were fitted into the ceiling and all the furniture was made of polished metal. The air smelled weirdly of oxygen scrubbers and disinfectant, which told Techno two things.

First, they had at least one other creature on board that needed air to live the same way Techno did. They recycled the oxygen within the ship. So he wouldn't die instantly on takeoff.

The second - much more worrying - thing he realized was that the room must be a lab or infirmary of some kind.

Techno desperately hoped this meant they wanted to assess the physical condition of what they purchased and nothing more. He doubted it though.

His cage was pushed against a wall and the insectoid talked to another creature in the room. Techno crawled forward slightly, expecting to see a second alien of the same species. What faced him instead was somehow both better and worse than the first one.

Better in the sense that this alien had a more humanoid appearance to it. Aside from the slightly elongated look of its torso, it could be mistaken for an overly lanky person at a glance. It even had hair, a feature Techno hadn't seen many aliens share with humans. This guy's was curled and slightly unruly. Its skin was extremely pale, to the point of being colorless. Its face had a sunken appearance.

That was also where the more horror-esque aspects became impossible to ignore. Between the alien's fingers ran a lightly transparent blue tissue. The same blue was represented in splotches all over its skin, especially around a set of slits in its throat. Gills? But Techno didn't think it was aquatic. Where its eyes should be, was nothing. Just tissue that stretched over an absence of sockets in the skull beneath. More horrific was the fact that in several places, their skin wasn't just colorless. It was literally see-through.

When it kneeled next to the cage, Techno could see its nervous system. A branching collection of arteries pumping blue liquid and white nerve tissue that connected all the pieces together. It was wearing clothes, but Techno swore he could see organs peeking out from within its ribcage.

Oh, that was unnerving.

It made a light humming sound. The insectoid alien answered with its typical clicking noise. Techno didn't know how it was looking at him - studying him - without eyes. Somehow, that's what it felt like though. Like he was being picked apart.

Then it started to undo the latch on the cage.

Techno pushed back, shaking his head. He wanted to yell in warning, to hopefully intimidate them somehow. He didn't want them to touch him. But the damn muzzle kept his jaw locked tight. He was so dizzy with panic that his head spun with it.

Luckily, the insectoid took the ghostly one's shoulder and stopped it from opening the cage.

Relief was Techno's instant and rather embarrassing reaction. His being left locked up was obviously only a temporary thing and he'd have to face whatever these two wanted to do to him eventually. But it had been a harrowing day and Techno really wanted to take a long, deep nap before his new life as a medical test subject or whatever the plan was began.

The more human-like alien hummed again, a little more forcefully, and pointed at a notebook on the table. It picked the notebook up and consulted the computer on its wristband. Then it wrote something down and turned it around for Techno to see.

It was two words, one scribbled beneath the other. Techno was very confused to find he could read them. The legibility of the writing might be terrible, they were definitely Roman letters.

Wilbur, the top one said. The alien pointed at it, then at itself.

Wilbur? Was it a name?

A crude translation of its native tongue, perhaps? Techno didn't really know what to think. At his perplexed expression, the alien tapped the other word.

Phil.

It nodded towards the insectoid.

Wilbur and Phil.

Bruh, why did the aliens who kidnapped him have such dorky names? How was Techno supposed to take the torture seriously now!

The alien who had written hummed happily, maybe impressed that he had been able to grasp something so basic. It slid the notebook over the floor towards the edge of Techno's cage, then the pen too. It was expecting him to write something as well.

It was expecting him to share his name.

Carefully watching for sudden movements, Techno reached through the bars to pick up the notebook. His hand was trembling and he somehow had forgotten how to properly hold a pen, but with some effort, he managed to write down his name. He nudged the book back towards the pair.

The ghostly one - Wilbur - picked it up. It used its computer again to translate Techno's messy English writing into something it could understand. Then it hummed inquisitively. It didn't sound anything like it should, but the word definitely had two syllables and a notable upturn at the end. It almost sounded like his name. Phil also chirped a similar noise. Both aliens repeated it a handful of times.

They knew his name. In the however many years it had been since he was taken, had anybody ever spoken Techno's name?

A shrill alarm disturbed the relative peace of the infirmary and Phil turned quickly to leave the room. Wilbur looked at him, making a few more humming sounds Techno could never hope to understand before it followed the other.

And just like that, Techno was alone again.

"So you're telling me that because it's a human, it's a protected species. And because it's a protected species, we can't give it back to the other humans?"

Phil rubbed his claws together, trying not to let his irritation get the better of him.

"It's… complicated," Eret said slowly. If Phil had to hear them say that one more time, he might just reach through the terminal and choke whoever was in charge of making up these roundabout conservation laws himself.

He knew that wasn't fair - least of all on Eret, who was not the one making the laws but only the one compiling them and handing out information when asked. Still, it was a little frustrating for Phil to have potentially illegal contraband on his ship and nowhere to go with it. He didn't regret his decision to buy the human, he never would. After what he had witnessed in the auction house, he was more certain than ever that he had saved it from a dire fate.

It was just that he had hoped delivering it back to earth would be an option. Having such a dangerous life form on his ship - around his crew. Phil was the captain, he had to be responsible for their safety too.

"Because of the strict regulations on human presence outside of the Orion Arm, any human not within the cordoned area automatically becomes an endangered species," Eret said. "And because relations with humanity are barely in phase one of being acclimated for intergalactic union, we cannot let an endangered species anywhere near them. It would be irresponsible."

"Even if said endangered species is itself a human?" Phil pressed.

"Himself," Wilbur corrected.

Phil turned his swivel chair towards him. "What?"

"He's a male, from what I can tell. So unless he tells us otherwise, not an 'it'." He smiled a bit, nodding at Eret on the screen. "His name is Techno."

"All attempted contact with humanity is enacted and controlled by the highest council. Getting anywhere near earth would be a nightmare of red tape," Eret continued, either ignoring Wilbur's antics or not caring for the human's pronouns. Probably the second one, considering Eret themself was from a genderless species. "You'll never get clearance to bring it there. Not to mention what possible reactions the humans would have to knowing one of theirs was taken. They might retaliate against us, or expect punishment of the guilty parties, the diplomatic repercussions could unleash a war. It's just not feasible."

"That's great and all, but what do we do with him then?" Phil asked.

"For now, bringing the human back to headquarters will suffice. We can figure the rest out from there." Eret rubbed an appendage over their mouth, conveying their sympathy. "If it helps, from what little information we have about humans, bringing it back would not be a good thing for it anyway. Humans don't appreciate what they deem as 'other'. Not even their own kind. We cannot say what it would be subjected to back on earth."

"That does help," Phil answered. Even if only a little bit.

"In the meantime, we will be sending you all publicly available information on human biology and basic care." Eret reached forward, three-fingered hand hovering over a button beneath the display. "Special exceptions have been made for you guys to ensure legal transit. Congratulations Phil, your ship is now the only place outside of the Orion Arm where humans are allowed."

The screen went dark. Phil shook his head and stood up, watching his wrist terminal light up with Eret's documentation. He could skim that while walking, they should probably start by doing a full health check first. The seller had said the human was 'damaged goods' but Phil would rather see for himself what they were dealing with.

"Quite exciting, isn't it?" Wilbur asked as he followed Phil out onto the bridge.

"Exciting isn't exactly the word I would use for it, mate."

Wilbur giggled, his vocal slits thrumming. "What word would you use?"

"Stressful."

Before he went to the medical bay, he stopped by Tommy's little engineering nook. The ship was in flying order, so they could take off ahead of the local moon sliding in the way of their flight path. Phil knew Tommy well enough to guess he was tinkering on something else though. Something more useful to their current situation.

"What have you got?" Phil could only squeeze part of his upper chest into the hatch. His body was not as small or malleable as Tommy's by a long shot. Wilbur couldn't get anywhere near Tommy's quarters for fear that a sharp tool left lying around would puncture his membranes. How Tommy could survive a death trap like this was beyond him.

"The human isn't going to let us drill into his skull, is he?" Tommy asked. He only looked mildly annoyed by this.

"Probably not." Phil watched Tommy put two chips against each other. One of them started smoking.

"Tubbo uploaded his prototype software thing into this," Tommy said and held up a retro translator with one of his free hands. The kind that was fitted into the cochlea (or the closest thing to it a species had) instead of implanted straight into the brain like modern translators were. "It's not going to work the same but he'll understand some of what the fuck we're saying."

"It's a start," Phil said. They'd already uploaded the software into their own neural implants. Tubbo had to write the code from scratch because human speech wasn't exactly properly researched.

"If he doesn't speak one of the five most common human languages, we'll be screwed," Tommy warned. "Because those were the only ones Tubbo could get his hands on."

"We'll make it work," Phil said. "Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah." Tommy waved him off. While he was a good actor, Phil got the sense Tommy was trying to hide how upset he was that Wilbur basically banned him from the med bay for the time being. What Tommy didn't know was that the order had actually come directly from Phil himself. He wouldn't let either of the other two in there without his supervision.

Humans were unpredictable enough without feeling cornered, let alone locked in a cage. Phil simply could not predict what would happen and that made the situation too dangerous to not treat with utmost caution.

Wilbur was waiting for him outside the door of the med bay, tapping away at his infopad.

"Have you figured anything out about the food situation?" Phil asked.

"What I've figured out is that his dietary needs are extremely complex and we won't be able to feed him with what we currently have on the ship," Wilbur said. "I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear."

"It isn't." Phil spread his wings before retracting them again, shaking the bad news off. "Any solutions?"

"The good news is that the diet he does require can probably be emulated pretty easily with the right foods. We'd have to be mindful of adverse reactions, but he should be able to digest a lot of things that we can easily pick up from other planets. It won't be what he'd eat back on earth but it'll be enough. I'm assuming the arena did it that way too."

"The arena didn't look like it did him any favors," Phil commented.

It was hard for him to shake the memory of the human's form as he first saw it, small and trembling. After seeing the pictures Eret had sent them of what an adult human was supposed to look like, Phil had an even more accurate idea of how badly Techno had been treated. And he didn't like it one bit.

"Like I said, his nutritional needs are hard to balance. And I do have a fix for that, but…" Wilbur hesitated, the bioluminescence of his veins lighting up and briefly casting a soft glow over the inner ship walls. "You're not going to like it either."

Phil tilted his head to show he was listening. "What is it?"

"He's been severely underfed and it might be a couple of cycles before we can get the food. But I do have all the needed compounds in liquidized form."

Wilbur's expression told Phil he expected a negative reaction to that. And Phil got why. Shoving a plastic feeding tube down the human's throat was not going to endear them to him. Even with sedatives - which Phil had no clue if they had any they could use on a human without killing it - the procedure would be uncomfortable and cumbersome. And it would make communication difficult.

But he was about desperate enough to consider it. They couldn't allow the human to die on their watch.

"What about intravenous?" Phil asked. He didn't have a lot of knowledge about how that worked, lacking much of the needed physiology. Wilbur's species was probably adjacent enough to something closely resembling humans that he'd be able to tell if it was feasible at all.

"It's worth a shot," Wilbur said. "Do you think he's going to like us sticking him with needles better than the feeding tube?" The edge of humor there eased some of Phil's tension. He hadn't noticed how stressed he was until Wilbur's light tone made him chitter.

Phil held up the communicator Tommy got them. "With this, we might be able to ask."

Wilbur's eyes literally lit up, the pale blue shine reflecting on Phil's scaled body. At heart, Wilbur was a researcher above anything else. He'd admitted freely to Phil early on in their acquaintance that he had taken this job because it would give him a chance to travel on somebody else's dime. If Phil was in it for helping others, then Wilbur was in it for discovering new things. That wasn't to say that Wilbur didn't share Phil's passion for their goal. With all the horrific shit they'd seen throughout the years, they'd have stopped long ago if this wasn't their calling.

But Wilbur was clearly privately delighted at the chance to study a human up close.

They'd turned down the light in the med bay before leaving because Wilbur had read about the day-night cycle of earth. Humans slept in darkness and some part of Phil had hoped it would calm the human down. So he was mildly dispirited to find it awake and clearly in a bad mood. His body language betrayed an unnatural rigidness.

Convincing Techno of their good intentions was not going to be easy.

"Let's see if this will work," Phil muttered. He knelt next to the cage, but out of arm's reach. He felt like he was treading across a minefield. So far, the human had been remarkably calm. But everything Phil knew about Techno's species had warned him about sudden bouts of aggression and how violent humans could be.

Intense blue eyes stared at him. Phil clicked his jaw and made a noise to announce his presence. The human didn't move. He was staring straight through Phil, as if unable to notice him.

"Is he… sleeping?" Phil asked - despite knowing that was impossible.

"Humans don't sleep with their eyes open," Wilbur said behind him. "But then again, they did say he was defective." Phil wanted to hiss at him for how unhelpful he was being.

"I don't think that's it."

He tapped one of his claws against the cage and the human blinked, the tremor that ran through the metal seemingly pulling him from his trance. Phil couldn't read that facial expression. He simply showed the communicator in his palm. When he was certain the human had noticed it, he carefully but quickly slid it between the bars so Techno could pick it up. Wilbur kneeled next to him.

"It's so you can understand us," Wilbur said and gestured at his own ears. "It's going to be a bit strange, but trust me, you'll be grateful for it."

Techno looked at them in non-comprehension. He reached out to grab the communicator, darting glances up at them to watch for sudden moves. Phil sat perfectly still, waiting for Techno to finally hold the communicator up to his face. He studied it for a while, turning the device over. Phil didn't know what he hoped to see or if the electronics of it made any sense to him.

Then, he leaned his head to the side. He winced a bit when brushing his hair over his shoulder, the knots catching on his fingers. A bit awkwardly, he managed to fit the communicator where it belonged.

"Is this working?" Phil asked.

Techno's elbow hit the side of the cage when he flinched back. Phil stayed quiet, hearing Wilbur hum compassionately. Modern communicators dealt with static feedback a lot better and their translation flow was a seamless process. Nobody was conscious of their presence anymore, nor was it unnatural to hear the translated speech layered over another alien's native language.

The technology was advanced to such a point that it wasn't translating literal words or sentences at all, actually. Such a system would be useless for a species like Phil's that lacked vocal cords. What a communicator actually did was catch the meaning behind what was said and convert it into something understandable for the listener. Even hyperspecific terms that only existed in other lifeform's native languages or unique proverbs, pronouns, and names could be translated that way. The process was near flawless.

The communicator Tommy had thrown together for Techno lacked most of those functionalities. It would only be able to translate basic speech - probably with omissions and poor grammar. And it could only be used for short times because of the static strain.

Phil tried to tell himself it was better than nothing.

"Can you understand us?" Phil asked after a moment. Techno looked at him with wide eyes, probably startled at being able to hear their speech in garbled but comprehensible English.

Then he nodded.

"Good. We're going to start by unlocking this cage." Phil looked at Wilbur, motioning for him to stand back. They'd already removed anything that could be used as a weapon and the door was locked behind them. "Move slowly. We don't want any nasty surprises, okay?"

Techno simply looked at him, wariness written all over his face. Phil reached up and undid the latch of the cage, pulling the door open. He stood back too to give the human some space.

After another moment of watching them, perhaps trying to gauge their threat level or if he could win in a fight, Techno crawled out. He leaned back on the metal, using it as a crutch as he tried to pull himself up to his full height. It wasn't exactly successful. The leg Phil noticed earlier as being injured refused to stretch properly and couldn't bear his weight. His pale arms barely managed to keep him from falling down.

Phil chirped some encouragement, trying to relay how glad he was at seeing the human cooperate.

"Next step is to get you on the examination table so we can have a look at you," Phil continued. He took a step toward said table but kept his distance just in case being too close would scare Techno off. "Do you think you can manage that?"

Techno stayed where he was, his breathing coming out in slow, deep pants. He was in a terrible state, that much was clear.

"You should really sit down before you keel over. Head injuries are no laughing matter," Wilbur hummed from his spot at the wall. "Unless you want me to carry you myself."

Techno glared at him and Phil shifted in response, prepared to jump in if needed. He had his taser and he would use it in a blink if the human attacked Wilbur-

Unsteadily, Techno stumbled over to the metal examination table and pointedly sat down on it.

"Oh," Phil breathed. "Yeah, that works."

"Human psychology says they don't enjoy being told what to do," Wilbur remarked as he picked up some of his supplies. "But it looks like this one responds to taunting. He's stubborn."

"Has to be if he survived the arena," Phil said. He didn't fail to notice how Techno tensed up at that word. The communicator must work well enough to convey some of their casual conversation. And Techno did not like to be reminded of the place he was saved from. Duly noted.

"I want to do a basic examination," Wilbur said to the human. He stepped within arm's reach so easily it nearly gave Phil a heart attack. Maybe he should have demanded to perform this initial contact by himself. "First thing's first though." He picked up a scalpel from his tray.

Techno's hand shot out, grabbing Wilbur's wrist. Wilbur made a pained noise that had Phil lifting out his wings, had him move before he could think. The flat of Wilbur's palm found his thorax and pushed him back before he could do anything hasty.

"Wait," Wilbur said, voice slightly pinched in pain. "Wait!" He looked at Phil, wordlessly begging him not to move. Phil waited. Wilbur turned to Techno again. "I only want to take the muzzle off. Will you let me do that?"

Techno's brow furrowed, listening intently to the communicator in his ear trying to translate. Then he let go of Wilbur's wrist and held out his hand.

Phil trilled urgently. "Wilbur, don't-"

But Wilbur had already handed the scalpel over. As soon as Techno's fingers curled around it, Phil was dragging Wilbur away by his shoulder.

"What the fuck are you thinking?!" he yelled, voice embarrassingly raised in pitch due to his anger. He had his elytra fanned out, the hard casing acting like a shield in a pinch. When he looked over, Techno was adjusting his grip on the scalpel and raised it up.

He pressed a hand to his own face so he could delicately insert the small blade between his cheek and the leather strap without cutting himself. He moved it back and forth until the material gave away and he could pull it the rest of the way off, throwing the muzzle on the ground when he was done. Immediately, he broke out in a small coughing fit at finally having his airway cleared.

"Throw the scalpel down too," Phil ordered loudly.

Techno was rubbing the angry red lines on his skin. Some of them were severe enough that they would definitely scar, they would stick to him forever. He ignored Phil's command.

So Phil had no choice but to pull out his taser.

"Phil," Wilbur started but Phil shut him up with a stern look.

"I'll deal with you later." Then back at Techno. "Drop it, now!"

Techno looked at him. He stretched out his arm and very deliberately dropped the scalpel on the floor. Phil bent down to pick it up in one fluid motion, never lowering the taser.

"Out," he told Wilbur.

"But-"

"Take your materials."

They were engaged in a short-lived staring match, though Phil doubted he could call it that when he was looking into Wilbur's empty face. The anger in him only rose at Wilbur failing to grasp that what he had done was crossing a serious boundary.

Knowing the argument needed to happen elsewhere, Wilbur quickly gathered up his items and opened the door. He looked at Phil. "After you."

Pissed off beyond belief, Phil slammed the door behind him when they stepped out into the hallway.

Techno was losing his mind, probably.

So, not only did the aliens who buy him have the most dorky names in the known universe, they also had some kind of weird dysfunctional power dynamic going on. Great.

The insectoid one - Phil, Techno reminded himself. He should probably start to call them by their names - was clearly the leader. But this Wilbur guy was pushing authority. After their strange, puzzling display, they'd both gone out in the hallway to argue with each other. Techno's earpiece could not translate what they were saying through the wall, but he didn't need to be a genius to gather it was some sort of heated discussion.

Phil was scared of Techno. Or didn't trust him. Or something to that effect.

Wilbur didn't seem to think much of him at all.

Techno couldn't say which one of them was closer to the truth.

He liked being rid of the muzzle though. His jaw ached and his throat was too parched to be thinking about doing any debate club activities soon, but he could breathe properly again. He could hear his own voice. It was pretty nice. While the two aliens fought, Techno went through the entire infirmary and opened every cupboard and drawer. He was hoping to find something useful. Yet it looked like the scalpel had been the most dangerous item in the room and Phil had taken it with him when he left.

While Techno was on his knees, prying at a grate that might be used for air circulation, the door opened again. He turned around, automatically pressing himself into the nearest corner. It was only Wilbur who entered. By himself.

Techno shivered at the memory of grabbing his wrists. It was soft, with no bone structure at all. He couldn't help but wonder if Phil was so fussy around Wilbur because his species in particular was seen as vulnerable. It definitely didn't seem very safe to have your organs on display to the outside world.

"Great. We go back. We left off." Wilbur's distinct hums were translated into stuttering waves. Techno didn't like the communicator, it made his head hurt. Like hell he'd remove it and be left not understanding a single thing again though.

Wilbur looked at him in the corner. Or more like, turned his head towards him. He definitely wasn't blind.

"Air ducts. No place to sleep. Unless you're Tommy."

The last word came out even worse than the others. Maybe it was an off translation. Techno shook his head, not understanding.

"Sit down again?" Wilbur asked. He stood close to the examination table once more.

Techno didn't want to, really. Not that he had a choice. He used the wall for support so he could get up and staggered back over. The metal was cold against his feet and ankles.

"Made Phil wait." Wilbur laid his materials out on a small tray behind him so Techno couldn't reach them. The word Phil came through with the same static overlay as the word Tommy had. So Techno felt safe assuming Tommy was not a faulty translation after all, but a name.

He didn't like the prospect of there being a third alien nearby.

"He does not understand. He needs to — quicker." One part of that sentence was lost in the static. Wilbur gestured to Techno's shirt. "Remove layer?"

Getting undressed in front of an alien would probably be more embarrassing if Techno hadn't been forced to do it numerous times in the fight pit, usually to fit armor. At least Wilbur didn't ask him to take off anything else. He only wanted to inspect Techno's chest, hand hovering over the scars and bruises. A lot of them were older injuries, but one gash in Techno's shoulder was from the fight that shattered his kneecap, and with his eagerness to move around he'd torn it back open. Wilbur bandaged it up for him.

When he was done, he checked Techno's knee and made some notes. He took Techno's blood pressure and listened to his chest. He even shone a little light in Techno's eyes to see how reactive his pupils were. Techno could almost delude himself into thinking he was getting a regular check-up at the doctor's office.

Except for the fact that his physician glowed when he hummed while working. Yeah, this was all very normal.

Turning back to his bag, the thing Wilbur pulled out next caught the medbay's harsh light sharply. Techno recoiled at the sight of the syringe, almost falling off the table in his haste.

Wilbur noticed this and put it down again quickly, holding up both hands. His humming got more urgent. "Calm, calm."

"No needles," Techno said.

The sound of his voice made Wilbur freeze. Something about that toothy grin combined with the lack of eyes was more off-putting than comforting, even as Wilbur smiled encouragingly at hearing him speak for the first time.

"Take blood," Wilbur tried. "Feed you."

Techno spoke loud enough that it tore another cough out of him. "No. Needles."

Wilbur considered that for a moment longer, before nodding and putting the syringe away again. "No needles," he agreed, though he didn't exactly look happy about it.

Must suck to have your new lab rat refuse to be a victim to your unethical medicine, Techno thought. A real bummer, truly.

"Stay." Wilbur packed up his stuff quickly. He gestured once more for Techno to not get off the table before hurriedly leaving the room.

Techno wanted to continue his exploration, the hope of finding some escape route a constant appeal. But the way the ship vibrated softly around him made him suspect that they'd taken off. So there wasn't much chance of him going anywhere. How hard could it possibly be to hijack a spaceship? Besides, everything hurt and he was exhausted beyond words. So maybe he could just… take Wilbur's advice and stay put.

Something inside the air duct rattled.

Techno looked at it. Two big green eyes were staring back at him, settled between wild patches of racoon-like fur.

Great, this might as well be Techno's life now.

"You must be Tommy."

The creature had terribly long nails that stuck in the grate. "Hello," he said. "Scars cool."

Techno cleared his throat, though that only made it hurt more. "Thanks?"

When the door opened again, Tommy quickly scuttled out of sight. Wilbur entered, followed by Phil again. Techno gripped the edge of the table.

So Wilbur probably got Phil to help overpower him, right? Physically hold him down for whatever messed up alien experiment they had planned?

Except Wilbur put his medical bag in one of the little closets. It hissed mechanically as it locked. "No needles," Wilbur hummed. He still came across as vaguely concerned about that, yet also resigned. "Rest now. We get food." He gestured for Techno to follow him.

Hesitantly but also more than glad to get the heck out of what looked like a nightmare hospital room, Techno got on his feet again. He didn't entirely manage to suppress a grunt when he put pressure on his bad knee. It didn't hold his weight anymore and while it had been fine while in the cage, now that he had actually started to try and move around on it again, he started to notice how much it hurt.

Wilbur went ahead, looking around every few seconds to urge Techno to come after. Phil brought up the rear. There was no chance he could slip away. Every time Techno looked over his shoulder, Phil was buzzing softly at him and doing this weird thing with his antenna. Techno got the impression it was meant to be reassuring, or somehow be an apology for his earlier behavior.

It was failing pretty spectacularly.

Because they were carting Techno through their ship, past machinery he didn't understand and rooms he couldn't get into. Which was doing anything but make him feel at home. At one point the ship suddenly shook around them. Techno lost his balance and almost fell, if it weren't for Wilbur catching his weight. This only prompted Techno to jump back, wrenching himself away violently enough to bump into Phil behind him.

Phil chittered, the vibrato from it could be sensed through his shell. Techno took a stumbling step away from him too, leaning against the wall for support.

"Feel okay?" Wilbur asked worriedly.

Techno did his best to scowl at him, though there was no heat behind it. "I'm fine." After a moment of the other two considering him and sharing a glance, they continued walking.

They eventually opened a door at the far end of a hallway. The furniture was basic, suited for different species. There was a bed in one corner with a pillow and blanket folded neatly at the head, a round sink, a desk with no chair, and a small hatch into a pressure chamber. Techno wondered if any of the three aliens he met thus far needed one of those to survive.

"For you," Wilbur told him. "Sleep."

Techno nodded. At least it was bigger than his cell back at the arena.

Wilbur and Phil left. Techno checked the door as soon as he heard the hatch at the end of the hallway close behind them, but predictably he was locked up. He also inspected the rest of the room. There was nothing useful to be found. There was also no comfort in discovering there were air ducts that led to this room and small ventilation slits near the ceiling. So he needed to worry about that Tommy guy jumping him in the night.

With a sigh, Techno flicked the lights off using the panel at the door and laid down on the bed.

It would be a while before they got where they were going. So Techno had all the time in the world to wonder what would happen to him once they did.

Techno had been on their ship for three cycli. And so far things were going…

Yeah, they sure were going.

Phil was living in a constant state of stress and his scales were starting to mold. So that was something he had to deal with. Wilbur was willing to help, he'd calmed down very quickly after their fight in the hallway. Phil didn't even want to call it a fight, honestly. It was a fucking mess, plain and simple. And despite having to admit in the end that Wilbur's understanding of humans was probably profound enough to have made the right call, that didn't make Phil less pissed about the situation.

He was only trying to keep all four of them safe, somehow.

"If you approach him right, he shows absolutely zero signs of aggression," Wilbur said calmly. He'd given Phil this spiel a dozen times already.

"You're about to tell me that stress rubs off on him again, aren't you?" Phil asked.

"It's true! And not at all unusual for humans." Wilbur lounged back in his chair at their canteen table. "Remember when we first got Tommy and he kept hiding in the ducts when we entered the room, so we had to leave food out for him to steal?"

Phil took his cup from the dispenser. The fluid inside was thick like syrup. "You're making it sound worse than it was, but yes."

"When you don't know somebody, you don't know what to expect from them. You only have their observed behavior to go off on. Or the behavior of previous encounters with others like them." Wilbur finished pouring water into a glass and put it on the plastic tray he'd brought. "It's the same with Techno. And with us, I suppose. We all need to start on a clean slate."

"You've taken a lot of risks on the assumption that the stories about humans are false," Phil warned. The fact that so far, it had actually worked out for them, was left unspoken.

"They're not false," Wilbur said. "They're just not representative. Think about it, what other point of reference does Techno have for how other lifeforms will treat him?"

Phil followed Wilbur out of the room and toward the sleeping quarters. They had six of them total and since Tommy slept in his nooks, most of them were usually empty. Phil had chosen one to be assigned to Techno. It locked from the outside.

He gave Wilbur's words due consideration and could admit that the other had a point. Techno was presumably taken from his home and immediately dropped into a high-stakes survival situation where every non-human he met was either actively trying to kill him or passively indifferent to his suffering. Phil knew this before buying him, he knew what he was getting into.

He just didn't know if Wilbur's approach of 'staying calm and assuming that meant Techno wouldn't attack unprovoked' was the smartest move.

Then again, people did tell him he worried too much for a reason.

Wilbur knocked on the door before he entered. Techno was sitting on the bed, blanket drawn around his shoulders and using the cushion to support his back. He was staring at the wall and didn't react to them entering.

"He's drifting again," Wilbur said. That's what they had started to call this phenomenon. Humans might have a different name for it, but Phil found it a fair way to describe what happened.

When nobody was actively engaging with him, Techno would often drift.

They'd tried different techniques to make Techno stop. Loud noises tended to work, but they also startled the human and left him in a bad mood afterward. Touch was an absolute no-no. Phil had discovered that the hard way. A few times, they'd decided to simply wait out the episode but that took too long.

So Wilbur had started to hum.

The sound was pleasant, shrill but not overly so. Phil did not recognize the songs. Wilbur said he'd gotten a few from Eret, relics from the short period during which contact with earth was established.

Human music.

After a handful of seconds, Techno blinked and tilted his chin to look up at them. He always had that furtive expression on his face like he wasn't very happy they did that. Phil didn't know why.

Humans were supposed to like music, according to Eret's records. Then again, they were also supposed to be a pack species that enjoyed company and affection through physical touch. Techno always was paranoid and jumpy around them, preferring to be alone. Humans were said to be loud, while Techno was one of the quietest lifeforms Phil had ever interacted with.

Perhaps not surprisingly, being taken from his home and forced into the arena had changed Techno on some fundamental level.

The problem was that it left Phil and the others fumbling in the dark. If even the little information they did have couldn't be applied to Techno, what could they do?

"We brought you food," Wilbur said. "It's the same as yesterday and also some new stuff. You should try to eat it." He put the tray on the bed next to Techno before sitting down himself. "It's still not enough nutrients, I'm afraid."

Techno reached out to take a piece of the bread substitute they'd found. The translator was giving significant feedback, already breaking down from overuse. So he probably only caught a few words from what Wilbur said. They really should get on inserting that neural transplant, Phil knew they should.

However, he also knew that if they forcibly sedated Techno and operated on him, the fragile trust they had managed to build between them would be shattered completely.

"You know what would help with the drifting?" Wilbur said to Phil. "Enrichment."

"Did somebody say enrichment?" Tommy's voice was echoing against the metal casing of the air recycler. When he popped out of the ceiling hatch, Techno didn't flinch like he used to. Tommy being able to pop up wherever and whenever he wanted was something he'd gotten used to remarkably quickly.

"Why were you in there?" Phil asked.

"Checking on the big man, duh." Tommy used two of his four hands to point at Techno, who was furtively chewing his food while keeping a careful eye on them. "I think he's bored. And wouldn't you be, locked in a tiny room like this?" His two other hands gestured to the sleeping quarters.

"So you're asking for my permission to entertain him," Phil surmised. If anything, it probably wouldn't hurt.

"I got a deck of elgieh cards that are dying to be played with," Tommy said.

"It's definitely worth a shot," Wilbur added.

Phil agreed, mostly since they were barely halfway into their trip to headquarters. Leaving Techno as he was until then seemed ill-advised. Wilbur had been able to ascertain his physical condition well enough despite not drawing any blood. Most of Techno's scars were sustained in the arena, not something they could do anything about. The bad leg would be a permanent issue, though Phil supposed they could look into getting a cane if Techno experienced problems when walking long distances. Techno was severely malnourished and their efforts to get food on board were mediocre at best. The liquid nutrients Wilbur had mentioned remained in his cooling compartment untouched. Techno wouldn't let them anywhere near him with a needle.

The psychological damage Techno had sustained was a lot more complicated to judge.

The drifting was a problem. Phil had also figured that the aversion to touch and the inability to sleep were related to trauma too. They were things that weren't unique to humans, necessarily. Emotional welfare and psychology were very complicated in every single species and thus not something they could get pointers on. They could only try to make Techno feel safe and show that they meant no harm. Even if the language barrier made that almost impossible.

Keeping Techno from getting lost within his own mind would be a start though.

Phil watched Tommy lay out the cards on the bed in front of Techno. He explained the rules, though Techno's blank stare told Phil he either didn't get them or the explanation was so long-winded that he'd started drifting again. When they finally started playing, it quickly became even more clear that Techno had no clue what he was doing. Tommy continually had to chide him for trying to do a play that wasn't allowed.

Honestly, it was a little hilarious.

Even Techno seemed to think so. When Tommy lost somehow by what must be a very lucky coincidence on Techno's part, he fluffed up in annoyance. His cheek pouches bulged out and all his hair stood on end, making his tail look twice as thick as usual with bristled fur. He crossed both sets of arms in front of him and growled.

"Beginners luck," Tommy said.

Wilbur laughed behind him, low and melodic. And for a moment, Phil would swear he could see the shadow of a smile on Techno's face. Barely there before it was gone.

It still felt like progress.

In space, Techno had lost his grasp on time passing him by.

For all he knew, he was taken from earth years ago. Techno didn't have a lot of friends or family waiting for him back at home, so he doubted any missing person's posters were ever put up for him. But if they were, surely they'd all been torn down and his disappearance filed away as old news.

He couldn't imagine anybody missing him.

The arena was easy. He was put in his cell and left alone between fights. That time passed in a blink, Techno wasn't very conscious of it. He was either sleeping or he was fighting. He was either eating or he was getting his hands stained in various alien bodily fluids.

This spaceship was different.

Techno couldn't decide if it was nice different yet, but it was certainly different.

Tentatively, Techno would go so far as to say he was starting to like these three. Tommy had begun to drop by his room - not a cell, despite the door being locked on him. Wilbur made it very clear in his clipped speech that this was for Techno's own safety - more and more often. He brought games with him, an endless collection of them. Techno had learned to play cards and something with dice and an alien board game that seemed to be a variant of ludo. Wilbur had found a notebook and a pen so Techno could write or draw. He'd started keeping somewhat of a diary. Not a very in-depth one, his stupid fingers would easily cramp around the pen after a few minutes. But if he ever got back home, Techno could publish one hell of a memoir.

And Phil had taken him on a tour of the ship.

When he'd opened the door and asked for Techno to follow him, fear had been a feral thing in his gut, clawing at his inner rib cage and begging to come out. Some fiber of his being kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for them to show their true colors. Techno had talked to them in as far as he was capable with the bad translator thing they got him, but he hadn't completely figured out their reason for buying him yet. So he could still be in for a nasty surprise.

Phil only wanted to show him around though. He led Techno to the canteen and indicated where his own room and Wilbur's were. He muttered something about Tommy sleeping 'where nobody reaches' which Techno took to mean the air ducts that the small furry alien seemed to adore so much. Then Phil took Techno to a set of stalls with waste disposal units. Techno had a small one of those in his room, next to the sink. This was more akin to a proper bathroom.

There was no experience in the universe more heavenly than taking a warm shower.

When he got out, there were clean clothes for him. Since they were slightly baggy, they might have belonged to Wilbur at one point. Techno stood in front of the mirror and touched his own face, a face he had not seen in ages and honestly didn't feel like his own with all the new scars and blemishes from the arena. His eyes were sunken and his cheekbones were probably a little too pronounced. It felt surreal.

"Wilbur use this. Maybe you use?" Phil was holding out something that looked enough like a comb for Techno to get rid of the worst knots. He nodded gratefully.

"Thank you."

Phil's shoulders sagged with the release of some unseen tension and he chittered at him. Techno was slowly getting used to that sound too.

"I suppose you don't have alien hair dye stashed away somewhere?" he asked, working to detangle the terrible mess growing from his head. He was pretty much back to being a brunette at this point. Phil chittered again, almost close to a laugh this time.

Overall, the amenities of this place were pretty great though. He shouldn't complain. The food could use some improvement, it was always the same stuff and Techno missed a lot of the things the arena used to serve in that weird, detached way people could miss terrible, horrible things. They never gave him enough to deal with his hunger, but there was flavor to it. This stuff was just sad.

"That one?" Tommy asked. He was pointing at a scar on Techno's wrist. It ran all the way around, pale and faded.

They had started to play a game and whenever Tommy won, he was allowed to ask a question. Two things quickly became apparent. One: Tommy would always win because Techno barely managed to understand the rules. And two: Tommy was endlessly fascinated by his scars and asked about them more often than not.

"I hate to disappoint but I don't remember. Maybe I got it back on earth." Techno turned his wrist over and grabbed the dice again. He nearly fumbled and dropped them, his hands were very shaky today.

"Human home?" Tommy asked. Techno knew there was something getting lost in translation there.

"Uh, yeah, that's the planet I'm from. Earth. What about you?" he rolled the dice. His vision was too blurry following the movements so he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Gone," Tommy said, making an odd gesture with one hand.

"You're from a planet named Gone?" Techno tried.

"Planet gone," Tommy said again. "Before I was born."

"Oh." Techno bit at his lip. He felt sick and something told him it had nothing to do with the conversation. "That sucks."

Tommy's grin was all canines and sharp edges. "Nah. Planets gone all the time. We not."

Techno supposed there was some poetic truth to that. Despite his home being swallowed by the unending expansion of matter, Tommy was still here. This also made the rather horrifying thought pop up in Techno's head that the same couldn't be said for humans. If earth blew up right then, Techno would be the only survivor of his species in the entire universe.

It gave him a headache to consider that fact.

"Tommy, Techno," Wilbur said from the doorway. "Food." He tapped the frame twice so they would move. Then he stopped and stared straight at Techno. "Sick?" Wilbur asked.

"Nah," Techno said. "I feel fine."

Eventually, he had managed to find out what exactly Wilbur's deal was. His vision was based on heat signatures and sound waves, somehow. Techno couldn't figure out how it worked, he just knew that Wilbur knew where things were based on sounds he emitted - presumably in a pitch that was high enough that Techno couldn't hear. Neither could Tommy, though Phil complained about it sometimes. Additionally, Wilbur could tell an almost indiscernible difference in temperatures.

This included the temperature of people. Techno did feel a bit chilly today.

He got off the bed, chalking the goosebumps up to the metal casing of the ship. The inside was heated but maybe the generators were slacking today. He let Tommy go first so Wilbur could bring up the rear of their procession. Techno had been allowed to eat in the canteen instead of his room a decent amount of times by now, they still escorted him there and back. Again, Wilbur said it was for his own safety.

And Wilbur had authority because he was some sort of doctor. Maybe? Probably? It was hard to say.

Between the faulty translator and how Techno couldn't observe daily life on the ship while confined to his room, it had been difficult for him to figure out what role each member of the crew actually held. Wilbur was easiest to determine. He was in charge of the med bay and Techno often saw him take notes or compile information on his little wrist computer thing. So he was a medical professional of some kind, maybe a researcher. Phil was the guy in charge. He flew the ship and made the decisions. Techno wondered if there was a job description for that? And Tommy was a mechanic, always tinkering with something. He also flew the ship sometimes.

He felt like Wilbur was observing him as they headed to the canteen. Techno limped slightly. Having to sit still for very long made the ache in his leg worse.

His translator exploded with static when they entered the room and the other three exchanged greetings. The little device didn't like it when multiple people were talking at the same time. Techno hissed and pressed down on it against his ears, hoping to elevate some of the pain. His head already felt like it was tearing open, a cold line cut straight through his brain and the top of his spine. He was dizzy and vaguely nauseous.

Maybe Wilbur was right and Techno was getting sick.

He sat down at the table on what quickly had become his designated seat. Phil was standing at the counter, tapping away at the dispenser in the wall that released a yellowish, viscous fluid for him to drink.

"What food?" Phil asked.

"Anything," Techno said. He hadn't slept worse than usual - though he never slept much - but he felt so tired it was ridiculous. Phil opened the cooling compartment to find something Techno could digest.

Wilbur also sat down. He was probably going to eat the same as Techno. Tommy poured himself the most disgusting-looking bowl of cereal Techno had ever seen, closer to dog food than anything else. The pieces were dry and hard as a rock.

"How long?" Wilbur suddenly said. He arched back in his chair, addressing Phil over Tommy's head.

"Close," Phil said. "Very close. Two turns."

Techno frowned, tapping the communicator in his ear. It was having even more trouble than usual to keep him informed of what was going on around him. Phil walked over with two plates, putting one in front of Techno and the other in front of Wilbur.

There was some sort of slush on it, a tad too liquidy to be appetizing yet somehow managing to hold its form without seeping off the plate's edges. Like most alien food Techno had gotten on this ship it had next to no smell.

Then why did the very sight of it make his stomach churn?

"Feel bad?" Tommy asked, noticing that Techno was sitting there without touching his meal. He was holding the bowl with one hand, the spoon in another, his glass in the third and that left the last hand free to scratch his head.

"No, I… I think I need some water," Techno said and got up.

This turned out to be a terrible mistake.

As soon as he was on his feet, all the blood seemed to rush up into his head, making it pound painfully. Then a moment later it dropped down all at once and Techno went with it. The room swung sideways and he barely caught the edge of the table with his hand before he crumpled and his vision went black.

When he watched Techno collapse, Phil was certain they fucked up and killed the human.

He was so optimistic that they'd been having a fair go at it too. Slowly, very slowly, Techno was warming up to them. His muscles weren't always tensed anymore, his mood seemed to show significant improvement. According to Wilbur, Techno never slept more than a handful of hours which certainly wasn't enough. But Phil had learned to accept that Techno's nervousness had nothing to do with them three and everything to do with his past experiences.

Techno interacted with them of his own volition. He didn't drift as often. They were doing well.

They didn't do enough.

The food situation could not be solved and though Phil had sent a message ahead to headquarters to make sure they would have made preparations, he was reluctant to force Techno. He was so preoccupied with maintaining the trust they had built that he had inadvertently allowed Techno to harm himself.

While Techno was unconscious, Wilbur had drawn his blood. And the results were… concerning.

Phil had authorized the intravenous feeding at once. The extent of Techno's nutritional deficiency was way worse than they could have judged with the naked eye. Phil knew that Wilbur felt responsible and he'd need to have a talk with him later about carrying that burden. It wasn't Wilbur's fault that he was trying to respect Techno's autonomy and Phil needed to make sure that Wilbur knew it had been the right call, considering they'd never be able to get Techno to open up like he did otherwise. Maybe that made Phil a hypocrite. They were both stewing in the same guilt.

It was just that Phil knew he should have made the final call.

Looking at Techno on the med bay's cot, it dawned on Phil again how small he was. Taking Techno's blood had allowed Wilbur to examine a few other biomarkers they couldn't before. Techno had barely reached adolescents by human standards and there was a high chance he had been taken a while ago. Lack of food might have permanently stunted his growth and messed up other parts of his development.

Ripped away from his home planet when he was not even an adult yet? It made Phil sick.

"His heart rate is elevating," Wilbur warned. "I think he's waking up." He leaned over the cot eagerly. "Techno? Can you hear me?"

Phil hadn't heard that fear in Wilbur's voice often before. Maybe that one time Tommy got really sick after a mission when he was exposed to a rare disease only his species could suffer from. It made something twist unpleasantly in Phil's chest, the weight that came with him failing to protect them.

A small, strangled groan forced its way from Techno's chest. His eyes cracked open slowly, glassy blue that couldn't settle on the three shapes above him. Almost instantly, he tried to sit up. Years of survival instincts burned into Techno's memory that being on his back, being vulnerable, was a dangerous thing. It was just that when he tried to move, he found his arm attached to the IV.

Phil watched Techno notice as if in slow motion, gaze sluggishly tracking the bag on the stand next to him and the plastic tube attached down until he found the needle sticking into his skin. He flexed his elbow, trying to pull free.

"Don't," Wilbur said and held Techno's wrist down. They had to remove the communicator, the fragile device hadn't survived Techno's tumble to the floor. "You need this to survive."

Techno blinked at him, maybe surprised he couldn't hear a translation anymore. Or falling down had given him brain damage.

"You fainted because of malnourishment," Phil said. "Do you understand?"

Turning to him, Phil couldn't see anything in those blue eyes. It was worse than the drifting. Techno's chest started to move faster as his breathing picked up.

"Is he alright?" Tommy asked worriedly.

"I don't know-" Phil watched Techno try to pull free from Wilbur's grip again, harder. More urgent. His nails raked over Wilbur's arm deep enough to draw blue-tinted blood. The heart rate monitor spiked, its shrill beeping filling the room. "Wil?"

"He's having a panic attack," Wilbur said. "Fuck, give me the straps." Using both hands, Wilbur was trying to prevent Techno from pulling out the IV and hurting himself worse. Techno brought his other arm up to push Wilbur off but Phil took it in an iron grip too.

"Stop!"

The choked-out English caught Phil by surprise. He winced.

"Tommy, the straps! Now!" Wilbur shouted.

Tommy finally shook himself into action, scampering over to get what Wilbur needed. Techno struggled and writhed with a broken desperation that gave Phil chills. How could he have been made uneasy by Techno's absent calm when this was the alternative? Phil would give everything to never see such deep fear in the human's eyes again.

And it was made all the worse by the broken words that managed to be translated between gasping sobs. "Stop! Please, stop! Don't!"

"It's okay," Wilbur hummed louder. He couldn't hope to reach Techno. "We're trying to help, it's okay." It did nothing to calm Techno down. Even less so when Tommy handed him the straps and Wilbur started using them to bind Techno's arms against the table.

"You're making it worse!" Tommy slammed two of his hands together, seeming indecisive about whether he should stop Wilbur or not.

"I rather he hate us than have him rip his vein open and bleed out," Wilbur bit out curtly. Stress was making his skin pale more, the internal glow of his nervous system making stark shadows on his face.

Tommy didn't look convinced. "Can't we try to calm him down?"

"If you have any suggestions, I'm all ears."

Phil was searching his brain trying to come up with anything he had read about humans that could serve them in this situation. None of the advice had worked so far, Techno was not a textbook example of expected human behavior. And his every reaction to touch had been extremely adverse so far.

But that was also all that Phil could remember through his own haze of panic.

He tried to move slowly so Techno wouldn't get alarmed by any sudden actions, though the human was too wound up to notice anything beyond Wilbur who was strapping his flailing limbs down for Techno's own protection. Phil met no resistance as he positioned himself at the head of the bed, reaching out to hold Techno's face in his claws.

Gently but firm, he pressed the pads of his fingers into Techno's temple, applying just the faintest amount of pressure. It worked to redirect Techno's attention up at him, wide-eyed and shaking. Tremors ran through his entire body, though within seconds he had already lost the energy for much struggling so all that was left were these odd spasms. There was a small trace of water on Techno's cheeks. Phil thought they were called tears.

"It's okay to be scared. We're here."

Techno tried to shake his head but couldn't. Wilbur had finished using the straps to secure Techno in position. When he reached out to make sure the IV was fine, Techno flinched. Phil pressed down a little harder.

"I know, I know. Try to breathe. Like this." To demonstrate, Phil took a mock inhale and really hitched up his shoulder. He used his claw to tap out the seconds on Techno's face, so he'd know how long to hold it in and exhale again. "Slowly," Phil said. "Slowly."

Techno's chest hitched and for a moment Phil thought it wouldn't help. Then he saw Tommy take one of Techno's hands in his and squeeze. Wilbur was rubbing a thumb over Techno's wrist on his other side.

"Like this," Phil repeated.

After a few seconds, Techno took a stuttering, deep breath.

"Tommy," Phil started as calmly as he could manage. "I want you to get Techno's communicator in the bare minimum of working order as quickly as you can manage. Within the hour if possible."

"Yeah…" Tommy said but seemed reluctant to let go of Techno's hand. Until Phil removed one claw from Techno's face so he could take over. Then the younger lifeform couldn't be off quickly enough.

It felt like an eternity sitting there, watching Techno strain against the leather keeping him in place. At one point he closed his eyes and Phil feared he was going to drift again, that what little progress they had managed to make was slipping away before their very eyes. Until he heard that beneath every deliberate breath, there was a smothered word.

"Sorry," Techno said to them. "I'm sorry."

And as he said it, Techno was not watching him anymore. He opened his eyes again to look at Wilbur, at the scratch marks that Wilbur gingerly held out of the way even while he refused to stop trying to reassure Techno with his other hand.

It broke Phil's heart in an entirely new manner.

Tommy finished his task in record time and Phil felt an immeasurable relief when they were finally able to fit the communicator into Techno's ear again. The static was worse than before and made Techno wince. Phil knew it would only be for a very short while. They were almost to headquarters. They almost made it.

"Techno? Can you understand me?"

Techno nodded.

"I know you said no needles, but you passed out. The IV is keeping you alive. Do you understand?"

Another nod. Techno was shaking, either due to shock or the cold. Before Phil could even ask, Tommy had left the room and came back with the blanket from Techno's bed to tuck around him.

"We're only one cycle away from headquarters. Do you want to sleep until we get there?"

Wilbur had drawn Techno's blood. Making a sedative that would work for him was child's play at this point.

Techno licked his lips, considering the choice laid before him. Then he smiled, frail and empty. "Yeah. I- I really don't like needles."

Phil tried to give him a weak chitter in return. "Yeah, we can tell, mate. It's okay."

Techno squeezed his hand back before closing his eyes again. He did not draw away from their touch, rather leaning his cheek into it. As if it was something he wanted, he craved.

Phil could only hope that meant not all was lost.

Techno awoke in the council's private hospital ward about twenty-four hours after being put under for the operation and forty-eight hours after arriving there, with a brand new neural implant and a jittery feeling in his fingers.

When he arrived, he had also freshly awoken from deep sleep. So he hadn't fully processed what was happening when he stepped out of the ship and into a controlled environment on the largest station he'd ever seen. Techno's legs were like jelly, which combined with the bad knee meant Wilbur had to support him with an arm around his waist. The landing pad was cleared out, as if every other member had laid down their work and left. There was a single alien there to greet them.

Techno discovered their name was Eret.

The first thing Eret had done was hand him a thin screen. Then they spoke, with the words appearing in English on the infopad Techno had been handed. The technology was so deceptively simple Techno wished they'd had it for his weeks on the ship.

Welcome to Nitania cluster headquarters, the council's biggest established vantage point. Its name is Eret. Please, allow it to lead you to your next destination.

The next destination was a simple room where Techno had been buried in a ton of paperwork and an overwhelming amount of information. Eret assured him all of it could be repeated later, though the one thing that stood out to him was a consent form for a neural implant with a translator function.

Techno had signed it immediately. He was so sick of not understanding what the heck people around him were saying.

And that led him to where he currently was, sitting in the hospital bed while Tommy laid out cards on the sheet so they could play. Techno's head didn't hurt anymore, aside from a slight ache from the procedure. It was minimally invasive, as promised. And they'd only had to shave off a tiny bit of his hair.

He tried not to stare in the mirror, it did look a little cringe.

"You're cheating, you gotta be," Tommy accused. He was doing the thing where he fluffed up because he was a sore loser.

"Nah, I'm winning because I actually understand what the rules are now," Techno corrected. "It's your turn."

Wilbur and Phil both walked into the room, looking mighty pleased with themselves. The way Phil rubbed his hands together and Wilbur's gleeful humming definitely meant the plan they'd been cooking up was successful.

"So, we talked to Eret," Wilbur said. "They admitted our proposal is being considered. Whatever the fuck that means. I think they're being an enigmatic prick for no reason, honestly."

Techno had needed a moment to get used to actually hearing their language translated properly. It was amazing how different these guys sounded when their words weren't being filtered and layered through what sounded like an old flip phone speaker with a static overlay right next to Techno's ear canal.

"I think we have a shot," Phil said.

"A shot at what?" Tommy asked. Oh right, they didn't want to tell him in case the idea didn't pan out. The disappointment would crush him according to Wilbur.

"We're trying to get Techno a crew permit." Phil dragged over a chair. "So he can work on the team." He looked at Techno then, something hopeful about the way his wings thrilled. "If he wants to, that is."

"I told you, I'm not making any decisions with hospital-grade anesthesia still in my bloodstream," Techno said.

Then again, his options were to either work for the council as some sort of 'human expert consultant slash diplomat' or be put into their rehabilitation center for species that couldn't be sent back to their home planet for whatever reason. If he chose the latter, the odds were slim he'd ever see the other three again.

So maybe the choice was not as hard as he made it out to be.

"You're going to stay on the ship forever?" Tommy asked, hopeful. Techno got what Wilbur said about crushed hope.

"Maybe," he said.

"If he gets cleared," Wilbur added quickly. "Believe it or not, but this is the first time they had to figure out how allowing a human to roam the galaxy would work. We might need to chaperone him everywhere."

Techno scowled, not wanting to admit that the thought of these guys stalking him wherever he went wasn't half as terrible as it probably should be. "Kind of lame."

"How about we chaperone you to the hospital cafeteria for now?" Phil asked. He picked up Techno's new cane from where it was leaning against the nightstand. "You have been cleared to leave this room already."

"Wow, free roaming in an entire building?" Techno asked. "I don't know if I'm ready for that."

Another great upside of having the new translator, it could actually detect and convey sarcasm.

"Yeah! Let's go, I'm starving." Tommy used all four hands to shuffle the cards back into a deck.

"They actually have food you can eat here," Wilbur said lightly. "So no more needles."

Yeah, Techno could definitely live with that.

And as they started to walk through the council's clean tiled hallway, he could see the glass panels above him that reflected a whole galaxy of stars back at him, waiting to welcome him into a new life.