Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you ever think about aliens?” Tommy randomly asked one day, walking down a street to get to the local pizza place. Tubbo, walking next to him, gave him a weird look.

“What? Why are you thinking about aliens?”

Tommy shrugged, not noticing the way Tubbo carefully patted his hair.

“Just, y’know. There’s been another reported sighting of aliens. Feels like everyone’s talking about it lately.”

“Eh, it could be mass hysteria.”

Tommy blinked.

“What?”

“It’s this thing when- ugh. Nevermind. I don’t think it’s really aliens, I think people are just seeing what they expect.” Tubbo looked aside, and scowled when someone squinted at his gaze and did a double-take. “Anything weird and everyone falls to hysterics.”

“That’s a lot of similar words,” Tommy noted. “Tech would deduct points for that.”

“I don’t think I’m going to turn this conversation into an essay and have your brother grade it.” Tubbo shuddered melodramatically. “I can’t even imagine having to spell ‘hysteria’.”

Tommy laughed, then tugged on Tubbo’s jacket. 

“C’mon, here’s the door. You’re coming over after this, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Tubbo grinned. “I mean, what else am I supposed to do?”

“I mean, don’t you have a job or something?” Tommy sighed, sitting down in his favorite booth. 

“Yeah, I have a job, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stay over.” Tubbo surveyed the menu with a thoughtful expression. “I am allowed to take days off, you know.”

“Alright, fine. C’mon, let’s order.” Tommy looked up as a waitress approached, smiling brightly. “Hi! We’re ready to order.”

The waitress smiled back.

“Sure thing, hon. What’ll it be?”

“Just a small pepperoni.”

“And you?”

Tubbo had been squinting at his menu, quietly sounding the words out, then he looked up with panic.

“Um! Same as him.”

“Do either of you want anything to drink?”

Once they’d finished ordering, Tommy tapped his fingers on the table.

“Seriously, though. Aliens are probably real. Statistical probability and all that.”

“Yeah, and guess what? There’s no town group chat for aliens.”

Tommy squinted at his best friend. “What? There’s a town group chat? Why?”

“You and Techno.” Tubbo raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. “You two are the real weird things in town. Everyone’s always swapping theories - my favorite is how he’s a mad scientist and you’re his experiment and you go to town to fetch supplies.”

“Dude, all I buy is groceries, dog food, and books.”

“Still.”

“Tech, I’m home!” Tommy kicked the screen door shut behind him, kicking his shoes off and dropping his bag down on the couch. Tubbo vaulted over the back of said couch and stretched out, already completely at home. 

Techno poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Did you go to the bookstore like I wanted?”

“Uh, yeah. I found these,” Tommy pulled out the books that had been wearing down his shoulders the entire walk home, “but there wasn’t much.”

“Eh, it’s fine. Hey Tubbo.” Techno scooped the books up, inspecting the titles, then nodded and began to walk back towards the kitchen. Tommy tagged along after him.

“Hey, did you know you have a group chat about you?”

“Why?”

“Cause you never go to town.”

“I’ve been to town, Tommy. I’m not a hermit.”

“Okay, going once when I had the flu doesn’t count.”

Techno snorted, but his expression stayed collected. 

“I’m going to put these away. You can get set up wherever, but I’m warning, Tommy’s room hasn’t been aired out in a month.”

“Oh, man.” Tubbo snorted. “Better not risk it, then. I’m staying out here where it’s safe.”

Tommy swatted him with a throw pillow and Tubbo yelped, then swatted him back. 

While they expelled all that energy through an impromptu pillow fight, Techno walked in with a stack of blankets and a mug that he was drinking out of. Watching the two, he frowned when on occasions something seemed off about Tubbo’s features, the light gleaming oddly on his eyes. Techno paused, then cast a suspicious glance at his mug before dropping the blankets and walking back out to read his new books. Weird things happened all the time in town (him being one of them), so what was a mildly suspicious brother’s friend?

Techno spent most of the afternoon in his room or the kitchen, reading and tuning out the sounds of chaos from the living room. He only came out when he heard the door shut, sitting down next to Tommy on the couch and opening the door for the dogs - the only other residents of the house - to come out. The living room was promptly filled with playful barking as two of the dogs got into a tug of war over a rope toy and the others scattered to their favorite spots.

“Are you having fun kids?” Techno asked absently, propping his elbow on Tommy’s head as one of the dogs decided to lay down on his feet.

“You coulda’ played with us,” Tommy mumbled with the post-social exhaustion he always got and slipped back to flop over Techno’s legs. “It’s fun.”

“Child, you know how my battery’s even worse than yours.” Techno affectionately and idly patted Tommy’s head without looking up from his book. “Interacting with Tubbo for longer than ten minutes would make me die on the spot.

“You’d die of fun.” Tommy was messing with his fidget cube, but he paused for half a second to help another dog onto the couch and pull it closer. “Don’t you think so, Shroud?”

The dog then proceeded to lick his face, which wasn’t a very sensible answer, but Techno smiled anyway.

“Again, my battery is worse than yours and you look ready to pass out. I’m not trying it.”

“You should try talking to people though,” Tommy countered, pulling Shroud away so he could wipe off the dog slobber. “People in town think you’re not real.”

“That’s good.” Techno lightly bonked Tommy’s face with his book, seeing the confused expression there. “It means I’m even less obligated to talk to people. Gotta keep the reputation.”

Tommy huffed, then cracked open an eye. 

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I’m going to sleep here.” 

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” Tommy shut both eyes again. “Look, I’m laying down and I’ve got my eyes closed.” 

“Tommy, it’s not even six. You’ll feel better when you eat.”

“No I won’t.”

“Don’t you remember when you were twelve?”

“When I fell asleep in the car and woke up at a different altitude so my brain hurt?”

“No, when you hadn’t eaten breakfast and you had a meltdown because you didn’t want to go to that summer camp.”

“Oh.” Tommy frowned. “I don’t remember that.”

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“You were completely fine after I took you to that chicken place.”

“With the hot sauce?”

“Yeah.”

“I remember the hot sauce. But- but! It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means you get cranky when you’re hungry, so c’mon and eat, there’s leftovers in the fridge.”

“Too tired,” Tommy grumbled. Techno sighed, set down his book, and hauled them both upright. Tommy flailed when he was dragged by his ankles, then kicked away and stood up. Shroud bounced around his feet, yapping and nearly getting stepped on by one of the larger dogs. “Jeez! Look, I’ll take a quick nap then eat.”

“Eat then nap.” Techno folded his arms. “But you can take food to your room.”

Tommy perked up.

“Good plan, Techno-the-blade! I will be doing that! Yep, mhm mhm.” He ran for the kitchen. 

“If your dishes don’t come out in selling all your stuff on eBay!” Techno called after him. Seeing as he’d already eaten when Tubbo was there, he went and sat down, propping his feet up on a dog belly and going back to his book.

*****

Techno had mostly zoned out when he heard the tapping of footsteps and the porch door sliding shut. 

He looked up from his book. 

“Tommy?” The footsteps sounded too ‘clickety’ to be a human’s. One of the dogs, maybe? But then why would Tommy be letting one of the dogs outside? 

Techno stood and counted all the dogs he could see. Max, Steve, Apollo, Shroud, Carl, Bear, and there was a tail sticking out from behind a couch, the sound of lapping from the kitchen, and a squeaky toy being murdered in Techno’s room. 

He stood. 

All the dogs were accounted for. 

So what was the sound?

Just to be safe, he grabbed the rifle that was hanging on the wall as he walked through the house. The gun had been left behind by the previous owners, and he’d elected to keep it since he and Tommy lived out in the relative wilderness, over two hills away from town. 

You never knew who would be around.

First, just to make sure, Techno silently opened the door to Tommy’s room. 

The bed was empty.

A half-eaten plate of food rested on the nightstand.

Techno’s heart dropped into his stomach, but he forced himself to keep his cool. It could be nothing, he told himself sternly. Tommy might’ve stepped out to get some air. 

So what was the sound?

He stepped to the porch door, peering through the glass. 

No sign of Tommy.

The heart in his stomach stopped beating.

There was fabric stuck between the boards of the porch. The same color as Tommy’s shirt.

Panic raced through his veins, getting Techno’s heart working again so blood pounded in his head. He opened the door slowly, slipping outside and standing at the edge of the porch, squinting at the trees. The splintery wood dug into his bare feet. Movement, shaking some of the branches in the distance. 

Techno hadn’t realized he was moving until he was striding through the long grass of the backyard, around the giant tree and closer, ever closer, to the Thing in the woods. 

He could see hints of pearly white between branches, in the fading light. There was the scrape of wood against something harder. Techno slowed, making sure to step lightly. 

Garbled sounds trickled through his hearing as the Thing came closer into view.

Eight ghostly limbs. 

Insectine legs. 

Tommy draped over its back.

Techno cocked the rifle he still clutched, aimed, and fired.

The Thing screeched and dropped, and Techno ran for his brother. He half-picked Tommy up, feeling his heart race even as the Thing died next to them.

“Oh, god. Tommy, Tommy, are you okay?” Tommy’s head lolled, eyes shut. He was breathing, but he wouldn’t move and Techno didn’t know if he was unconscious or sedated or-

Something hooked into his shirt and pain sparked through his ribs as he slammed into a tree. 

Techno coughed, but found himself unable to draw breath as he lifted his head.

Another one of those Things stood over its fallen comrade, draped in green fabric. Techno didn’t know how to describe the creature, how its fingers folded against one another and the sleek, sharp lines of its legs spoke of something unreal, something that didn’t belong on earth.

The thing’s head, smooth and round, tipped to the side as it seemed to inspect Techno.

It didn’t look like a head. No visible features but two small holes for eyes and a crack shaped like a human smile, stretching far out of Techno’s view.

Techno coughed again and found he could finally breathe, scrambling for something, to fight back, to protect his brother.

Where was the gun? Where was the gun? He’d dropped it among the leaf litter to check if Tommy was breathing.

Tommy! Tommy was being picked up by the living Thing, dangling in its spindly grasp.

“No,” Techno croaked, but when he tried to stand up pain wracked up and down his spine and he fell back down. “Don’t.”

The Thing made a sound like static, and leaned down to prod at the body of the dead Thing. It seemed confused when it found a hole at the side of the dead Thing’s head.

“What? Never seen a bullet hole before?” Techno began to drag himself over to where the rifle had fallen. Just a few feet. That was all between him and Tommy. 

The Thing took notice of this and skittered to the side, one sharp-ended leg directly next to the rifle.

Techno froze. The leg had all the looks of armor, and was considerably thicker than he expected. It could probably snap his arm in half if he reached for the rifle.

There was a sound remarkably like the hiss of a kettle, and the Thing bent down. The lower pair of arms unfolded, opposite-facing fingers curling around the barrel of the gun and lifting it up. Techno growled under his breath, hand curling into a fist. He didn’t want to risk being shot by accident because he grabbed for the gun, so he stayed still as the Thing skittered out of view, with Tommy in tow.

As soon as it vanished, Techno slammed both palms into the ground and heaved himself upright. His side and back were aching, but he was used to pain, so he gritted his teeth and limped for home. First things first.

His ribs weren’t cracked, thank heavens, but Techno could see a nasty bruise beginning to form beneath scraped skin. He hissed gingerly and decided to ignore it for now. He wasn’t bleeding much, and he couldn’t see any splinters, so it could wait. It would have to wait. 

Techno looked up when he heard the doorbell ringing. He grabbed a knife out of the block in the kitchen and walked back through the living room, nudging Shroud to the side as he opened the door.

There stood Tubbo on the front steps, wearing a hoodie. 

“Hey, sorry but I think I left my phone here, I don’t-” his eyes flicked down and widened. “Why do you have a knife? Has something happened?”

“Tommy’s gone.”

“What? What do you mean, gone?” Tubbo frowned. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Techno stepped back and Tubbo went to the couch, fishing his phone out from between the cushions. “I- I don’t know what happened. Some thing came in the house, and I went looking and it had Tommy, I shot it but there was another and it took him, it took Tommy and now he’s gone.”

“Some thing?” Tubbo was quiet for a moment, scrolling through his phone, then he scowled. “Aw, shit.”

“What?”

Tubbo didn’t reply immediately, still scrolling and pacing.

“Two goddamn years on this planet,” he mumbled, “I leave for half an hour and it all goes to hell in a basket. Gonna love explaining this to the federation when I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“What?” Techno shook his head, stepping closer and forgetting that he still held a knife so the blade hovered next to Tubbo’s neck. “Tubbo, I swear, if you know what’s going on then explain.”

Tubbo chuckled nervously, moving away from the kitchen tool so it wasn’t as dangerous to breathe.

“Big man, if I tell then you have to promise not to do anything crazy.”

Techno frowned.

“Okay. Why would I do something crazy?”

Tubbo let out a breath.

“Because Tommy’s been taken by - most likely - an alien warlord. Not the warlord himself, but definitely one of his minions.”

“Hol- back up. Alien?” Techno took a step back, not trusting Tubbo’s flat, calculating stare.

“You saw what took Tommy. Are you really going to tell me that it was from Earth?”

Techno felt his skin crawl.

“No. No, I won’t.”

“Good. Now sit down so you don’t pass out.” Tubbo sighed, muttering something inaudible as he folded his arms. “Alright, easiest things first. Yes, aliens are real. There’s about four species in an interplanetary alliance, one outside of the official alliances and generally seen as planet conquerors and one more up for consideration to join the IA - humans.”

“Okay… and how do you know this?”

Tubbo absently kicked at the ground, giving Techno a sheepish grin.

“I’m kind of hiding out from the IA at the moment.”

It took a few seconds to click, then Techno leaned back.

“You’re an alien.”

“Well-spotted, big man.”

“But you look human.”

“Yeah. My species is the most humanoid, so we’re the ones who’re coming to Earth to do studies and stuff on human behavior to see if we want them to join or not.” Tubbo reached up and pulled some of his hair back, revealing what looked like a small, brown spike jutting out of his skull. “I still have nonhuman traits.”

“But you said you’ve been on Earth for two years.” Techno gave him a suspicious glance. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen, but I wasn’t supposed to come here for another three years.” Tubbo smirked. “Probably should’ve listened, since I still can’t read human languages that well.”

“Okay, you’re an alien. My brother’s best friend is secretly an alien.” Techno remembered the knife, setting it down and putting his face in his hands. “That’s not weird at all. This… how did you even get here?”

“Had a friend drop me off.”

Lightbulb. Techno looked up.

“Could the friend possibly come back?”

Tubbo snorted.

“What? That’s-” he paused. “Where is this going?”

“I need to get Tommy back.”

“There’s an entire section of the military that keeps humans from being taken, it’ll be-”

“Fine?” Techno stood, towering over Tubbo. “You just said that Tommy’s been kidnapped by a warlord. Nothing’s fine about that, and I’m not trusting a bunch of strangers to rescue him in time. Do you understand?”

“Yeah. I understand.” Tubbo nudged his shoulder. “And I’ve already broken the law by being here anyway.”

“Good, let’s go.” Techno started walking but Tubbo grabbed his arm.

“Nope, not so fast. You’re not just running off, it’s going to take a couple hours for the ship to get here anyway. Also, you need to pack and figure out what’ll happen here once you leave.” Tubbo paused, then sighed. “Plus I need to apologize to my boyfriend for not calling.”

“What?” Techno frowned. “You never said you were dating anyone.”

“Because he’s on the ship. If I’m very nice he can get the captain to make a detour and pick us up.” Tubbo began to walk to the kitchen, digging through his jacket pockets. “Pro tip! If you’re long-distance dating someone, don’t forget to talk to them for three months. I’m going to step outside, if I don’t come in then assume that I was murdered through the phone.”

Techno snorted at the absurdity but went to collect his things. 

He’d packed a ‘for emergencies’ bag some time ago, because you never knew what might happen, and it was well-thought-out enough that he just slung the duffel over a shoulder and called it good. On second thought, he went and grabbed the axe from under his bed. It had also been left behind by the previous owners, and Techno had immediately stashed it away like the other assorted items capable of causing pain, general harm, or death. Techno slung the axe into a loop outside the duffel and went to find Tubbo. 

Tubbo was standing on the back porch, pacing back and forth and gesturing as he talked. Words could be heard through the crack where the door hadn’t been shut fully, but not words that Techno understood. It couldn’t have been a human language, since it sounded more like the rattling cries of a goat or sheep than… say…. French. Not that any other human language sounded like French. What was he thinking about? Alien languages, right. How did Tubbo speak English, anyway?

Techno shook his head to clear it of distracting thoughts even as he heard Tubbo say something soft in the alien language and walked back.

“Alright, we have a ride. The ship’ll be here in four hours and why do you have an axe?”

Techno shrugged.

“Just in case.”

Tubbo looked more than slightly alarmed at that statement, but didn’t bring it up. 

“Well, they’re meeting us at my place to pick up my stuff, so let’s go.”

Techno hesitated at the coatrack, feeling leather beneath his fingers. He could almost feel the sting of skin slicing open.

He shook his head and pulled the leather jacket on. 

“Why in all the cosmos are you taking the dogs?” Tubbo stepped back, pinning himself to the car as Steve inspected him eagerly, as if he might’ve changed in half an hour. Of course, him being an alien might’ve had something to do with the dogs’ fascination. Maybe aliens smelled weird. “Th- they’re dogs.”

“Yeah?” Techno tossed his duffel into the trunk, hauling Bear into the crate in the back and adding Empire so she wouldn’t be lonely. “It’s not like I can have anyone take care of them while I’m gone.”

“What- can’t you just… let them loose?”

Techno blinked, trying to keep Shroud from squirming out of his grasp.

“They’re domestic, I’m pretty sure they’d die within a week.”

“Oh.” Tubbo got into the car. “That’ll be a hoot to explain, I’m pretty sure Bear and Steve are nearly the same size as the captain.”

Techno gave him a look.

“What?”

“Hm? Oh, the captain-” Tubbo made an odd grating sound that sounded very painful, then frowned. “His name doesn’t really translate into English. He’s a, uh… I guess you could call them harpies? Maybe avians? Also doesn’t translate. Whatever. They’re like people, but birds. And he’s smaller than other avians, so… maybe he’s just weird.”

“You said there were five different species,” Techno said, shutting the door as the last of the dogs jumped in and going around to the driver’s seat. “You, and this captain guy makes two. What are the others?”

“Out of the crew, if we’re including me, there’s four of the species, since there’s two avians. We’ve also got someone who’s basically a combination of slenderman and like… I dunno… a gazelle. And a fish lady, Niki. She’s chill.” Tubbo shifted to the side as Carl climbed onto his lap, then sneezed. “Dude, do you ever clean this car?” He forcibly made Carl sit down as Techno backed out of the driveway, since otherwise the greyhound’s stupidly long legs would block his view.

“Tommy uses it more than me, ask him.” 

Realizing what he’d said, Techno unconsciously clutched the steering wheel tighter. His ears were ringing, but it sounded more like sirens. The harsh tone of his phone.

“Do you hear that?”

Child missing is Tommy Innit, 9 years, blonde hair, blue eyes…

“What?”

“Nothing.” Techno shook his head. “Nothing.”

He drove in silence.

Town was fairly empty, which would be expected on a weeknight, but Techno didn’t like the weird looks he got from the few people out and about, and he mentioned it to Tubbo.

“Dude,” Tubbo hissed back, “We’ve got an actual dog horde on strings.”

“That’s to keep them from running away.” Techno scowled back at someone and they hurriedly looked away. “People aren’t staring because of the dogs.”

Said dogs were decidedly mixed between (A) terrified of town and all the Loud and Bright Things and (B) incredibly Interested in all the New Things and trying to yank their leashes out of Techno or Tubbo’s hands. Shroud was the only exception, as he was barking frantically at anyone who got close by from where he sat in the pocket of Techno’s duffel. 

Tubbo sighed and shook his head.

“I know that. C’mon, we’re getting close.”

He led the way to a gap between two stores. Techno knew that the alley eventually led to a doctor’s office, but Tubbo stopped midway through and began to trace his fingers through the grooves between bricks.

“Uh…” Techno had the sudden thought that maybe Tubbo was just crazy. 

But of course, then Tubbo’s ears (which were inexplicably similar to that of a grazing mammal) decided to twitch as something crashed outside the alley, and Techno remembered that he’d seen proof. Even if Tubbo was crazy, he was most definitely not human, and Techno had encountered something more-than-earthly that night.

Tubbo cleared his throat, and Techno was abruptly brought back to the present.

“Alright, stay close. I don’t know if you’ll be able to come inside.”

“Chilling in an alleyway?” Techno raised his eyebrows, ignoring the animals clambering over his feet and around his legs. “I’ve done that before.”

Tubbo wrinkled his nose, pulling his hair back to dislodge loose strands (and revealing his horns again in the process).

“You’ve slept in alleys? When?”

“A long time ago.” Techno cleared his throat and changed the subjects. “If you said there’s a door, then why aren’t I seeing one?”

“Specially designed adaptive camouflage,” Tubbo replied easily, feeding one of the loose hairs into what looked like a completely innocent brick. “The door will be revealed if nonhuman DNA is inserted, aaaaand-” the bricks flickered and disappeared, revealing a surface not unlike a mesh net but entirely made of wires and what looked like tiny sensors. “Here we go, badda bing badda boom, one secret door at your ready.” Tubbo grinned at Techno and flipped up a section of the wire mesh, revealing a handle. “Believe me, it took a while to get a workable design. The camouflage has to match the quality, color variations, and condition of its surroundings, as well as adapt over time as things change.” Tubbo opened the door, letting the dogs go in first and explore. Techno followed, ducking slightly. It seemed that most members of Tubbo’s species weren’t as tall as him. 

The room wasn’t much to look at. It seemed mostly like a studio apartment, with a set of bunks, kitchen area, and shelves. Except, in one corner there was what looked like a two-way radio broadcasting system, all of the technology was unfamiliar, and there was such a strong sense of weirdness that Techno had to sit down on the closest chair, letting the dogs run free and explore all they liked. Like someone from the desert encountering a forest for the first time, Techno couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that everything seemed slightly… off. The colors of the bedding and clothes seemed slightly to the left of colors Techno knew, the food abandoned on dishes not like any vegetation that he recognized, and even now as he watched Tubbo putter around, packing things into a set of wooden crates, something about him screamed that this wasn’t human, just an identical copy. Skin too green, hair too thick and falling in a way he didn’t recognize, and eyes that had the sideways pupils of a goat, of something that just happened to look human but was anything but.

Tubbo paused, then looked over.

“You good, big man?”

This was Tommy’s best friend. Sure, he wasn’t human, but neither was the curly white face of the dog pushing his head into Techno’s hands. It didn’t matter.

“Fine. Just… aliens.”

Tubbo laughed.

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to. You’ll be fine.”

The radio set in the corner crackled, an unfamiliar set of sounds filtering out and filling the room. It was the same kind of sound that Tubbo had used when talking about the captain, so Techno assumed this was the very same… uh… person.

Tubbo went over, lifting up what must’ve been a microphone and replying in the braying tones he’d used back on the porch. Techno couldn’t help but wonder how the two understood each other as a short conversation followed, ending with Tubbo grinning and hanging up.

“Alright, the ship’s here. Someone will be by in a few minutes.” He stood and began to rifle through a box sitting on the top of the radio set. “Speaking of that, we need to get you a universal translator. Pretty much everyone on the ship only speaks their native language, the exceptions being me and Ranboo.”

“Who?”

“My boyfriend.” Tubbo dug out what looked like a metallic choker necklace and an earpiece, unhooking part of the earpiece and plugging into the device he held. “Anyway, give me a second to get this programmed to translate to English and you’ll be right as rain.”

Techno gladly stayed sitting. He picked burrs out of Empire’s curly fur just to give him something to do, since if he sat still he might  shake apart. 

Luckily, it wasn’t too long before the door opened again and someone ducked beneath. Techno’s hands stopped because his mind was too busy whirling, trying to process what- who he was looking at. 

“Ranboo!” Tubbo greeted the figure eagerly, dropping what he was doing and running over, making a great halfway measurement for - he was dating this guy? Ranboo was absurdly, inhumanly tall, with extra long limbs and fingers that for some reason were split evenly between black and white, right down the center of his face. His eyes matched the color scheme, the red one on the white side, so Techno thought he might’ve just been a piebald, or whatever the equivalent was with aliens from another planet.

Ranboo blinked slowly, crouched so he wouldn’t scrape his horns on the ceiling. He said something back, and Tubbo turned to Techno, then slapped his forehead.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll get the translation set for you.”

The choker almost seemed too tight, and Techno couldn’t stop himself from squirming as if that would make it loosen. He forced himself to sit still when Tubbo put on the earpiece, which seemed designed to hide as a cartilage piercing.

“Alright, there. Sorry, the necklace doesn’t go any looser.”

“It’s fine,” Techno replied automatically, and Tubbo’s ears picked up. 

“Oh, good! It works.”

“What?” Techno was sure he’d spoken English. “How do you know?” 

Tubbo turned his head to the side, tapping a spot on his skull. 

“I’ve got a translation implant, but human languages aren’t public access. I’ve got copies of the English add-on, but I don’t have it myself since I already understand a couple of human languages.”

When Techno listened hard, he could make out the barest snatches of inhuman speech just out of his recognition.

“Okay… where is this going?”

“I’m hearing your words in my native language,” Tubbo said cheerfully, but what it looked like he was saying seemed completely different. “And you’re hearing mine in yours. That’s how the translation system works.” He turned to Ranboo. “But for you, I’m getting the add-on.”

“Your horns are so small,” Ranboo said, and even though the translation didn’t seem to pick up on nuance, Techno suspected from his wide eyes that he was supposed to sound offended. Tubbo smirked at him before going back to the box of assorted things.

“Humans don’t have horns, and if I want to pretend to be one of them, I have to keep them filed down.” He gestured to the other chair, holding a cord with one absurdly small end. “You, sit.”

“I liked your horns.”

“Yeah, I know. Looks like you’ve made up for it, though.” Tubbo tugged playfully on the hair that fell more than past Ranboo’s shoulders. “Your hair’s long again.”

“Yeah.” Ranboo pulled some of said hair out of the way so Tubbo could fiddle with the implant. “I haven’t had time to cut it.”

Techno filed away that the strands looked thicker than human hair, which probably added to the odd structure of Ranboo’s horns. The shape was pretty normal, as far as horns went, but the texture looked strange even from a distance. Would it be weird if he went up and saw why? That would be weird, so he didn’t want to do it. But he also wanted to see how the keratin differed from, say, human fingernails, since that’s about as close to similar structures as they had. Did the other aliens have hair? Tubbo did… But he also said his species was the closest to humans in appearance. Ranboo seemed pretty similar as well, minus the horns and unnatural height. And the tail. Techno had missed that bit until it flicked out of reach of Steve, who seemed to think it was a toy. For some reason he’d also missed that Ranboo was in what looked like a sundress, with a tank top underneath. Henry was sniffing the hem if it would tell him secrets. 

Ranboo looked back at Steve, causing Tubbo to curse and climb over his folded legs so he could stay close to the implant. 

“Those don’t look like humans.”

Tubbo said something that Techno’s translator didn’t translate, and Ranboo nodded slowly.

“Are they going to eat me?”

Techno and Tubbo snorted in unison. Tubbo detached the cable, then decided to sit down directly on Ranboo's lap and loop his arms around Ranboo’s neck to stay on.

“As him,” Tubbo said, “since I’m not spending valuable brain cells on translating.”

“Okay. What are those?” Ranboo gestured vaguely to Steve and Henry.

“Dogs. Pets.” Techno sighed when Ranboo just blinked. “They won’t hurt you.”

“Okay! Then why are they doing that?”

“They’re not used to aliens.”

Tubbo looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh, leaning into Ranboo.

“This is nice, and all, but don’t we need to go?”

“Yeah,” Ranboo said, not moving at all. 

Techno scooped up his duffel and stood.

“Well, I think you’ll have time to do… whatever… later. We need to find Tommy, and I’m not walking eight dogs by myself.”

Tubbo huffed, mumbled something to Ranboo that Techno purposefully didn’t listen to, and stood as well to help collect the dogs. 

Ranboo was surprisingly chatty while they walked to where the ship was hidden. It seemed he had a lot of questions about things Techno didn’t know how to explain, but when he asked about something Techno did know, he eagerly nodded along to the resulting infodump and took notes. 

“By the way,” Techno asked, mid-ramble about cultural differences based on geographical location, “What’s your job? Tubbo said you worked on the ship.”

“He did? It’s an internship on cross-species relations, so I was assigned to a ship that had a mixed crew. Technically I don’t get paid.” Ranboo made a sound that must’ve been nervousness. “But Phil says that next year I can get an actual job on the ship, doing basically the same thing.”

“Who’s Phil?”

“Phil - Philza. He’s the captain.” Ranboo scanned the dark surroundings, then subtly changed directions. “We’re almost there.”

The closer they got, the more Techno felt like something was watching them. He stuffed down the urge to glance around whenever he heard the rustle of Something in the trees, the scrape of Something against wood. Tubbo and Ranboo didn’t seem to notice, but Techno was struggling to keep calm when every fish instinct in his brain was telling him to straight-up run because whatever it was watching them, it wasn’t harmless. After a minute, though, Tubbo tilted his head and stopped walking. 

“Do you hear that?”

Ranboo stopped too, looking around. Then he rolled his eyes.

“It’s just Phil. Come out, we know you’re there.” There was a rustle. “Yes, I’m serious. Come out, you’re scaring our new friend.”

“I’m not scared,” Techno protested, but jumped as someone landed next to him.

“Hello! I’m Captain Philza!” The captain smiled cheerfully, showing teeth that were too pointy to be a humans. Of course, he also had feathers, and wings that curled up behind his head, so there wasn’t much similarity anyways. “You are?”

“Phil, cool your jets. You won’t be able to understand him.” Tubbo snapped his fingers, waving Philza closer. “I’ve got the add-on, just give me a few seconds.”

Techno began to think this would get tiring pretty fast as he waited, then brought back his attention as Philza cleared his throat.

“Let’s try this again. What’s your name?”

“Techno.” Philza was taller than Tubbo, but… not by much. “I’m looking for my little brother, Tommy.”

Philza nodded slowly.

“Yes, I heard. I’ll help as much as possible, but I don’t know if you’ll see him again.”

“I will.” Techno clutched the bundle of leashes tighter. The dogs seemed to think it was time to sleep now, in the middle of the woods. 

“You sound very sure. Well, let’s go back to the ship before we all get caught by the government.” Captain Philza turned and began to walk in a specific direction, nearly whacking Techno in the face with a wing. “Do you have any leads?”

“Yep- dreamons. Working for XD, mostly likely, since he’s the only one who smuggles stuff off Earth.”

“Ugh. Dreamons.” The captain hopped over a large rock with a flutter of wings. “We’ll have to go through border logs to figure out the ship register. Wilbur’s going to have a field day with that.”

Techno ducked a low-hanging branch. 

“How would they be allowed to come to earth?”

“Bribes, mostly. Or falsifying origin records. Depends on the purpose. Weapons smugglers will do bribes, livestock smugglers will go for forgery.” 

“My brother’s not livestock.”

“Eh- yes. Sorry. Not what I said - I meant live organism smugglers. Set translators don’t do as well from a distance.” Philza scanned the trees, then seemed to find something and waved his hand through empty space. The ends of his fingers, tipped by dull claws, vanished into the air. “There she is.”

“Huh,” Tubbo remarked, one arm looped through Ranboo’s. “Pretty good temporary camouflage.”

“Well, you’ve been gone for two years, mate. Things have changed.”

Tubbo glanced over to Ranboo, seeming wistful in the faint light. 

“Yeah. They have.” 

Philza held one of his hands out, and a series of metal squares snapped to a cube resting in his palm. Techno was more distracted by the spaceship that had appeared out of nowhere, resting in the grass.

“Are those new engines?” Tubbo asked curiously. 

“Hover, so we don’t need a landing strip anymore.” 

The ship towered over Techno by a considerable amount. It was probably taller than a passenger jet, albeit shorter and with an alien script scrawled on one side, under what looked like tinted windows near the front.

“Plexiglass?” Techno asked, gesturing to said window.

“I don’t know what that is,” Philza said with a grin. “The windows are carbon sheets. Withstands atmospheric entry better.”

“Come on. It looks like rain.” Ranboo began to climb a series of metal rings set into the side of the ship, Tubbo close behind after passing the dog leashes to Techno. 

Techno hesitated until he saw a hatch open in the side of the ship, on what must’ve been the second floor. Then he frowned. 

“What about the dogs?” He called up to the opening. Tubbo leaned back out. “They can’t climb ladders.”

“They can’t?”

“It’s kind of hard without opposable thumbs.”

“They don’t have thumbs? Sad.” Tubbo leaned back in, probably calling to someone inside. “Can you open the cargo door?”

There was a deep rumble, and Techno stepped back to see a section on the end of the ship open into a ramp. 

Tubbo stuck his head out again.

“There’s a spiral staircase at the end of the hold,” he explained. “Dogs can climb stairs, right?”

Techno smirked up at him.

“Yes, dogs climb stairs.”

The inside of the cargo hold was empty, but there were plenty of nets and cords on the walls and floor that indicated it wasn’t unused to being full.

The dogs raced up the stairs, turning into a veritable pack as they tore loose from Techno’s grasp.

Techno tried to rub feeling back into his hands, but he looked up when he heard a startled sound. There was an alien standing in the room, but she - it must’ve been Niki, since she had scaly limbs and a finned tail - was perched on a chair in one corner, probably due to Henry and Floof sniffing at her webbed feet.

“Phil? There’s something on the ship.” She looked around at the dogs, hair waving about frantically. “There’s a lot of something on the ship.”

“Sorry,” Techno said, hauling himself up into the floor. “They’re mine. They won’t hurt you.”

Niki’s eyes widened, and she leaned back. Techno suddenly remembered that she couldn’t understand him.

“Phil? There’s a human on the ship.”

“Calm down, Niki.” Philza swung in, herding Empire back into the room with his wings. The feathers looked red on the underside, so the general silhouette seemed heart-shaped. “This is the human who’s looking for his brother, and these are his pets.”

“Come here so you’ll be able to understand him,” Tubbo said from behind Philza. Techno looked around, scanning the room. It was mostly chairs and a couple of low tables nearby, but at one end of the room there was what looked like a kitchen with a table and more chairs. “Where’s Wilbur?” Tubbo asked after a moment, sounding curious.

“In the bridge,” Niki said, nodding to the hall where Tubbo had shown up. “He’s making sure no one comes too close to the ship.”

“That failed,” Tubbo said in a wonderful show of snark. “We got all the way inside.”

“To be fair,” Philza said to join the conversation, “the reason I came out was because the sensors picked up a human moving nearby.”

Techno collected the dogs, dragging one of the chairs over so it blocked the hallway and uncoupling all eight leashes (he also rescued Shroud from the duffel pocket).

“What’s he doing?”

“I don’t want them making trouble,” Techno explained. “And back home they have a baby gate to keep them from getting into mischief.” Bear decided to check if his face was edible and he pushed her head away. “That’s gross, beastie, I already fed you.”

“I can understand you.”

“Good,” Tubbo said, and flopped down onto Ranboo, who was lounging on the nearest couch. “That’s my quota for the day. Wilbur can get his in the morning.”

“You’ll have to get used to galactic time,” Ranboo teased gently, poking Tubbo’s face. “I’ve only been up the past six hours.”

“Oh, great,” Niki said affectionately, “you two are being gross again. It’s just like old times.”

“So gross,” Tubbo mumbled, “like a stick in the mud.”

“Who’s the stick?” 

“Obviously me. I’m laying on you, remember?”

“Sure.” Ranboo stood upright, but he hefted Tubbo up with him, draped over a shoulder. “I’m taking this sleepy spy to bed. Time lag is no joke.” Before he left, he paused and looked to Techno. “We have a spare cabin, so you can put your stuff down there.”

Techno picked his way over the chair and followed Ranboo into the hall, which was lined with doors. Unfamiliar letters scrawled along the surface of the doors, and Ranboo seemed to read them as he passed. Tubbo had his chin propped on an elbow digging into Ranboo’s back, a rather silly-looking grin on his face. Techno supposed that was love, though he’d never felt that particular brand of affection towards anyone.

Ranboo stopped at a specific door, opening it and waving one hand at the door to the left.

“Right, you’ll be next door. Are you tired?”

“Maybe. Bye, Tubbo.”

“See you, big man.” Tubbo waved idly as the door shut. Techno let himself into the next door, stepping over the occasional box on the floor. He set his bag down on one of the boxes and flopped down on top of the bed. It was warm in the room -which was small but not overly so- so Techno didn’t need to wrap up in the blankets as he let his mind wander and run away from everything, into the comforting blackness of sleep.

Chapter Text

Techno found it difficult to adjust to the schedule on board, though maybe that was just because his rhythm was violently off from everyone else’s. He staggered into the main room and found everyone else already up, though Tubbo seemed half-asleep and listing into Ranboo’s side.

This time there was another avian sitting at the table, fiddling with something in his hands. His hair (it wasn’t really hair though, was it?) was shorter than Philza’s, brown and curly. The feathers on the sides of his face and wings were the same color of brown, but sprinkled with the yellow covering his wings. He looked up, and blinked.

“Is that the human you were talking about, Tubs? The one who brought the dogs on board?”

“Yep,” Tubbo mumbled, sipping a drink that looked uncomfortably blue. “Looking for his brother, and stuff.” 

“Didn’t you say I needed the English translator?” Wilbur asked. “Why don’t you do that?”

Tubbo huffed, bumping his head into Ranboo’s side.

“Too tired,” he said, eyes closing as Ranboo patted his head.

“Yes, poor thing,” Ranboo joked. “Finish your drink and help.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

A noise that sounded vaguely like a purr, and “you’re the only one who knows translation technology.” 

Tubbo huffed again.

“You’re rude.”

“Just do it, Bo.” Ranboo raised his voice as Techno began looking through the cupboards. “The food should be human-safe, but Tubbo said you might have to use the printer to make more protein options.”

“Printer?” 

“Organic 3-D printer,” Tubbo said absently. “Can work with plant or animal cells, and you can program whatever structure you need since it blueprints off a library of every known edible plant and animal, Earth included.”

“Oh.” Techno regarded what must’ve been the printer with slight suspicion, then looked back. “Have the dogs been fed?”

“Uh, no. We put them in the hall so they wouldn’t be underfoot, and they keep scratching at the chair and whining.”

Techno sighed. Right. Dogs in space. 

“Let me take care of them first. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Downstairs, end of the cargo hold.”

Techno grabbed the bundle of leashes from off the counter and went to take care of the dog’s business.

When he was back, Tubbo seemed more awake, and was fiddling with Wilbur’s implant. 

Techno passed that and went to the printer, mass-producing slices for chicken for the dogs. Shroud, in the pocket of his leather jacket, eagerly snapped some up and growled at Philza when he passed by.

“Oh, what’s that?” The avian blinked, nibbling on something that looked like a disk of seeds. 

“Shroud. He’s another dog.” 

Philza blinked, catlike pupils widening as he watched Shroud.

“He’s so small. Your other dogs are bigger.”

“Yeah.” Techno set Shroud on the counter, since Philza’s stoop looked uncomfortable. “He’s a teacup chihuahua.”

Philza hesitated, then cocked his head.

“Teacup? He’s a cup?”

“No.” Techno sighed, adding another piece of chicken to the bowl. “Basically, teacup dogs are meant to be smaller, small enough to fit in a cup when they’re young. Sometimes they’re just bred that way, but Shroud here was starved so he wouldn’t grow normally.” 

Shroud here was sniffing Philza’s hand, but the avian seemed stiff.

“Seems cruel.”

“It is. He’s a rescue, though. I didn’t do it to him.” Techno grabbed two of the bowls he’d prepared, then walked over to the hall so he could begin the long, torturous ordeal of feeding all of the dogs.

When he finally sat down, picking at a bowl of what looked like oatmeal but was an odd green-yellow color, he absently tugged on the collar around his neck. It felt uncomfortably warm. 

“What’s our first move?” Philza asked, sitting down at the table and stretching his wings out so he nearly whacked Niki in the face. “Oof, I’m sore.”

“Of course you are, you haven’t flown regularly since I was fifteen.” Wilbur made a haughty hissing sound. “Our first move is tracking down what ships went to Earth last night. Tubbo, could you pinpoint which one might be a Dreamon crew in disguise?”

“Sure, just pull up the checkpoint records for me to look at when I feel more awake.”

Techno reached around Ranboo to bop Tubbo with his spoon.

“Tommy’s not waiting until you’re more awake. Check now.”

Tubbo sighed, probably accompanied by an eye roll Techno didn’t see. 

“Fine. Time waits for no one, after all.” Tubbo gestured at Wilbur. “Sarcasm retinas the records.”

Techno blinked.

“What?”

Tubbo sighed again, dramatically flopping on the table.

“Never mind the checkpoint records for now - our real first step is getting you an implant. That thing around your neck doesn’t translate slang, linguistic drift, or sarcasm.”

“Or words that aren’t spoken clearly and precisely according to the translation software,” Ranboo noted. “Which rules out isolated local accents.”

The metal-plastic-stuff warmed up even further, and this time Techbo couldn’t contain a wince.

“Big man? You alright?”

“Is this supposed to be getting so hot?” Techno asked, and Tubbo frowned, more visible as Ranboo leaned back.

“No. Let me see it really quick.”

It was rather unnerving, sitting at a table and able to understand no one but Tubbo. But it did provide an opportunity to hear what the other languages were like. The avians sounded harsh and at the same time melodic, Ranboo sounded low and oddly screechy/hummy, and Niki sounded a bit like a dolphin, with similar clicks and whistles. 

“I found the problem,” Tubbo said after a few minutes of close examination. “This set is a piece of ancient garbage.”

Ranboo made a noise, and Tubbo shook his head distastefully.

“No, older. Here’s the gist- these things were meant to be temporary solutions. They’re designed for people who don’t usually have to speak anything other than their native language, and they don’t want to get an implant. So it’s not meant to be used continuously for long periods of time, otherwise it’ll overheat. Plus it runs down the batteries.”

“It runs on batteries?” Techno asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep. The implants store energy from a brain’s nerve signals, so it can run practically forever as long as your brain is still working. The sets, again, don’t need to work continuously, so at the rate we’re going you’ll have to change the batteries every galactic week or so.”

Techno sighed.

“How long is a galactic week?”

“In human terms?” Tubbo paused, then absently muttered in his own language as he counted. “About every ten earth days, I believe.”

“That’s long.”

“Hey, it’s the average of everyone else’s week. Believe me, on the satyr planet, the week is only five days, so you’ve dodged a bullet.”

“On your planet?”

“Well, it’s not exactly my planet. I haven’t been there since I was young. Mostly I lived in an avian colony near Earth, so I can speak avian pretty well.” Tubbo handed the collar back. “Here you go, but it’ll take a couple minutes to cool down again.”

“Great,” Techno deadpanned. “It means I don’t have to talk to anyone.”

Tubbo snickered, and Ranboo made a low trilling noise that might’ve been a laugh.

Philza said something completely unintelligible and Tubbo nodded thoughtfully.

“Alright, our next stop is Niki’s planet- AllesWasser. We’re picking up an export cargo there, and we can ask around and follow up on leads. Do you remember anything about seeing the dreamons? Any distinguishing features?”

“Uh…” Techno thought back. “Small eyes, creepy mouth, lots of legs. Weird fingers.”

“Big man, that’s all dreamons.”

“The one I didn’t shoot wore green,” Techno said hesitantly. “But that’s not much to go off of, is-”

“Oh, no, that’s actually relevant.” Tubbo tapped his fingers against the table. “Only high-ranking dreamons are allowed to wear green. It’s a pretty expensive dye on their planet - not a lot of vegetation, and none of it green. It’ll be a specific class of ship that holds a green.”

Philza nodded, as if this was familiar to him. He said something to Wilbur, who looked thoughtful. Tubbo translated as the younger avian began to speak.

“There’s a lot of security surrounding the dreamon territory,” Wilbur explained through Tubbo. “The military keeps tabs on any individuals inside that count as a threat, which includes the greens. No one becomes a green without shedding a lot of blood, at least while working for a warlord. If any greens are off the planet, we can narrow down who and where they are and find the littler human.”

Techno blinked.

“Little?”

Tubbo winced. 

“Sorry, uh, avians live a lot longer than humans. You and Tommy don’t even count as adults to them, and you’re younger than Wilbur, which basically makes Tommy a baby. Before you ask, Wilbur’s not an adult. Avians are adults when they turn thirty.”

That sounded scary when put up against the average human life expectancy of eighty years.

“So then how old is Philza?”

Tubbo grinned.

“He doesn’t know exactly, but we peg him at around ninety years old. You wouldn’t believe it, but he’s late middle-aged for avians.”

“Oh, so he’s older than dirt and they still let him run a ship?”

Philza let out a sharp caw of laughter and said something to Tubbo, who grinned even wider.

“He says his neighbors think he’s strange for not spending more time raising his kid at home.”

More time? Techno was on a ship being run by a geriatric and people thought Philza needed to settle down? Techno suspiciously regarded the avian, who did not look like he was verging on being a century old. 

Tubbo leaned closer, probably enjoying how weirded out Techno was.

“You think that’s strange? I was babysat by an avian nearly as old as the US of A. She was sharp as a tack and had a whole pack of grandchildren.” Tubbo shrugged. “You get used to the different physiologies and lifestyles of the other species. It can be fun, sometimes. Like going to an avian flighting celebration, and then getting to do a rainy season welcome. It gives you more opportunities to party.” Ranboo smacked his arm and Tubbo snickered. “Alright, Boo, I’ll leave off. But it’s still fun.”

*****

Tommy only realized something was wrong when he noticed the sharp, stabbing pain behind his ear. He shifted, to either startle off the insect or let Techno know he was awake, but the pain only continued. 

Also, this was not his room. The surface beneath him was too squishy. And fuzzy, it was also fuzzy. Was he on the couch? Tommy struggled to remember what he’d been doing before he’d fallen asleep. He’d gone to his room, started eating, but he’d gotten so, so tired.

“Are you sure you measured the correct amount?”

“Um… I think so. I was only estimating body mass, you know.”

“Well he should be waking up around now.” Something hard prodded him in the leg. “He moved, so that should be a good sign, right?”

Tommy frantically pushed aside the rest of the fog in his mind. He’d been kidnapped? He forced himself to keep breathing the same, to stay still even as an inhuman, jagged grip encircled his wrist and lifted his arm up.

“I don’t think humans are designed to stay still for long periods of time.” This was the third voice so far. None of the voices sounded…. Normal. There was always the barest hint of something else lurking behind the words. “It messes up their circulation.” 

“You mess up my circulation.”

“I will be messing up your circulation if you don’t move.”

“Both of you, quiet.”

Tommy tried to stay still even as his skin crawled. Something was tracing over his face, resting lightly on his eyelids.

“His eyes have stopped moving. I know you’re awake, little human. Why don’t you join the conversation?”

Tommy reluctantly cracked one eye open, then promptly slammed it shut even though the image of the three voices was now branded in his mind.

The closest voice, the one that had been in his face, was a pearly insectine creature, with oddly smooth skin and lots and lots of legs. There was a similar, smaller thing to the side, but it was wearing blue instead of green. The thing in the middle looked the most humanoid, with shaggy black hair and dark eyes, but the horns jutting out of its head above ears that twitched mostly ruined the effect.

“Don’t be like that,” the voice said. “We won’t hurt you.”

“Yet,” the middle voice snickered, then yelped. “Hey! I won’t do anything. XD would string my fingers on a necklace if I hurt him.”

“Where am I?” Tommy blurted out. “What are you?”

“We’ll answer your questions if you open your eyes,” the first voice said.

“Aw, Dream, can you blame him for not wanting to look at your ugly mug?” The third voice asked with what was probably sarcasm. “But seriously, grub, open your eyes. You’ll have to get used to us sooner or later.”

Tommy hesitantly did so. This time he took in more details - the shimmery thread at the ends of the green sleeves, the way the insects (that was what he was going to call them) had two fingers on each of their four arms, the short tail that swished behind the middle voice.

“Now will you answer my questions?” Tommy asked, hoping his voice didn’t shake. He knew how to hide his fear, how to hide whatever he was feeling behind a blank mask, though it took a while to remember that part of him. 

“Sure. You’re in deep space, just outside the Sel et Larmes solar system. Destination: Centro Verde. I’m Dream, the leader of this mission, and these are my two…”

“Cronies,” The middle one piped up and was thwacked by one of Dream’s arms. “Suns, I was joking. I’m Sapnap.”

“George,” the blue insect said. 

“We had another crew member, Punz, but he went down on earth.” Dream clicked his fingers together, an actually audible noise since the weird exoskeleton seemed to extend to there. “Some human fired a ballistics weapon at him and he collapsed.”

“Some-” Tommy jumped up, finding he was around the same height as Sapnap, taller than George, and shorter than Dream. “My brother! Did you take him too?”

“Uh, no.” Dream shuffled slightly, legs tapping against the floor. “We only needed one human, and he looked…. Uncooperative.”

“Human? Like you’re not? No, you’re like aliens or something.”

“Correct,” Dream said. “Me and George are dreamons, Sapnap’s a-” a high, sharp sound, and Tommy blinked.

“What?” 

“It must not translate. Well, he’s not a dreamon. That’s all.”

“Why did you even need a human?” Tommy ran his hands through his hair, pausing and exploring something that seemed stuck to his scalp behind one ear. His hair had been shaved in a circle around the thing, and when he pressed on the lump, it set a spike of pain through his skull. “What did you put on me?”

“Don’t mess with that,” George said sharply. “It’s your translator implant. You’ll need to leave it alone while the bone heals.”

“Wh- YOU PUT A HOLE IN MY SKULL???” 

“What, like it matters? You needed a translator, since I doubt Little Green would be too happy if you didn’t understand her inane whims.”

“Who is that?”

Sapnap muffled a sound that was probably a laugh.

“Uh, someone Dream doesn’t like. Her name's Drista, and she’s very important.”

“Okay,” Tommy frowned. “and why does she want me?”

Sapnap shrugged.

“No clue. She’s the younger sister of our commander, and very used to getting what she wants. She probably just wants you for a pet or something.”

“But I’m not a pet.”

“A playmate, then. You’ll have to see when we get there.”

“Speaking of which,” George said, skittering over to a doorway, “you’ve been unconscious for a long time. Are you hungry?”

“Of course I am,” Tommy grumbled, “I didn’t even get to finish dinner.”

“Well, I’ll tell XD that everything’s going smoothly,” Dream said with a sigh. “Look, I know we technically kidnapped you, but we’re going to make sure you’re safe. You’re a human in a galaxy of non-humans, so I wouldn’t suggest running off if we let you leave the ship. George here doesn’t know everything about humans, so if there’s something you need to live and whatever, tell him.”

“I don’t know squat!’ Sapnap announced proudly. “So unless something blew up, don’t tell me about it.”

“That’s good to know.” Tommy kicked at the floor, narrowing his eyes. “Do you know where I can find something that blows up?”

Sapnap let out a bark of laughter, then waved Tommy over to where George still stood, eight legs absently shifting and sliding across the flooring. 

“Like I’d let you handle explosives. Go with George so you can eat.”

Tommy reluctantly did so, trying to avoid getting stepped on by those skittery legs as both him and George began to walk. 

“So,” he said, since the silence was driving him crazy, “are you guys like bugs, or something?”

George tipped his head to the side. He made a noise Tommy didn’t understand, then did an odd limb-ripple that might’ve been a shrug. 

“We have exoskeletons,” the alien said slowly, “And multiple support limbs.”

Tommy nodded. Good enough.

“That’s weird.”

George made a rattling sound.

“You have your skeletons inside your muscles, with nothing to protect your skin or blood vessels. Your faces and eyes move, and you have too many fingers. Maybe you’re the weird one.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated. George seemed to notice, though like he implied, his eyes didn’t move, so there was nothing to indicate where his gaze was.

“You know I’m right. This universe is bigger than one human. Thorns, even on your own planet you humans are outnumbered by billions of creatures that look like me.” George leaned closer as they walked. “You’re insignificant, Tommy. Just another leaf on the brush.”

Well that lovely comment made Tommy’s heart shiver in his chest. 

It felt like his weird muscles were made of lead when he ate whatever George handed him, then somehow ended back up on the cushion he’d woken up on, curling up to maximize body heat and trying to wake up from this nightmare.

Tommy didn’t realize how awful his breathing had got until it was whining in his ears, shuddering as he tried to cope with the fact that he was nothing. 

Worthless piece of shit.

Waste of space.

Waste of money.

Ungrateful little-

Tommy curled tighter, trying to block the echoes.

He wished Techno were here, wished his big brother would hug him close on the bed like he did when Tommy was small.

“Once there was a mighty warrior, ” Techno had said in that gruff, hoarse voice that rumbled through Tommy’s head. Tommy had been hiding under the bed. He didn’t remember why, but he remembered the bandaids on Techno’s face.

“What was his name?”

“Mmm…” Techno made a funny noise when Tommy wiggled. “Blade.”

“Sounds badass.”

Techno laughed, though there was a hitch to it that Tommy didn’t understand then.

“Oh, yeah. A real badass guy. Doesn’t need any weapons except a big sword, anime-style.”

“Is that how he got his name?”

“Sure.”

“Is it a cool sword?” Tommy was trying to form a picture in his head, to imagine this mighty warrior. 

“The coolest. Now hush while I tell.” Techno coughed slightly, breath stuttering. “The Blade was a warrior for justice. He fought, well, bad people, when they did bad things.”

Tommy didn’t remember a lot of the middle, but at some point, he ended up with his head under Techno’s chin. 

“He sounds big and strong.”

“Definitely. When you get scared at night, you can just imagine he’s there, looking after you.”

“Would he?” Tommy murmured. His memory had gotten fuzzier.

“Of course he would.”

Tommy wished he had a mighty warrior to protect him right about now.

“I’ll always look after you,” Techno had whispered, when Tommy was half-asleep.

And he had. 

Techno was the one good goddamn thing that life had given him and Tommy wished, he wished on every single star that floated around him that he could wake up to his big, nerd, hermit brother knocking on the door to make sure he’d eaten.

He didn’t realize he was crying until the fabric beneath his face got damp, salty water nearly making him sneeze when it trickled up his nose. 

Tommy wasn’t stupid, so he kept the tears silent. He definitely remembered how to do that. 

*****

Techno looked up when someone sat down across from him. It was Tubbo and Ranboo, looking extremely mismatched. 

“What do you want?” He was busy trying to clean the axe blade, rubbing the rust off with some chemical mix Niki had given him.

“Bossman, you’re a human in space. We figured we should help you learn about the different species, since we’ll be stopping on multiple planets while we look for Tommy.” Tubbo paused. “Well, Ranboo will teach you. I’m just here to translate.” 

Techno’s translator was working again, but he knew it would probably short out again so he didn’t object. 

“Are you going to explain why you two are so close?”

“Oh, that one is actually pretty easy to explain.” Ranboo propped his elbows on the table next to his chair. “Both of our species are social, obviously, but we’re less vocal than avians or mer so we both have higher degrees of nonverbal communication, and spend a lot more time making physical contact with each other.”

“The others mostly reserve contact for close friends and family and stuff like that,” Tubbo took over. “So our species are technically classified as hyperphysical-social. Humans are like that, but somewhere in between.”

Techno took a few moments to sift through that information.

“So you’re all really touchy?”

“And need regular contact to keep our hormones balanced, yes,” Ranboo said. “Trust me, the first few months I was on the ship, it was awful because I’m not close enough to either of the avians and Niki is too wet.”

“And then the next couple months we were too awkward to say anything,” Tubbo added, grinning. “So we ended up drifting together, and one thing led to another, and you get the gist. Anyway, meetings aside, you’ve kind of got a lot to learn.”

“Okay.” Techno kept scrubbing at the rust, since without something to do he would probably lose his mind. “Shoot.”

“What?”

“He means we can start,” Tubbo clarified. 

“Oh! Okay.” Ranboo clapped his hands together. Wow, his fingers were long. “So, first off are the satyrs. They were the first to begin traveling space, and are one of the smaller species.”

Tubbo huffed.

“Just compared to the others. I can take it from here, Bossman.” He cleared his throat, one ear flicking away when Ranboo poked it. “We’re bipedal, live in large family groups, and are seasonally nocturnal. Our planet cycles between a rainy season and a dry season, and around half the buildings are tunnels underground to dispel the heat of the dry season.”

“That’s when you’re nocturnal?” Techno guessed.

“That’s right. The planet’s got two suns, so the day is much longer and hotter during the dry season.” Tubbo shrugged. “So I have good night vision, but I can’t really handle uv radiation that well.”

“Explains why you’re so pale,” Techno remarked. “I mean, we live near a forest, yeah, but town is mostly in the plains.”

Tubbo laughed softly.

“Yep, I got sunburned a lot during my first couple of months on earth.”

Now Techno was the one to chuckle to himself.

“Isn’t that how you and Tommy met? He wanted to know where you were going to get such a wicked burn.”

Not that we would ever go anywhere, he thought to himself. I wasn’t going to risk that danger. But was that wrong? Has he really seen the world?

He sighed, hand slowing and resting against the axehead. He’s seen plenty of the world. I wish he hadn’t.

He couldn’t stop himself from remembering Tommy, eight years old. A red mark on the side of his face, bruises dotting his legs and wrists. Sobbing into Techno’s jacket, desperate for safety from the one person who cared about him. If Tommy was like that when Techno found him, he would personally be blowing up whoever had taken his little brother. 

Child kidnapped! 

Techno’s insides squirmed at the memory.

“Hey, Bossman? You good?”

Techno looked up.

“Hm? I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Tubbo gave him an unreadable look.

“Okay. Do you want to keep doing this? You looked a little glazed for a few minutes there.”

Techno managed an indignant huff.

“I’m not a ham. That’s my zoning-out look.”

“Yeah, well you looked like a soldier who’d lost everyone he cared about.”

Now Techno smirked bitterly.

“I have.”

Tubbo winced.

“Sorry, bad simile.” He paused, and looked thoughtful for a second. “What about your parents, though? Don’t you care about them?”

Techno stiffened. A hand, dragging him by his hair. 

“Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Muffled winces as wire whipped into flesh. 

“I’m not talking about my parents,” Techno growled. 

Tubbo’s expression flickered.

“Oh.”

“And don’t say you’re sorry for me,” Techno said before Tubbo could. “That’s something I’m leaving behind.”

“We just hope he’s safe,” the man on the television said gruffly. “We wish it hadn’t gone this far, and now all we want is our son back.”

“Okay,” Ranboo said quietly. “Next up is the avians. Theirs was the fifth planet to be discovered by the satyrs, since avians hadn’t developed long-distance space flight. In terms of appearance, they’re the second-closest to humans.”

“Speaking of which, do they have hair?”

Ranboo grinned, shaking his head.

“Nope. What you see as hair is actually a very thin feather, flat under a microscope.”

“Avian feathers are like a mixture of leaves and roots,” Tubbo said to add to the explanation, and took out a piece of paper to sketch a quick diagram. “The main ‘quill’ actually branches into five different arms, and each of those arms sprouts a row of fibers that interlock with each other and create the surface for lift.” What he’d drawn looked like a leaf with a rounded tip, and the woven strands between the ‘veins’ looked more like fabric than feathers. “What you call hair is technically considered a crest, since the feathers there are specialized. The man quill branches off randomly all the way up to the tip, and the stalks are all so small that the quill just feels fuzzy compared to hair.”

Techno sat in thoughtful silence, trying to process this. 

“We’re swamping him with science,” Tubbo said after a moment, sounding amused. “Phil! Wilbur! Come here so we can use you!”

Philza stuck his head through the doorway.

“What is it? Wil’s looking through checkpoint records.”

“We’re doing science,” Tubbo said cheerfully. “And avian feathers are weird.”

Philza sniffed but walked further in. Now Techno could see that his feet ended with disturbingly long, curled talons. The tips clicked against the floor as the avian shifted.

“I think hair is weird. I mean, your skin just shoves out dead proteins and you don’t think it’s weird at all. Plus you get split ends.”

“Whatever,” Tubbo huffed, and motioned for Techno to stand up. Techno himself paused.

“Are you good with this?”

“I’ve learned to humor Tubbo’s whims,” Philza said, head dropping forward and hair going all fluffy. The strands moved a lot more than regular feathers did, bending and swaying in the faint breeze from a nearby vent. “I take it he’s telling you about how our crests work?”

“Yeah,” Techno said, head tilting to the side in confusion. “How is it that flexible?”

“I have no idea,” Philza said cheerfully. “I’m not a scientist.”

“I think it just has to do with how thin the quills are,” Tubbo said. “And they’re not even that flexible compared to human or satyr hair. A lot of the flexibility just comes from the way the skin works.”

“Oh, right. Birds.” Techno watched as Philza's hair fluffed up again, finding where the strands came out of his skin. Bird skin was… disturbing. Was it really supposed to be that wobbly?

“I mean, feathers are a lot more convenient,” Philza was saying to Tubbo. “Ours fall out and regrow, so you don’t need to wait super long when you get a dye job.”

“Hair falls out too,” Tubbo argued. “And you can put it into different haircuts.”

“Feathers don’t need to be styled,” Philza replied. “They’re fine as long as you don’t disturb where they grew.” 

“But your feathers only get so long.”

There were a lot of feathers. Techno began to pull his hand back out, then froze as his hand snagged on a feather and yanked it out. 

“Bossman?” Tubbo looked up at him, confused. “You good?”

“I, um.” Techno held up the feather. There was no blood, luckily. “This.”

Philza scratched his head with nails that looked like smaller, duller talons, and looked up.

“Hm? Oh, thanks. That one was bothering me for a while.”

“Heh?” Techno blinked. “Didn’t it hurt?”

“Uh, no.” Philza plucked the feather out of Techno’s hands, spinning it between his fingers. “See how it looks kind of dull? This one was old, and was all ready to come out. There weren’t any nerves.”

“Oh.” Now Techno felt a little less panicked. “My hair hurts when it gets pulled out.”

“Yes, it’s those fun hair follicles. Yippee for you.” Philza absently bobbed the feather in the air. It bent a little, but mostly stayed straight.

“So your hair’s straight,” Techno said, so they wouldn’t talk about him accidentally yanking out the captain’s hair. “But Wilbur’s isn’t.”

“Neither is his mom’s,” Philza said. “It’s just one of those things, his crest happens to curl and ends up all squiggly. That’s why his hair looks shorter, the length is the same but it takes up less space when it grows.”

“You two are a pair,” Tubbo said, shaking his head. “Your hair takes forever to fall out and Wilbur’s gets tangled all the time.”

Philza smiled now, but it didn’t look very happy. More… pointy.

“Yep.” 

“Anyway.” Ranboo clapped his hands together. “We’re doing a lesson on the different species. You might as well finish the section about avians.”

“Oh! Yes, good idea.” Philza’s wings fluffed up proudly and he began to pace a short line as he talked. “Avians are the opposite of humans in that female avians are taller and have more feathers, and male avians are shorter and, well, less feathery. Plus our colors tend to be duller.”

“What purpose does that serve?” Techno asked curiously. 

In response, Philza half-turned so the back of his wings were visible. There, the colors were definitely less vibrant. Black, dark green, occasional speckles of yellow. Kind of like sunlight through leaves.

“Theoretically, if I was a prehistoric avian, it would be for camouflage,” Philza explained, shaking out his feathers to demonstrate. “If there were eggs or hatchlings, I’d spread out over them while the mother would go get food or scare something away from the nest. I’d be harder to see from above, so it would be harder for predators or rivals to come and get at the kids.”

Techno nodded. That made sense.

“And if she couldn’t do anything?”

“Then I’d cover her too,” Philza said, folding his wings back up. 

“It’s really funny,” Tubbo said, grinning. “If we scare him while he’s near someone he’ll tackle whoever he’s near and flop over them.”

“I never would’ve guessed you could hide anyone,” Techno said to Philza in a rare attempt at humor, trying to pretend that being around the avian didn’t make him uneasy. “You seem too small.”

Philza scoffed, feathers ruffling, but he looked amused at the comment.

“Child.”

“I’m an adult on my planet,” Techno noted. Philza hummed.

“We’re not on your planet.”

Techno resisted the urge to snarl, slipping free of the curiosity over feathers and wings. He was definitely exercising self control today, even though he could feel the ache of nails digging into the flesh and bones of his palms. 

“Um, Phil?” Tubbo asked, definitely seeing Techno’s prickling rage. He had gotten strangely good at identifying both Techno and Tommy’s Moods over the two years of knowing one another. “Is there anything else important?” 

“Hm? Oh, we build houses in the trees.” Philza had not picked up on Techno’s Mood. “We should visit sometime soon, it’ll be fun.”

“Phil, the walkways are all super unsafe,” Ranboo said. “Remember how Tubbo nearly fell off-”

“Not everyone can have a tail to keep them balanced,” Tubbo huffed. 

“Don’t you have a tail?” Ranboo asked, and Tehcno was startled out of the recollection of what it felt like to have cartilage crack under his fist.

“What? You’ve got a tail?”

Tubbo made a face.

“Not a long one. It’s pretty vestigial, so it’s easy to hide.” He turned and looked behind him. “And also I’m wearing human jeans right now. So you can’t really see it.”

“Oh.”

Techno was saved from further awkward conversation by the barking of Empire, who was tugging on the cuff of his pants. Techno went to get the dogs water. 

Wilbur was sitting in the kitchen, swiping through what looked like a tablet he’d propped on the table. He looked up as Techno walked by, searching the cupboards.

“Hey. What are you looking for?”

“Water,” Techno replied. 

“It’s the tap next to your elbow,” Wilbur said. “You can program it for your planet’s PH level.”

“Huh.” Techno puzzled over the tap for a second, then realized it had the same setup as a soda fountain and he pressed the button with a symbol that was probably a human. Yay, water. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

There was silence as Techno began to fill bowls. He occasionally glanced back at Wilbur, part of him looking for something. The avian seemed okay, but he was also wearing a long-sleeved sweater in some sideways shade of blue, so there was a lot that could be hidden. The idea made some part of Techno bristle.

“Why are you here?”

Wilbur looked up, and he squinted in what was probably confusion. The golden feathers on the underside of his wings rippled.

“What? I’m looking through records.”

“No, not that.” Techno carefully set down the bowls of water, stepping back so his feet wouldn’t get drenched as the dogs fought to lap the precious liquid up. “I meant on the ship. Why do you stay on the ship?”

Wilbur blinked. 

“Uh… legally speaking, I have to. Phil’s my dad, and since I’m not an adult yet, I have to stay with one of my parents on any travel craft.”

“And when you’re an adult?” Techno set down another bowl. Shroud yipped and nearly fell in before Techno pulled him back. “Then there’s nothing keeping you here.”

“Yeah, but I like traveling. Plus I don’t want to leave Phil.”

Techno gave Wilbur a long look. Wilbur blinked back at him.

“What?”

“You don’t have to stay.” 

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to stay here.” Bowl number three was set down, but Techno sat down on the floor next to it because now there was a crick in his back. “If you want to leave, you can.”

“I know that.”

Somehow Techno doubted Wilbur really knew. But he wasn’t going to fight about it right now. There would be time to figure out what was going on.

Techno simply hummed and refilled water bowls until the dogs stopped drinking, then he went to take inventory of his emergency bag. 

Chapter Text

Techno was glad to find his emergency bag was well-stocked. A small supply of food, iodine for water, bandages and antiseptic if anyone got hurt, some dog food he wasn’t going to open yet, a burner phone (that wouldn’t get service out in space ), and a few changes of clothes for both him and Tommy. Hm. That definitely wouldn’t last him long enough. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to run off to space without bothering to come up with a plan. Techno was now beginning to realize this, since it was getting hard to function with the overwhelming feelings of unease that came from being in an enclosed space with multiple strangers for a long period of time. Most of said strangers weren’t so bad, of course, but the avians…

Techno was safely sequestered in his cabin with emergency reading when he heard unholy screaming and the sounds of claws dragging on the ground, loud skittering like when the dogs would run around on the wood floors. Someone was being chased. Claws, so… Philza and Wilbur. 

“Wil! Child! Get back here!”

Oh, no. No, no thank you. Techno forced his eyes to reopen, but it felt like his muscles had turned into sheets of metal, stiff and unyielding. He couldn’t move. His heart was pounding in his head.

“Won’t!” Wilbur shouted back. “I won’t! I’m not!”

The shouting became more muffled, the words garbled by walls and closed doors, but Techno flinched in time with a sickening crack. Poor Wilbur. Wire hands in hair blood skin breaking doors slamming shouting - he took in a shaky breath, trying to force himself to calm down, but he stayed frozen and unmoving for a while longer.

He flinched again when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey, are you in there?” Wilbur. He sounded… okay. His voice was a little hoarse, probably from the shouting, but it didn’t seem broken. But then again, Techno knew how easy it could be to bleed the emotion out of his voice, to sound like everything was fine when it wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he replied gruffly, trying to blink away the stinging in his eyes. “What is it?”

“I found the ship that has your brother.”

Now Techno could move. He stood, kicking aside his boots, and opened the door.

Wilbur was standing there, and he smiled slightly. There was a purplish mark over one of his eyes, and something red had smeared on his chin. Techno’s stomach flipped. 

“Are you okay?”

Wilbur blinked, head tipping.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“I heard shouting,” Techno said, testing the water. 

“Oh, yeah. I ate some of Phil’s leftovers.” Wilbur grinned. “Well, do you want to hear about the ship?”

So Wilbur didn’t want to talk about it. That was fine. 

“Yeah,” Techno said, and followed Wilbur down the hall, far enough away that he wouldn’t bump against the avian’s wings.

“I managed to track down which greens were offplanet,” Wilbur began to explain. “Not many, but only one that had slipped detection.”

“Okay. And?”

“Erm…” Wilbur pulled out his tablet thing, clicking through. “One ship, a class 3-D passenger registered as the XDS Spirit. Was on Earth, and left a couple local hours before we arrived.”

“That checks out.” Techno couldn’t look away from the red stains. Did Wilbur’s mouth taste like copper? Were there bandages hidden under those long sleeves?

“Why are you staring at me?” Wilbur asked and half-demanded. Techno blinked. 

“I, um.” He pointed to his own face. “You’ve got, uh, something.”

Wilbur swiped through his tablet until he presumably got to a camera, then hastily scrubbed the red off.

“Well, great.” His wings fluttered. “I like this sweater, and that stain will take forever to come out.”

“You could use hydrogen peroxide,” Techno suggested slowly. “That would get it out.”

Wilbur wrinkled his nose. 

“Where would I get hydrogen peroxide?”

Techno shrugged wordlessly and let it be.

“Anyway,” Wilbur said, shaking his head, “the Spirit landed on AllesWasser to refuel, so that’s where we’ll find our next lead.”

“What’s AllesWasser?” Techno asked, curious. 

“Niki’s planet.” Wilbur swiped through his tablet more and showed the screen to Techno. The picture was of a deep blue planet encircled with clouds, and no land to be seen. “It’s only got small islands, so it won’t be too difficult to find a port.”

“We already need to stop there,” Niki noted as she walked by. “We’re picking up cargo.”

“Right,” Wilbur said with a nod. Niki didn’t comment on the bruise, which implied that this was a regular occurrence. Techno felt his shoulders tighten. “So we’ll ask around at the port, pick up cargo, and figure out where the ship lands next. Then we can try and head them off before they pass into green territory.”

Techno nodded, then winced when the sound of barking echoed off the walls. 

“How are the dogs?”

“Loud,” Wilbur deadpanned. “And they keep running around and chewing on things.”

“They don’t like being cooped up.” Techno vaulted the chair blocking the doorway and nearly landed on Empire, who was carrying around a bowl and running away from Carl. “I don’t suppose we can land somewhere so they can get all their energy out?”

“Maybe,” Wilbur said thoughtfully, wings flicking out of Bear’s reach as she inspected them curiously. “We could put them in the cargo hold…”

“You are not putting animals in the cargo hold,” Niki said, hair-tendrils waving in what was probably annoyance. “We don’t have the setup for live organisms down there.” It was interesting watching her, since there were scales all along her cheeks and they rippled when she talked. “What’s the nearest planet?”

“Hmm…” Wilbur did some more tapping on his tablet. “The closest port is on Wielka-Matka, but it’s right in the middle of the rainy season right now.”

Niki sighed.

“I bet Ranboo would love that. Anything else?”

“Yeah, a planet called Sono Stanco. Mostly colonized by satyrs, but there’s a significant avian population as well. Dunno why though, it’s mostly plains.”

“How big’s the port?”

“If we want empty space, not very big.”

“Right, I’ll go tell Phil if you send me the port number.” Niki began to walk off, tail waving behind her. “Then I’m going to my room, I was just checking the cargo and the hold is dry.”

“Caviar.”

“What?” Techno glanced to Wilbur, who looked up again.

“Hm?”

“You said ‘caviar’.”

Wilbur wrinkled his nose.

“No I didn’t. What does that even mean?”

“Fish eggs. It’s…” Techno trailed off, realizing that Niki had paused and was watching this exchange. Wait, she was a fish, wasn’t she? “...fish eggs. They’re um, you eat them.”

Niki nodded. 

“Yep. Caviar.”

“Aren’t you a fish?”

“Um, no.” Niki said something that didn’t translate, so it sounded like a double click. 

“What?”

He was saying that a lot today. 

“Oh, it didn’t translate. Well… we can go on land. Fish can’t.”

“So more like an amphibian?” Techno guessed, and Niki’s ‘ear’ fins flicked up.

“Yep!” The flick was a nod, then. “But we have scales that dry out quickly, and speaking of which, you get to tell Phil since I’m about to crust up.” Niki handed a clipboard to Wilbur, and strode off towards the sleeping hall. “Have fun.”

Huh. Techno glanced to Wilbur. 

“I can go tell Philza,” he said slowly, to give Wilbur an easy out. Wilbur looked surprised at that.

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Oh.” Wilbur blinked, then shrugged his wings. “Well, alright, go on then. He’s in the bridge, it’s at the end of the hall.”

Techno nodded and made his way down the hall to the only room he hadn’t yet seen. 

The bridge seemed smaller than depicted on traditional sci-fi shows. There were a few stations with readouts and diagrams Techno couldn’t wrap his mind around, labelled with a geometric script he couldn’t read. 

Philza was sitting at one of the stations, idly chewing on what looked like a large shard of bone as he wrote up what was probably a report. He looked up when Techno approached, and spat out the bone, where it hung from a chain around his neck.

“Oh, hello. Do you need something?”

“We need to stop on a planet nearby,” Techno said, a bit awkwardly. “Uh… Sono Stanco.”

“Hm. Why?”

Techno forced his voice to stay collected, and tried to not feel like he was in trouble. Philza’s eyes made him feel uneasy.

“The dogs need time to get their energy out. They’re not meant to be cooped up for long periods of time.”

“Oh.” Philza’s expression didn’t change, claws tapping on the surface of his desk. “I’m guessing you’ll want an uncrowded port?”

“Yeah.”

“Right, I can manage that.” Philza turned back to his report, still typing. Techno took that as a dismissal and quickly left. He didn’t see Philza look back up, a question dying on his tongue because Techno had left without a word or a goodbye.

Luckily, Techno managed to avoid more conversation since his translator overheated right after that, so when Tubbo and Ranboo came by where he sat in one of the couches, he could just say “My translator broke” and relish in not being talked to. 

Of course, when he looked up over the top of his book and saw the pair engrossed in soft conversation, Tubbo’s legs thrown over Ranboo’s and the satyr’s head on his chest, something in Techno twisted. 

He didn’t really know what it was like to feel that safe with someone, to not have any walls because there was no need for them. Sure, he was safe with Tommy, but there was always the undercurrent of responsibility. Tommy was his little brother, the one who needed to be protected, the one who didn’t need to know why Techno did the things he did. 

Sometimes Techno felt like one of those nesting dolls, layer upon layer upon layer of hurt and control until he didn’t even know where the center was, or even what was inside. And at this point, he didn’t expect to be opened up by anyone. So he stayed quiet even when he understood the others’ words again. 

“Why were you on earth?” Techno couldn’t help asking Tubbo after what could’ve been an hour or three. 

Tubbo himself frowned, shutting a cupboard as he took out a plate. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, you said you weren’t supposed to be there. And you’re Tommy’s age- not old enough to be on your own when we first met you.”

“Oh, uh…” Tubbo made a face, taking out a packet of what looked like granola and pouring it into a bowl of creamy pink liquid. “My species becomes adults when we’re sixteen. I was taking my required year abroad, for school, and I got into a bit of trouble.”

“You got framed for a crime,” Ranboo corrected.

“You got what?”

Tubbo waved a hand.

“Not important. Anyway, I couldn’t think of anywhere to lay low except Earth, since there you can only be contacted through approved and localized channels. So I got Phil to drop me off here, and you know the rest.” 

“Huh.” Techno absently traced the line of a scar that curled around his elbow. “The law is not on our side, huh?”

“What?”

“Nothing. I was joking.” Techno awkwardly cleared his throat. “Anyway. How long before we get to the planet?”

“Uhhh. Phil?” Tubbo directed his question to the avian, who had stepped in to look through the cupboard. “How long before we arrive?”

“Four hours,” Philza said, taking out one of the seedy disks and stuffing it into his mouth. “Give or take a few.”

“Uhuh. Is that galactic or avian?”

“Galactic.”

“Great.” Tubbo tilted his head to the side as he stirred his bowl. “That’s about six hours in Earth time.”

Techno opened his mouth as Philza left, then shut it again. He couldn’t help remembering the cry, the sickening sound and the bruise on WIlbur’s face.

He wasn’t sure whether or not to ask, but… Ranboo and Tubbo hadn’t been on the ship very long either. Maybe they’d noticed something.

“Something up, bossman?” Tubbo hadn’t glanced up, slurping up the pink granola with a spoon. “You went awfully quiet.”

“Do you all… Like the captain?”

“Hm? Oh, well enough. I’m used to avians and stuff, my babysitter was one and all that.”

“Right.” Techno cleared his throat. “But… Ranboo, do you think he’s a little…”

“A little what?” Ranboo blinked innocently, one elbow propped on Tubbo’s head until it was shoved off.

“Get, I’m trying to eat.”

Techno sucked in a breath through his teeth, leg bouncing like it was a doorstop a kid had flicked.

“A little… I dunno… intense?”

Don’t ask if he hits his only kid, Techno told himself.

Ranboo frowned, ears flicking.

“Uhm… No? I mean, sometimes, but… he’s got his reasons.”

Maybe Techno should’ve asked. He felt his jaw clench, and worked it nervously so it wouldn’t lock up.

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“Well, no, but…” Ranboo trailed off, eyes fluttering over Techno’s face. Whatever they saw, it made them look away. “It’s complicated. If you ask, I’m sure he’d tell you.”

Like Techno would ever do that.

“Sure.”

Ranboo, seemingly satisfied, got up to get food. Techno couldn’t help feeling on edge, and there was that weird twist of his stomach. 

“Tech-”

“What?” Techno snapped.

“Something bothering you?”

“No. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Tubbo gave him a look. Techno, skilled at reading looks after years of experience, dropped his gaze. He was fine. Sure, he felt like a dog with his hackles up, but that was good. Anger was better than complacency. Anger kept him alive. 

*****

“So,” Tommy asked, flopped over a cushion as he watched George take inventory of food storage, “what am I here for?” He absently scratched the dull ache of his implant, a little mesmerized at the way all four of the alien’s arms moved without tangling. 

“Don’t scratch your implant,” George said without stopping. Tommy huffed and dropped his hand. “Drista wants a human, that’s all.”

“So you’re taking me to your planet?” Tommy rolled over, watching George upside down. “Gonna probe me?”

“What?” George inspected a package of food, which had split and was starting to leak a grey-brown dust, and set it to the side. “No. We’re just delivering you.”

Dream stuck his head in, all eight fingers tapping together in a way Tommy interpreted as nervous. 

“Tommy, I need you in here for proof.” 

“Proof of what?” Tommy asked, heaving himself upright and wandering over.

“Poof I did my job.” Dream paused in the tapping long enough to herd Tommy into the next room, which had a screen on one wall that showed a pair of dreamons, both with structures of metal around their heads like crowns. There was a delighted sound, and the smaller dreamon pressed closer to the camera.

“You got one!”

“I sure did,” Dream said, sounding tired. “This is Tommy. He’s on the younger side, for a human, so he’ll live fairly long.”

Tommy waved.

“Hi.”

“Tommy, this is Drista, the reason you’re here in the first place. She doesn’t have the same software your implant does, so she can’t understand you.” Dream then seemed to address the other dreamon, who was much larger than Drista and with metal spikes sticking straight up from his crown. “Well, your highness?”

“You did your work, and he doesn’t look to be in bad shape.” The dreamon readjusted Drista’s crown as she skittered to the side. “Did any other humans see you?”

“Just one. Tommy lived away from the main community, so I don’t think there’ll be too big of a fuss.” Dream paused. “The other human killed Punz.”

“Unfortunate.” There was a rhythmic tap tap tap filtering through the speaker, like the dreamon was stomping on the floor. “How?”

“Earth ballistics weapon.”

“Primitive.”

“But effective.” Dream waved for Tommy to leave. “The rest of the cargo is safely aboard, and we’re set to reach you at the end of the week.” 

“Good. Your crew will be rewarded for this when you arrive back at Maior Colmeia.”

Tommy went and flopped back down on his cushion. Sapnap had reappeared, messing with a piece of mechanical equipment. A small ring of metal popped off as he worked, rolling across the floor, and Tommy promptly scooped it up, looking the ring over. Huh. Alien washer. 

“Will you give that back?” Sapnap asked, ears flicking. His hair was pushed back by a white headband, which was a terrible color to pick since the fabric was stained with grease. 

“Nope, mine now.”

“It’s just a part.”

“Alien souvenir,” Tommy corrected. “My awesome sick alien souvenir that will pull all the women. I’ll have so many wives it will be  ridiculous. I’ll be caveman Georg.” Was that the meme? He couldn’t remember. Maybe it was Greg.

“George, did my implant stop working, or is he actually saying words right now?”

“Sadly, they're actual words.”

“I am the most comedic ever,” Tommy said with an offended gasp. “How could you imply I’m annoying?”

“Are all humans like you?” George asked, getting to his feet and gathering the stored food that wasn’t good anymore.

“I’m the only one like me,” Tommy said, “you should be proud that of all the humans to kidnap, you managed to get the one and only Tommy Danger Kraken Innit.”

Sapnap looked slightly thoughtful, not intensely baffled like Tubbo had been when he heard this same line. Maybe he didn’t have a good sense of humor. Well, his loss. They were stuck on this ship with Tommy, and that was going to be their problem.

Tommy started messing with his new alien souvenir. It fit over his pinky tip, and it didn’t taste awful when it inevitably went in his mouth, as all things too small and lonely to stim with ended up. 

“George, he put the piece in his mouth,” Sapnap said, now sounding a little worried. “Won’t it have germs or something and he could get sick and die and then XD will display our skins on his wall because we killed Drista’s per?” 

“No, idiot, he can’t get sick from foreign bacteria. The grease, on the other hand, could be a problem.”

“Excuse you,” Tommy said around the washer, “I am not a pet, and I’m not stupid enough to put something crusty in my mouth. It was perfectly shiny, and there is no chance I’m eating alien germs right now.” 

“If you get three different diseases, I’m not helping you get better,” Sapnap said. 

“Sapnap!” 

“Alright, fine, I’m not asking to get killed.” Sapnap watched Tommy for a few moments. “Is that a human thing? Putting things in your mouth?”

“Human tongues have the most nerves of anywhere else in their bodies,” George said unhelpfully. “And really young humans put things in their mouths to interact with their environments.”

“I’m doing it because I can,” Tommy said, currently spinning the washer end-over-end in a process involving both sets of front teeth and his tongue. “It would be better if I had a whole bunch of them, to click together ‘n shit, but beggars can’t be choosers.” 

“Sapnap, go get more washers.”

Tommy looked up with surprise.

“Why?”

“Because you’re doing a human thing,” George said, “and none of us want you getting sick from a stray satyr disease you pick up from Sapnap’s parts.” 

“Oh.” Tommy spat the washer out and dried it on his shirt. This was a surprising show of acceptance from his kidnappers. “You’re not actually so bad, y’know, when you’re not freaking me out talking about insects.”

“You’re afraid of insects?” George asked skeptically.

“Well, no, not really, I like bugs. Moths and spiders are cool. But lots of people are bugs, spiders especially.”

“Spiders aren’t insects.”

“I know that, bitch, it’s my planet.”

“And insects outnumber you,” George said. “Why are you-”

“See, that makes ‘em sound like an army ready to take down the human race.” Tommy eagerly scooped up a handful of washers that Sapnap brought out in a small drawer, adding them to a string he had in his pockets from a dog food bag (who didn’t have one of those? Boring people, probably) and having fun with his new clickety clackety stim necklace. “Better fact! Bats make up one fourth of all mammal species. They’re cool. They’ve got thumbs, like humans, and they can fly. I wish I could fly, that would be cool.” 

“Man, same.” Sapnap got his own replacement washer and began redoing his own machine bits. 

“What are you making?” 

“A tranquilizer gun in case you get too rowdy,” Sapnap said without looking up.

Tommy froze for a second. Sapnap glanced up, then stifled a laugh.

“I’m just pulling your tail, it's a toaster oven.” 

Tommy relaxed again and leaned back, fiddling with his new necklace.

*****

“Hey, Tech, watcha doing?”  

Techno looked up from where he’d been brushing Floof. It was Tubbo standing there, shadowed by a nervous-looking Ranboo. 

“Y’know. Brushing the dog. What’s up?” 

“We’re landing soon,” Tubbo said. “So you might want to get braced.”

“Uh… why?”

“Wilbur’s learning how to land without the automatic stabilizers,” Ranboo said, staggering back as Carl jumped up on his front.

“Hey, Carl, no.” Techno also jumped up to grab Carl’s collar and drag him back down. “Bad. Don’t jump on people, I’ve told you.” 

“He has very sharp feet,” Ranboo remarked.

“Yeah, I need to cut his nails.”

“Anyway,” Tubbo interjected, though Ranboo looked very curious, “It’ll probably be rough. It’s his, what, fourth time?”

“Sixth,” Ranboo said. “But Wilbur can’t tell the difference anyway.” 

“Will the dogs be okay?” Techno picked a last stick out of Floof’s curly fur, and started brushing Steve, who sorely needed it as well. 

“Uh… They’ve got four legs. They’ll probably be fine.” Tubbo looped his arm through Techno’s and hauled him up with a surprising show of strength. “Let’s go, off to the bridge.” 

Techno scooped up Shroud, who was carrying around the stick from Floof’s fur, and took both dog and stick along to the bridge. 

Once there, Niki waved as Techno was ushered to a series of seats intended for a larger crew, Shroud wriggling in his arms. 

“Buckle up,” Tubbo said, clipping the harness of his seat around him. “Looks like we’ll be in for a rough go.” 

And lo and behold, Wilbur did look nervous. He was sitting at one of the control panels, buckled into his own seat and shadowed by Philza, who was standing but kept a grip on the seat next to Wilbur’s. Techno could guess the source of the younger avian’s anxiety. His bruise hadn’t even faded.

Philza was talking, but whatever he was saying, it was too low for Techno’s set to pick up, so all he got was a vague rasping sound. Wilbur nodded stiffly, and a moment later, the ship dropped at least a foot, resulting in Techno’s stomach leaping up to somewhere in the ceiling and several upset barks from the other room.

“Sorry!” Wilbur said, sounding a little rattled. 

“You’re good, bossman!” Tubbo called back. A glance, and Techno determined that Ranboo currently had a death grip on the satyr’s arm. Well, that looked a lot how Techno felt. 

They descended with only a few more jolts, each getting more and more anxiety-inducing as Techno braced for the floor to erupt in a mess of rock and metal as they hit the ground too hard, but soon enough there was a rattle through the whole ship and the hum constantly in Techno’s ears faded. 

“I did it!” Wilbur said proudly, unclipping himself so his wings could flare out. “And I didn’t even kill anybody!” 

Philza didn’t say anything. His wings were rustling, feathers rippling like grass in the wind. 

“You’d be great for designing roller coasters,” Techno said, making certain he avoided Philza’s gaze to address Wilbur. “It certainly felt like I was on a ride at the local fair.”

“I have no idea what a roller coaster is,” Wilbur said with a grin. “But if it has anything to do with my flying, it sounds terrible.”

Niki was the one to get things moving again.

“Well, we have to make this quick.” She checked what seemed to be a watch wrapped around one wrist. “Weather’s good too, so looks like Ranboo can come too.” 

“Good,” Ranboo said, “I’ve been freezing for a week and I need sunlight. Any clouds?”

“A few, rain is forecast for later in the day.”

“I’ll go get my umbrella, then.” Ranboo stood and began to leave as well, smoothing down hair that had puffed up as if in fear. “I’m not taking chances.” 

“What’s Ranboo’s deal?” Techno asked as he followed Tubbo to the next room, where they herded the dogs down to the cargo hold and waited for Niki to open the door.

“Hm? Deal with what?”

“Is he scared of water, or something?” 

“Oh, no.” Tubbo took the leashes he was handed and started attaching them to the dogs. “Ranboo’s species doesn’t have good protection against water damage. It’s like a sponge, direct water contact soaks all the liquid up and causes problems. Not enough salt, y’know.”

Techno had the vague thought that he’d learned something like that in school, but had no further recognition.

“Ah.” 

Tubbo grinned. 

“A little confused?”

“I mean, I don’t even know that much about how humans work, much less aliens.”

“I’m back,” Ranboo said, hooves tapping on the metal as he ran up, a curled umbrella under one long arm. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m realizing we never finished with our species lessons,” Tubbo said. “Do you want to give our friend here some info?” 

“Oh, okay.” Ranboo looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, my species comes from a continent that’s mostly desert. I’ve never actually been to my home planet, but I know my species adapted for the desert because of that. Some groups nowadays live in more temperate areas, with more rainfall, but that’s, y’know, dangerous.”

“You weren’t born on your home planet?” Techno stepped back as the cargo door began to open, a ramp that allowed an ever-growing sight of the planet beyond. It had a dark blue sky, and palm-like trees with bright blue leaves. 

“No.” Ranboo looked awkward enough that Techno didn’t ask any more questions, more distracted by five dogs yanking forward at the exact same time, startling an animal with six legs and a lot of eyes to gallop off. “They’re very… Strong.”

“Yep,” Techno said, and stepped out onto the ground of his very first alien planet.

Chapter Text

Techno wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep all the dogs from running off and getting eaten by an overgrown tree with teeth or something. Shroud, in his pocket, nearly squirmed out and broke his skull before Techno absently passed him to Ranboo, who at least had less things to worry about.

“What’s our game plan, bossman?” 

“You’re sure they’re all the same species?” Ranboo asked, blinking eyes probably bigger than Shroud’s entire head. 

“Yep,” Techno said, always the most articulate. “It’s the selective breeding. Tubbo, is there a place to go where we can make sure the dogs won’t run off and get lost?”  

“Well, yes, but I’d probably get arrested if I was seen with you.” Tubbo paused, looking thoughtful, then tapped Ranboo on the shoulder. “I need to get some stuff.” 

“Oh, alright.” Ranboo unhooked the bag at his waist and passed it to Tubbo, who gave him a grateful smile and ran off, towards the buildings visible when Techno looked back at the ship. Also visible was the rest of the crew, Niki and Wilbur approaching immediately while Philza hung back. Carl, startled and seemingly forgetting that he knew these people, tore his leash out of Techno’s hands and ran at the pair, barking madly. Niki stepped away, but Wilbur panicked and took off in a flurry of feathers, wings flipping between tan-brown and golden yellow as they beat in the air. 

Techno also panicked, shoving the other leashes into Ranboo’s hands and going to retrieve his dog. 

Carl was investigating Niki, sticking his long nose anywhere he could reach as she held completely still, as if worried she’d be eaten. 

“No,” Techno said, grabbing Carl’s collar and pulling his head away. “Bad dog. Don’t run at people.” 

Now that the animal was restrained, Wilbur landed back on the ground, looking fluffier than normal. 

“It’s very fast,” he said.

“Yep. Greyhound. Carl’s got a need for speed, but unfortunately not enough brains to keep from chasing anything he sees.” 

Carl, nonplussed, attempted to lick Techno’s face before he pushed the snout away. 

“Ew. No thank you.” He directed his next words at the aliens. “He’s harmless, really, just fast and tall, so he can be a little intimidating. He’s fine if you pet him.” 

Niki shook her head, but Wilbur knelt and laid a hand on Carl’s side, eyes widening.

“He’s bristly.” 

“He’s got short fur,” Techno explained, and laid one hand on Carl’s back to demonstrate. “It feels smoother when you follow the way the hair grows.”

Wilbur let out an affirmative sound, carefully stroking the greyhound’s side so he wouldn’t scratch Carl with his dull, thick claws. Carl wagged his tail at the double pets, nosing the avian’s face and receiving a small laugh in reply. 

Techno couldn’t see any other bruises, or suspicious scrapes, but he couldn’t see under the sleeves of Wilbur’s sweater and he knew that some things were easy to hide. 

“Would you be bristly too?” Wilbur asked, looking Techno over curiously. 

“My hair’s a lot longer than Carl’s,” Techno replied. “And it grows differently.”

After a minute, Carl got bored of the attention and lunged at a giant leaf on the ground, barely kept from getting farther by Techno’s wrist looped through his leash. 

Wilbur watched the dog systematically destroy the crunchy leaf, the wonder-curiosity-unfamiliarity in his eyes at seeing something he never had before, like a kid at the zoo watching the lions or parrots. 

Should Techno ask? He was about to, then jumped slightly when he felt a wing brush against his back.

“Sorry, mate.” It was Philza, and he sat down next to Wilbur, who gave him a smile and a wing nudge. “Waiting for Tubbo to get back?”

“He should be back soon,” Ranboo said from where he was standing with the dogs. “He went shopping.” 

Soon enough, after a few minutes, Tubbo reappeared with a few bags, each looking like they’d been woven out of corn leaves. 

“We’d get arrested if we were spotted with a human,” Tubbo explained, setting the bags down next to Techno. “So I went and got some stuff so we can hide our friend here in plain sight.”

“Uh.” Techno looked around at the different species. Ranboo, who was over six feet with massive horns and hooves. Niki, who was scaly and had a fishy tail. The avians, who had wings and feathers all over. “I don’t think I could pass as a lot of you.” 

“I know,” Tubbo said, and took out a mask that looked like some kind of animal skull. “There’s a few other options.” 

“Oh yeah, there’s another species candidate for the IA,” Philza said, nodding as Tubbo continued unpacking the bags. “That’s a pretty good replica of what their faces look like.” 

“If you were shorter you could probably pass as a satyr,” Tubbo said, “but for now you can pretend to be a piglin.” 

Techno shrugged, but put on the mask, flipped up the hood of the coat, pulled on the pale white gloves, and boom, transformed into an alien. 

“If they’re candidates,” Techno said, voice slightly muffled through the mask, “then how come I can pretend to be one?”

“Oh, the piglins made radio contact with a spacecraft in the area,” Philza said. “With humans, they’re so far away from other inhabited planets that they’ll have to develop faster long-term spacecraft in order to make contact, so in the meantime the IA is debating making contact itself.” 

Techno supposed that made sense. 

“And it means you won’t have to talk,” Ranboo said, nodding. “The translation software hasn’t been made mainstream yet, since most piglins have stayed on Nether, so you can get away with not talking to anyone.”

“Oh, hallelujah,” Techno said. “Let’s go before Ranboo’s arms are ripped off.”

Tubbo led the crew, including Techno in disguise and the dogs, to a fairly large field with a fence. There was a sign on the fence, some phrase repeated in a couple different languages that Techno couldn’t read, and he didn’t have the time to pore over them as Tubbo unlatched the fence and let the dogs run in so they could be unleashed. 

“Dog park?” Techno asked, recognizing the dogs’ reaction.

“Basically,” Tubbo said. 

Ranboo, looking a little asleep as he set down Shroud to run around as well, laid down on the ground and stretched out. Techno hoped that he wouldn’t get crushed by any of the bigger dogs. 

“I think we passed a pool,” Niki said, “I’m going to check it out.” 

“See you later,” Wilbur said, so it seemed he and Philza were staying around as well. 

Shroud barked, running around and chasing his tail, before laying down panting. Techno grabbed a bottle of water out of his pocket, pouring some into the cap for the dog to lap up. 

About that moment, Techno’s translator overheated and he had to take it off so it would burn him. That meant that he didn’t understand Tubbo who wandered by, talking to Ranboo who was still on the ground. He did sound like a goat, funnily enough. Baa baa black sheep, and all that. 

Techno sat in the field, blinking and looking up as a pair of shadows crossed his vision, and saw the two avians in the air, Phil’s red-green-black and Wilbur’s brown-gold-blue stirring up a wind that made the dogs bark as the two called to each other in their own melodic language. Techno had taken the mask off, since there wasn’t a point in keeping it on, and he could feel the air brushing against his face.

With a start, he realized he’d never been more isolated. Here he was, on a strange planet with strange people, and he understood absolutely nobody. Not Tubbo, not the avians, not the dogs. 

Techno wasn’t big on conversation, normally. Small talk made him nervous, and banalities always sounded hollow. But conversation was one thing. Communicating was another. Sure, he wasn’t great at it, but Techno knew that humans, despite Techno himself being an antisocial introverted hermit (he wished Tommy would call him that now), were creatures that needed to be connected. Communicating was how they did that. 

Techno, feeling rather like a child banished to his room, pulled his knees to his chin and let the sounds of conversation wash in and out of his ears like they were coming from far away, or maybe like he was underwater. Undeniably words, but undeniably, well, alien. He couldn’t respond anymore than he could understand English being spoken in a crowded room, or when he wasn’t paying a lot of attention.

A bit of wind brushed his face, and he blinked out of his haze. 

Philza was standing a few feet away, talons curled into the thickly-coated grasslike plants coating the ground. He asked something soft, and Techno shook his head.

“I can’t understand you,” he said roughly, and gestured at his bare throat. After a pause, Philza nodded and moved out of his vision, and he thought that was the end of it.

That was, of course, when Philza sat down a safe distance away from Techno, whose head jerked around. His skin felt prickly. 

“What are you doing?”

Phil, obviously unable to reply understandably, merely blinked. He was leaned back on his hands, wings spread out behind him and shining dappled green-gold-black in the white sunlight. 

Well, this was going nowhere. Techno looked back, pushing some loose hair back behind his ear and picking at the grass. He didn’t want to think anymore, but he didn’t especially want to not-think either. He felt underwater still, like he’d float away if he wasn’t careful. That probably wasn’t good. At home, usually there was something - someone to snap him out of it or at least crush him back into his own awareness. Now he was… alone.

Techno, angry at something but not especially sure what, started ripping up the ‘grass’. It seemed to be formed of three individual flat leaves all joined at a purplish base, so Techno began shredding the leaves from the base and braiding the stalks together. When he glanced over, still wary of Philza nearby, he could see the captain watching with what looked like curiosity. Shroud tugged on the end of the braid when it curled back down to the ground, but the leaves seemed slightly serrated under Techno’s fingertips, so weak joining points couldn’t be exploited as easily. 

Exploited. That’s what he’d been, getting too comfortable in his secure little life, not knowing that it could be so easily ripped away the moment he let his guard down, and now Tommy was-

Techno, careless in his frustration, accidentally ripped the braid apart. He threw it to the ground and wrapped his arms more tightly around himself. He was going to fall apart. His consciousness would fly into a million little pieces, like magnets all pointing in other directions, and boom, that would be the end of him. 

There was a light touch in his shoulder and he flinched, violently enough he had to put one hand out to steady himself. The touch retreated, but after a few minutes there came a wet snout nosing Techno’s hand, and he cracked one eye open to see Steve, big and white and furry, face all in Techno’s business because he was a failed emotional support dog, he knew when something was up and he wasn’t having it. As soon as Steve got close enough, he was wrapped up because if Techno couldn’t fit into his own hold the dog sure would, and Steve was fluffy and weighed him down so he could actually think. Steve, being a Big Dog and therefore not caring about anything that happened to him ever, did not protest even when Techno clutched him a little too tight. Steve only woofed, soft and low, and nosed the side of Techno’s face.

“Sorry,” Techno said, petting Steve to help his mind clear even more, and looked around through the cloud of big white fur. Tubbo was laying next to Ranboo, who by now definitely looked asleep. The other dogs were running in circles, Wilbur providing more entertainment than they’d had since a town kid sent a drone through the yard and they got to chase it. Philza was still nearby, though farther away than before, and he was studiously preening the feathers on the sides of his weirdly scaly calves, fanned out like a bird's tail. They’d do the same thing, Techno supposed, since neither of the avians had actual tails and he could see feathers providing extra lift and aerodynamics as Wilbur narrowly escaped Bear’s clutches.

What were dreamons like? Techno couldn’t help his mind straying to that line of thought, though he knew it wouldn’t yield any answers. From what he knew, they were like large arthropods, with white carapaces and eight limbs overall. They were ruled like a warlord, so did that mean the species was brutal? Quick to anger and fight? 

Techno knew Tommy couldn’t survive that. Not on his own. He was the fragile sunbeam in the murk of a dusty attic, cluttered with junk and broken things, and that made him all too easy to smother. 

Steve nosed at his face again, and Techno forced himself to relax, since it felt like his jaw was about to crack. He worked it, and realized that it was stiff from being clenched. Probably not good.

Philza was talking. Quietly, and even though Techno couldn’t understand the specific meaning, the tone felt like it was meant to soothe. To comfort. The words themselves sounded like a song in a language Techno didn’t know. Just barely eluding his grasp. But he couldn’t find it in himself to be frustrated. The captain, with all the skill and bounty of a nightingale, had gotten his hackles down. That, though, made him prickly again, and he studiously looked away, letting the sounds of talking go back underwater in his ears. He’d stop thinking rather than stop feeling.

“He’s not listening to me,” Phil remarked aloud, and Tubbo, who was stretching his legs out, snorted and waved to the translator set near the human’s legs.

“Well, duh.”

“No, I know he can’t understand me, but I know he can very well hear me.” Philza glanced back to the human, whose face was pressed back in his pet’s thick white fur. “Now I think he’s refusing to do even that. I don’t suppose he’s angry at me?” 

“What, angry? Eh. Maybe. But it’s nothing you’ve done. He’s just… like that.” 

“Human thing?”

“Not really. Tommy’s mostly cheerful, and most humans are friendly enough. It’s just a him thing.” Tubbo paused, then looked up. “What kind of stuff are you saying?”

“Not important stuff. Just things. Words. Stories, recipes, what happened when Wilbur stole my leftovers.” Philza laughed then, remembering the incident. “I only caught him when he slipped and flew into the doorframe. He was alright, luckily, just a small bruise and that’s pretty much healed now.” 

Tubbo chuckled softly, scratching the hair around his horns. 

“He screamed enough you'd think he was being murdered.”

What were they talking about? Techno glanced up enough to see Tubbo laugh at whatever Phil had said. Then he looked back down. Water. Rushing water.

This time, he did so good at pretending he heard nothing that he fell asleep against Steve’s side, skin warmed by sun and fur. 

When he woke back up, it was to Carl and Bear both licking his face.

“Oh, ugh, quit,” Techno said, sitting back up and pushing both of the snouts away. “If you’re not running around, then it’s time to go back to the ship. Tubbo?”

“Here, big man.” Tubbo was petting Empire and Apollo with both hands, arm looped through Ranboo’s (who was awake and buried under Max and Steve). “I have your translator so the dogs wouldn’t take it.”

“Thanks. Do they have you trapped?”

“Oh, no doubt.”

Techno shook his head but snapped his fingers, calling all four of the dogs over so Tubbo and Ranboo could stand up.

“Where’s Shroud?” Techno buckled the translator on when Tubbo handed it over.

“Uh… no idea, actually.” Tubbo looked around, slightly baffled-looking.

“Oh, I have him.”

Techno jumped because how did Philza sneak up on him and how long had he been there???

The avian, perhaps being able to smell fear, looked up at the human and grinned with his way-to-pointy teeth, offering the miniature chihuahua cupped in both hands. 

“He was wandering off.” 

“Uh.” Techno wasn’t sure how to process that. He just took Shroud and slipped him into a pocket. “Thanks.” 

“No problem, mate!” Philza grinned wider and walked off to where Wilbur was standing in the field, watching Henry roll around in the grass. “Wil! Child! Come here, and bring the pet!”

Wilbur shouted something inaudible, then picked Henry - who wasn’t exactly a toy dog - up and started carrying him back over. 

Well. At least Henry wasn’t struggling. He had sharp claws when he put his mind to it, and Wilbur didn’t look especially careful about the whole thing. 

Luckily, they got back to the ship with no one getting hurt. Niki met them along the way, with no explanations about where she’d been, but Techno didn’t especially care. It was her business.

*****

“Hey, kid! We’re landing!”

Tommy, too lazy to heave himself off the beanbag, rolled onto the floor and then got up that way, enjoying the clickety click of his alien souvenir necklace. Wandering through the ship, which wasn’t even that big, he found the rest of the crew gathered at what was probably the door. 

“Normally we’d just leave you here,” Dream said, “But I read somewhere that humans need a lot of space to move about and I don’t think it’d be helpful.” He fiddled with something, then passed it to Sapnap. 

“We’ve got you a leash,” The other alien said brightly, and there was another click as a bracelet went around his wrist. 

“I’m not your fucking dog,” Tommy snapped. 

“Not that kind.” Sapnap raised a bracelet similar to the one he had on. “You won’t be able to go very far away, but it's not like we’ll be connected.”

“And what if I don’t want to?” Tommy folded his arms. 

“Then you can stay on the ship while we refuel, and stay on the ship all the way until we get you to Drista. That’s several more days.”

Several more days without seeing the sun. Yeah, that didn’t sound good. Tommy had already been on the ship for a few days, and he’d begun to feel all tingly in his hands and feet. 

Tommy fumed, allowing himself to be shackled. When the door opened, though and the sun beamed down on his face, it was all worth it. He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, soaking in that sweet sweet vitamin D. 

“Yeah, it’s the sun, yippee.” There was a grip on his elbow, and one of the dreamons tugged him outside. 

Tommy actually opened his eyes after that, since he didn’t want to trip and die, and found that this planet was very calm looking. The ship had landed on a sandy beach, green waves lapping against the shore. 

“What is this place?” 

“This, kid, is AllesWasser.” Sapnap clapped him on the shoulder, tail swinging back and forth as he walked. “C’mon, fueling will take a while.” 

Tommy wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to see an alien planet. He ran after Sapnap, wincing as his bare feet sank into burning sand. The sun seemed brighter than on earth, the air warmer. 

Looking up ahead, Tommy could see tall, tubelike plants in a cluster up ahead, low buildings congregated beneath the shadow of leaves that were long and rounded, a little like yucca. The people, too, were… fascinating. Scaly and finned, with webbed feet and long tails that swayed as they walked. Tommy stepped back as a pair of children ran by, grey hair flying as they laughed. 

“Oof, I’m starving,” Sapnap said, scanning the buildings. “The food should be human-safe, minus some of the vegetation. Do you want to come?”

Tommy shrugged. 

“I could eat.” 

The sand continued to burn, but it was more bearable once Tommy got beneath the ‘trees’, walking down a path that was only distinguished by an outline of colorful rocks. There were more aliens in the village or town, whatever it was, working and laughing and simply existing. The people had scales that seemed to be any variation of green-blue-grey, but hair was only grey or pink. They seemed ungainly on land, the smallest children stumbling and the adults looking slightly more sure of their gait. 

They also all stared at Tommy when they saw him. The littlest aliens, with their big eyes and oversized feet, did so unapologetically. The adults, weaving or descaling weird fish or gardening in patches of green, were more secretive about it and glanced up at intervals. 

“What’s their deal?” Tommy hissed to Sapnap, who was also being stared at. 

“We’re cool,” Sapnap said with a hint of smugness. “You’re a human, and my species usually stays on-planet. We’re-” At that he made jazz hands around his face. “Special.” 

“Oh.” Tommy looked around, and noticed that, yeah, the look in people’s eyes was curiosity. “Okay.” 

The building Sapnap led Tommy to was cut into the ground, where the sand became stone and the air felt cooler. There were a few tables and benches scattered around, cluttered with the occasional fish-alien and a couple that didn’t look like any of the species Tommy had seen yet, with wings and feathers or curling horns. Those watched Tommy with something more suspiciously, seeing the pair together. 

Sapnap didn’t seem to notice. He flopped down at the bench farthest away from anyone else,  claws tapping on the table. Tommy sat next to him, both because it made him feel less prickly and because he could feel the tug on his wrist when Sapnap got farther away.

“Could we get some food?” Sapnap asked when one of the fish people appeared at the table. 

Tommy continued to look around as the two aliens talked, watching the sun gleam on twists of metal and shells hanging from the ceiling. It cast bits of light everywhere, rippling like the sun in a swimming pool. Strange. Tommy hadn’t been swimming in a while. He’d been too young to go without Techno, and before….

Tommy frowned. Before? Before Techno? How could there be a before?

He was startled out of his thoughts by Sapnap nudging his arm, which made him flinch. 

“Sorry. Food’s here.”

The food was some fish, flesh a pale blue-green color and tail split oddly into three sections. Tommy poked at it suspiciously - there weren’t any forks, but the fish people had claws  which probably meant they weren’t important - then gave up and tried some of the crumbling meat. Raw fish - if it was raw - probably wouldn’t kill him. 

It was… surprisingly good. Salty, but tasting somewhat like pineapple. Weird, but not half-bad. Tommy found it was also easier to not eat the bones when he could feel them first, tiny slivers between his fingertips that he picked out and set down on the plate. Beside the fish, there were also some slices of… tuber. Some kind of tuber. Crunchy and mildly sweet, and more than making up for the saltiness of the fish. 

“Nothing taste wrong?” Sapnap said, picking a fish bone out of his sharp teeth. Tommy, gnawing on the tuber and occasionally sipping on water, shook his head. “Good.”

Once they were both done, Tommy licking the fish juice off his fingers, the pair went to the beach. Sapnap stayed a safe distance away from the waves, but Tommy couldn’t resist and braved the burning sand to stand at the very edge of the sea, water lapping around his ankles when he rolled up his pants so they wouldn’t get wet. 

There he stood, staring out at the horizon. It was so empty. Going on forever and ever, except for a smudge at one edge. There he pointed, and turned back to Sapnap.

“What’s that?”

Sapnap looked where Tommy was pointing, ears pricked up. 

“An island. The entire planet is just islands, and the mer live mostly underwater anyway. They’re amphibious so they don’t really care.” 

Tommy nodded, and kicked at the wet sand as he wandered back and forth across the shoreline. He’d get far enough away that the bracelet on his wrist would jerk painfully, then he’d turn and head the other way. Rinse and repeat. 

Tommy had never seen the ocean. It seemed fitting that the first time he did, it was an alien sea on an alien planet. And he was alone. 

Tommy waded further out into the ocean, hiking his jeans up until the water lapped at his knees, sand and seaweed whipping against his skin as the waves crashed in his ears. Shapes darted in the sky, in the swirling clouds. Birds? 

We all came from the sea, Tommy thought somewhat vaguely. But this is my ocean’s sister, and she doesn’t know me.

The waves picked up in strength, slamming against his bones and he swayed, the sand trying its hardest to keep him. 

Has Techno ever seen the ocean?

The next wave bowled Tommy over and he was rudely startled out of his musing, spluttering and drenched in the briny water as he hauled himself out of the water, now feeling twice as heavy with his clothes slurping uncomfortably against his skin. 

“Oh, oh suns, oh suns, Tommy, Tommy are you okay? You won’t die will you?” Sapnap ran up, hovering around as Tommy picked himself up, wanting to know stopping having a physical form because the wet fabric and the salt and the sand holy fuck this was awful. 

“No,” Tommy croaked, coughing since some of the water had gotten in his mouth and ew. “I would like to cease having a corporeal form, thank you.” 

The ocean. Nice from a distance, and conducive to thinking, but entirely too much of a prankster. That was one woman Tommy would stay a safe distance away from. 

“Okay, uh… are you okay?”

“Fine,” Tommy said, shaking himself like a dog to remove some of that water. 

“Let’s get you back to the ship. I think that’s enough adventure for one day.” 

The two dreamons were understandably nervous upon seeing Tommy soaked to the bone and trailing after Sapnap like the epitome of a wet cat, but after reassurances that no, that much salt wouldn’t hurt him, and no, he was fine with extended contact to water, he was given a towel and some of Sapnap’s spare clothes. And told not to do that again, even if Tommy could swim no one else could and XD would murder the whole crew if Tommy got drowned before delivery. 

Tommy, going as far as his leash would allow, started exploring the vegetation around the ship. It was pretty simple, single-leafed plants and taller tube-y stems that looked a little like very small palm trees. There were also some animals. Tommy noted a group of small, greenish things, a little like if fish had spiky fur and decided to walk around, and a larger cat-sized animal that fanned out a spray of tendrils around its head and whistled when Tommy got too close. 

“Hey,” Dream said, and pulled Tommy back before the animal could get any closer. “I wouldn’t go near that if I were you.”

“Why?”

“Land animals on this planet are… dangerous. Especially the predators.” 

Tommy nodded, then pointed to one of the tiny palm trees - which wasn’t exactly true, this thing seemed to grow more like grass with a stiffer stem. 

“Could I take one?”

“Uh.” Dream stared at him for a moment, jaw clicking. “What?”

“Alien plant,” Tommy said. “Could I have it?”

Ten minutes later, Tommy held a pot of dirt and alien plant on his lap, absently swinging his legs as the ship took off. He’d been instructed to strap in, as exiting an atmosphere was an entirely different ballpark from entering.

The ship rumbled, and Tommy felt his stomach swoop as it left the ground, but sure enough the sensation smoothed and he didn’t throw up, which was good. 

When the ship stopped rumbling, he leaned back farther in the chair, metal necklace back in his mouth. 

“How far away is your planet?” He asked Dream, who was fiddling around with the controls of the ship.

“A ways,” the dreamon replied cryptically. “Though we’ll need to be faster than normal. If the IA got ahold of us…” he made a hissing sound that Tommy imagined was something like a cringe. “It would be bad. Humans aren’t supposed to be taken offworld without proper powerwork.”

“And you don't have proper paperwork,” Tommy guessed.

“Yeah. We’re doing the equivalent of animal smuggling right now.” 

“I don’t even qualify as trafficking? ” Tommy huffed in mock offense. “I think I should at least count for a kidnapping, human trafficking at the very best.”

Kidnapping. Right, he’d been kidnapped. How did he keep forgetting that?

“You’re too feral,” Dream replied easily. “I think I can convince the authorities to only charge me with animal smuggling.”

“I- I am not- not feral.”

“You literally are trying to eat spare parts right now,” Dream said. 

Tommy paused, then spat out his necklace.

“Am not.”

“I don’t think your parents would let you eat metal.” 

Tommy frowned at that statement.

“My parents?” 

“Uh. Yeah. Your parents. Everyone has parents. Humans live with their parents for a long time, and there was another human at that house…”

Tommy shook his head.

“That was my brother.” 

“Oh. Don’t you have parents?” 

Something swirled in Tommy’s stomach. 

“Everyone has parents.”

One of Dream’s legs stomped against the floor.

“That’s not what I meant.” 

“Well, I don’t know.” Tommy fidgeted with the necklace, metal edges sliding over his fingertips. Clickety clickety. “It- it’s always been me and my brother. He’s the closest thing to a parent I have.” 

He’d had parents, he knew that much. 

So why couldn’t Tommy remember them? Why were his oldest memories of darkness and fear? He couldn’t think. Some part of him knew that if he did think about it, dived a little deeper, he might never come back up for air.

Chapter Text

Techno was relieved when the ship finally reached Niki’s planet - AllesWasser - if only because he was tired of being stuck on the ship. Sure, it wasn’t like he had to go anywhere, but he still ended up a little stir-crazy having nowhere to go without white walls hitting his face. Plus, on the ship there were people. Lots of people. People who tried to talk to him, or asked questions, or didn’t realize that, no, he could not talk to the dogs. 

Stepping outside, feet sinking into the sand, Techno squinted in the sunlight and eventually blocked the sun out with a hand. It was brighter than on Earth, either because it was closer or there were two stars at the center of this solar system. He wasn’t sure, and he definitely wasn’t going to check. He would like to keep his retinas.

“C’mon bossman, let’s ask around at the village.” Tubbo lightly tugged on Techno’s sleeve and started to walk, gait unsteady on the sand making up the surface of this planet. Ranboo, who’d gone ahead, seemed to have less trouble with it, but then again, he also had bigger feet. Like a camel. He was from a desert, right? How similar was Ranboo to a camel? Wait, Techno couldn’t get distracted right now, he had a brother to find.

Even if the planet was a lot more interesting than the one they’d stopped at earlier. They’d landed on an island, the most likely one for the dreamon ship to stop at, and even here Techno could see the green waves lapping against the shoreline, carrying with it bits of debris. 

The sand was stirred already, churned and rippling due to countless other feet. 

Has Tommy’s feet disturbed the sand? Techno couldn’t help wondering. Does this ocean know him?

Neither of them had ever seen the sea, and this was Niki’s ocean, not Techno’s. And Tommy probably hadn’t been let off the ship anyway. 

Tubbo ran back, as Techno had been stopped and staring at the waves. He jolted when Tubbo grabbed his arms.

“Tommy was here.”

Techno blinked. 

“Uhm. Yeah, we know the ship probably-”

“No,” Tubbo said, “Tommy was here. In the village. He was seen.”

That threw Techno into full-out protective mode.

“What? Where? Was he hurt? Did he say anything? Did he-”

“Woah, woah, bossman.” Tubbo winced and extracted himself from Techno’s grip. “Slow down. He came in with a member of the crew, got some food, and left. He didn’t look hurt, didn’t try to get away. Apparently he messed around in the ocean until he fell over and ended up going back to the ship.” 

Several different emotions swirled in Techno’s chest. Worry, anger, fear, more worry, a lot more anger-

“When did they leave?” He asked.

“About a day ago, by local time. That’s…” Tubbo did some quick counting on his fingers. “Something like eighteen hours.”

Tommy had been here less than twenty-four hours ago. Techno had missed him by eighteen hours. 

He realized his fists were clenched, nails digging into his palms, and forced himself to relax. 

A few minutes later, he was sitting on the sand watching the ocean. Ranboo had stayed on the sand as well, stretched out and seemingly napping on a blanket. The water glittered in the white sunlight, lapping at the sloping shore and at Tubbo, who was standing calf-deep in the surf watching the mer swimming. Niki had long-joined them, and Techno could occasionally see her specific shade of blue-grey scales glittering in the sun among the rest of the throng. Singing, muted out of water but still powerful, made Techno’s bones buzz uneasily. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Techno jumped, as he always did when he hadn’t realized Philza was near. The captain sat down a safe distance away, wings awkwardly half-folded so they could stretch out on the sand. 

“Have you ever been to the ocean on Earth?”

Techno shook his head. 

“I’ve always lived inland,” he said stiffly. “And I’ve never had much of an opportunity to travel.”

“Ah.” Philza was lacing and unlacing his talons. “My planet’s water is blue, like yours. But much darker. Wielka-Matka’s sea is more of a grey color.” 

Techno could imagine that. Not that he wanted to. He merely grunted and looked away. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your brother,” Philza said. 

“He’s not your brother,” Techno replied. “Why do you care?” 

“Because you care about him. And you’re here because you need to find him.” 

“So eager for me to leave?”

“Not exactly. I don’t know much about humans.”

“So you’re curious.” 

“Anyone willing to enter a warlord’s territory to find his brother is curious to me.” 

Techno was absently tracing the scars on his knuckles, unable to banish the phantom pain. 

“Other species don’t care as much about their families?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

This conversation was… frustrating. Techno understood every single word, and yet it felt like he was missing something. He absently grabbed a fistful of sand, feeling it trickle between his fingers and leave behind larger rocks and a few shells. 

“Don’t you have a ship to run?” 

There was a pause.

“I suppose I do. Shout if you need anything, alright?” A shuffling and flutter as wings folded back in, and the captain left. 

Techno… was confused. He didn’t get why Philza kept trying to talk to him like this. They were from two different planets, two different universes. Techno had a little brother and wire marks under his skin and sirens in his head and he didn’t understand why Philza was there. 

 So he got up and started walking along the shoreline. He didn’t take his boots off, not wanting to deal with wet sand, ugh, so he couldn’t feel the water lapping at his feet as he walked, hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

This island was humid, a lot more humid than back home, and Techno was getting bad vibes from the way his jacket trapped moisture against his skin, slurping against the small of his back. Eventually the jacket ended up tied around his waist, leaving him in a short-sleeved shirt that made his skin prickle but kept him from feeling too slimy. 

Hopefully there wasn’t anything alive in the sand. He’d gone to a lake once, and somehow dug up some animal or fish or something that squirmed in his hands until he panicked and threw it back into the water. 

It was so weird how he could still remember the smooth grey-green-red of the pebbles, and the cold water, and the way the lake washed bits of wood and sometimes whole logs onto the shore. Tommy was a toddler then, Techno remembered. Or maybe older? Or had he been a baby? That part of the memory was elusive, slippery as the animal in Techno’s then-small hands. Maybe Tommy hadn't even been there.

After a moment, he realized that someone was calling his name, and he’d been staring at where his boots were sinking in the sand. 

He turned. Ranboo was running up, hair and skirt tangled in the slight breeze as he carefully avoided the wet sand, having an easier time of it with his wider hooves. 

“Your pets got out,” the alien said, sounding panicked. “Someone opened the door and they ran out and we can’t catch any of them.”

Techno groaned, and pulled his feet from the sand. Water was starting to seep through the tops of his boots, but no more did as he stepped onto actual dry sand. 

“Fine, let’s go.” 

The dogs were, true to form, racing madly through the underbrush and barking and generally causing a scene. Techno groaned again, this time adding a heavy sigh, and vaguely heard Tubbo snicker. 

“Alright,” Techno said, having needed to get his emergency stash of dog treats and leashes to divvy out. “Ranboo, try to get one of the bigger dogs since they won’t bowl you over-”

“Bold of you to assume that,” Tubbo said. “He’s a spindly fellow, a beanpole. A bowling pin, you might say. Very easy to knock over.”

Techno gave him a glare. 

“Anyway.”

“What’s a bowling pin?” Ranboo asked, getting that wide-eyed expression he got when asking Techno questions. 

“Nope,” Techno said, “We are doing a Q&A after the dogs are back.” 

He eventually ended up handing leashes to Tubbo, Ranboo, and Wilbur (who said he had nothing better to do) and keeping one for himself.

And so The Great Dog Herding began. The larger dogs were easy to find and catch, since they stood out against the relatively short plants on the island, but the smaller animals proved harder to find. Apollo especially proved tricky, as he seemed to think the entire thing was a grand game and led a merry chase before he tired out and Tubbo could tackle him. 

But soon enough, Techno slumped against the side of the ship and absently looked to Wilbur. 

“Are all nine in there?” 

Wilbur turned to look inside the cargo hold, where the dogs had been penned off so they could get their last energy out. 

“Uh….. yes.” 

“Oh, good.” Techno sighed and made his way in. He passed the cargo hold and immediately headed for his emergency reading, the book which he’d already gone through front-to-back at least four times. 

He was halfway through the book again, hand wrapped up in his ponytail, when there was the click-click-click of an avian walking by.

“We’re about to take off,” Wilbur said, and a part of Techno untensed. “Tubbo said you better check on the dogs again before you bring them up here.”

Techno hummed, and when he heard Wilbur move away he got up and checked the cargo hold.

Unfortunately, all was not well. Techno counted the dogs and found one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

Eight. Eight. Not nine. 

Shroud. 

Techno would be annoyed that Wilbur hadn’t noticed, but he had bigger problems at hand. Like, for example, the fact that one of his dogs was loose on an alien planet while the size of a mug. And so, not bothering to grab his jacket or his shoes, Techno ran out of the cargo hold and off into the underbrush, where he could hear frantic yapping from Shroud. 

The sandy terrain wasn’t as prickly as he’d first expected. The plants were short, and dead leaves were crunchy underfoot, but he didn’t step on anything too sharp as he plunged deeper, following the sound of Shroud.The plants were interesting, too, like short palm trees with smooth stems and round leaves. But Techno couldn’t pay attention to the plants, he had a dog to find. 

Shroud was… well. Being a Chihuahua. Snapping at an alien animal twice his size, with a frill of tendrils around its head as it hissed, stumpy limbs planted in the sand and tail swishing back and forth. 

“Shroud,” Techno said, and Shroud’s tail wagged, but he didn’t really do anything. Typical. “Shroud!”

Shroud didn’t listen, as he was growling at the other animal. Techno sighed, and bent down to grab the dog, but as he did the alien thing sprang and buried its fangs in his arm, where he hadn’t worn a jacket because he was an idiot and holy hell that hurt.

Techno was pretty sure a bite wound wasn’t supposed to hurt that bad, he’d been stabbed plenty of times and they didn’t burn like this did as he staggered back, pain lancing up his arm and turning his veins dark red veins were definitely not supposed to be that color-

Someone was calling for him. He was stumbling, legs wobbling like they were made of gelatin. Someone was calling for him-

He could hear sirens. 

When Techno woke up, his head was pounding and his face felt wet. Why was his face wet? His mouth tasted like copper. He was laying on his back, resting on something that didn’t do wonders for his spine because it was completely solid. 

“Tech. Hey, Techno, big man.” Something lightly poked him in the ribs and he groaned, trying to push the hand away.

“Go’way, Tommy.”

There was a pause. 

“It’s… not Tommy.” 

Oh. 

Right.

Techno opened his eyes and found Tubbo crouched over him, an expression of extreme worry on his face. 

“Why are you so close?” Techno asked, and Tubbo backed up.

“Sorry, bossman, just… you really gave us a fright, y’know.” 

Techno pushed himself up to sit upright, head spinning. His vision was blurry. It wasn’t supposed to be blurry. The wound on his arm had been bandaged, but his veins still looked red. His fingernails were red. That wasn’t good. 

“What happened?” Techno asked, trying to get his tongue to cooperate. “Why’s everything.. Uh… weird.” 

“Oh. Yeah, um… so something bit you, right?”

“Yeah.” Techno swiped a hand over his face and panicked when said hand came back covered with blood. “Huh? Why is there- why?”

“I don’t know,” Tubbo said quickly, “You’re kind of. Bleeding. Uh, from your… orifices.”

Techno wrinkled his nose, which was apparently dripping blood. 

“Why?”

“See, uh, the thing that bit you, it’s basically… ugh, Niki, what’s the word?” 

“BӧsesTier,” Niki said, having evidently been nearby. “It’s the land predator on this island, and extremely venomous.” 

Techno paused. That didn’t sound good.

“How venomous?”

“It can kill a grown mer in a day or two,” Niki said offhandedly. “It works much faster on small animals.” 

Tubbo was quick to add-

“Of course, we don’t really know how it affects humans, since the chemicals affect your bodies differently, so you probably won’t die.” 

“Probably?” Techno said, poking at his cheeks and finding that weirdly sticky tears were streaming down his face. Oh, no, wait, that was more blood. Great. He was crying blood.

“It depends on how much blood you have,” Ranboo said with probably more cheer than the situation called for. Was he cheerful? Techno actually couldn’t tell. Maybe his ears were full of blood too. Blood blood blood. All the blood he’d spilled was spilling out of him now, his scars would reopen and pour and pour and pour until he met the sea and diffused into nothing, claimed by the specters and the noises that haunted him at night. 

“-chno, Techno!”

Techno blinked. Tubbo was shaking him. 

“Sorry, what?”

Tubbo sighed.

“You kind of zoned out for a minute there, big man. It was freaky. Ranboo?”

“Oh yeah, the venom affects your brain.” Ranboo definitely sounded cheerful. At least someone was having fun. “It was evolved to target the fear center, and for most animals that means stopping the heart through extreme panic. You’ll… probably be fine.” 

Techno sighed, and forced himself off the table, going to rinse the blood off his face in the sink. 

“Okay… why the bleeding?”

“No clue,” Ranboo said. “You’ve got a lot of blood, so it probably shouldn’t affect you too badly. You’ll be dizzy, maybe, but not dead.”

“And Shroud?”

“He’s fine,” Tubbo said. Techno sighed again, this time from relief. “You know, I probably should have warned you about BӧsesTiere before you wandered off.” 

“Yeah, well, if Wilbur hadn’t-” Techno paused, and looked back. Something curled through his chest, a cold prickle of something familiar. “Where’s Wilbur?” 

Tubbo, Ranboo, and Niki all shrugged. 

“With Phil, probably,” Ranboo said. “He was kind of upset about what happened, oh, and you should probably know-”

But Techno had already left, hand braced against the wall so he wouldn’t fall over since his balance was shot. Between his blurry vision and spinning head it was probably dangerous to be sauntering around, but… he needed to make sure Wilbur was okay. He needed to make sure-

Wilbur was in the bridge, head in Philza’s lap as the captain messed with his hair. He cracked one eye open, then shot up, eyes wide and hair fluffy. 

“Blood of the mothers, what happened to you?”

“Got bit,” Techno muttered, waving vaguely to his bandaged arm. “‘M fine, Tubbo said I probably wouldn’t die.” 

“Mate, you shouldn’t be walking around.” 

Techno huffed, ignoring Philza, and kept his gaze on Wilbur.

“He said you were upset.” 

“Yeah, uh, I probably should have checked more closely, and then you ran off and got hurt…” Wilbur’s gaze flickered over Techno’s arms and his eyes narrowed. 

“Great, well.” Techno put his arms behind his back. “I’m fine, so.” 

Wilbur’s expression didn’t change.

“You’re bleeding.”

Techno swiped a hand over his face. 

“That’s normal.”

“What bit you, again?”

“Uh. A thing.” Techno took a moment, trying to get his mouth to cooperate. His tongue felt strangely heavy. His ears were ringing. The walls were melting around him. “Can’t pronounce it, um… where are the walls going?”

Everything was… dark. It was dark and it was nighttime and it was warm. 

“You got bit by a bӧsestier,” Philza said. 

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Techno didn’t like what the walls were turning into, how they were slippery-sliding into silhouettes of figures watching him, a ring and lights and- he shook his head, but that only made his brain pound and he ended up slumping to the ground, still dripping blood as he tried to stay in reality, not whatever this was. Summer heat was on his back, on his hands, pressing against his nose and mouth. 

There was the sound of chatter around him, of thread snapping and scissors and tires and eyes. So many eyes. Eyes and fists and metal and pain. 

“You’re not fine.” A pair of arms were underneath his shoulders and Techno yanked himself free, whirling with a snarl.

“I’m fine! I can walk myself!” 

“Okay, okay.” The organizer raised his hands in defeat. “Walk yourself, I don’t care.”

As Techno stumbled along, head swimming even though his mouth didn’t burn, walls re-formed and he stopped short, looking around. There was no grass beneath his feet. There was light, not the shadows and faint streetlamps. 

“Are you okay?” 

Techno turned again. There were two aliens standing behind him, with folded wings and curling talons. 

“What’s going on?” Techno demanded. “Where am I?” 

“You’re on the ship,” one said, voice warping and slipping in and out of Techno’s awareness. 

“We need to get you to Tubbo,” the other said, and reached for Techno’s arm more slowly this time. 

Techno huffed but allowed himself to be half-escorted to Tubbo. Tubbo seemed confused as he looked up from where he’d been pressed into Ranboo’s side. Tiny lights seemed to appear behind his hair, popping in and out of reality like the sparks off fireworks, tiny bits of flame and heat.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“He’s being weird,” Wilbur said. 

“The walls started disappearing,” Techno said. “It- it was-” he cut off, shaking his head again as if that could etch-a-sketch his thoughts away. A hand found his elbow.

“Hey, don’t, you’ll pass out if you keep doing that.” 

“I’m fine,” Techno said. 

Tubbo frowned. 

“No, you’re not. Ranboo, how goes it?”

Ranboo, who was still curled up in the chair, looked up from his tablet. 

“Apparently the reaction between the venom and a human’s chemical makeup means that humans have a tendency to hallucinate.”

“Oh.” All three avians looked to Techno, who regarded them.

“What?”

“It’s a good thing the ship already took off,” Philza said. “But I think we should make sure you don’t get near the cargo hold or the bridge, just in case.”

Techno scowled. 

“Just in case what?” 

“In case you try breaking anything,” Tubbo said. “Look, Tech, we can’t risk you getting found out. Hopefully it won’t be too bad, and you can just hang out in your room until we’re sure that the venom’s worked out of your system.” 

Techno sighed, wiping blood off of his face. He was getting really tired of this. 

“Alright, I guess. I’ll see you later.” 

Back in the room he was starting to think of as ‘his own’, Techno flopped down on the bed where he didn’t have to worry about his legs giving out or his head spinning. Was he getting blood all over the blankets? Probably. Did he care? Not really. He could deal with it later, when it didn’t hurt to exist and he could think without feeling like his brain had been secretly replaced with chunks of mud. 

Still, despite the pounding in his skull, and the aching in his limbs, Techno managed to fall asleep, curled on the top of his blankets with venom coursing through his veins to the beat of his traitorous heart. 

*****

“Well, kid, we’ve been lucky.”

Tommy, who’d been sitting cross-legged on the ship floor as he tended his plant, looked up. 

“Huh?” 

Sapnap was leaned against an entryway, idly chewing on a strip of what looked like fruit leather. 

“We were contacted by an informant. Apparently there’s a ship that’s been following us: the ACS Varona. Avian captain, I’m guessing.”

“Avian?”

“Yeah, they’re another species. Winged, feathery, talons that can gut a man with the same effort you use to pull a weed.” 

Tommy thought for a moment.

“A big weed, or a little one?”

“Little one.” Sapnap held his hands apart to represent something at least six inches long. “Big talons. I wouldn’t want to get swarmed by a group of those, believe me.” 

“Are they mean?” 

Sapnap watched Tommy for a moment. Then he shrugged. 

“They’re protective of their families, and if there’s an avian captain then there’s also at least one avian crewmate. So they’d probably be vicious.” 

“Oh.” Tommy fiddled with his necklace to calm his racing thoughts. “Why are they following you?”

“Probably because we kidnapped you.” Sapnap sounded amused. “Humans aren’t meant to be taken off-world, so it’s probably an IA ship hoping to run us down and get you back to Earth.” 

“And the IA is…”

“Intergalactic Alliance. It’s the planets colonized by species other than humans and dreamons.” Sapnap made a face that included baring very sharp-looking double-pointed teeth. “It has a lot of regulation surrounding Earth, believe me. If they found us, they’d take you back with no hesitation.”

Take me back. 

Tommy hadn’t even realized that was an option. But now it was, and now the idea was… alluring.

If Tommy could go back, he could see Techno again. He could see his brother again.

Homesickness welled up in his chest and he looked down, the bridge of his nose burning. 

“Hey,” Sapnap said, coming forward and ruffling Tommy’s hair. “You’ll be alright. In a few years I bet you’ll have forgotten all of this.”

Tommy didn’t want to forget.

“What if I go back?” He managed to get out. He needed to breathe. 

“You won’t. Trust me, Dream won’t fail this mission.” 

“Ah yes, the mission,” Tommy said bitterly. “Kidnap a random human and drag him off to be the pet of an overgrown spider.” 

“Yeah,” Sapnap said. “I won’t lie, that’s not exactly my favorite thing. But a mission is a mission.” He paused. “Drista’s not so bad, you know. And there’ll be others around to keep you company.” 

“Like you?” Tommy frowned. “Why do you work for the bugs anyway?”

Sapnap chuckled and winced. 

“That’s a long story.”

“And it’s a long trip.” 

Sapnap huffed in amusement and flopped onto the nearest beanbag.

“The planet I was born on, End, was invaded by the dreamons when I was a kid. My clan surrendered to XD, and now they live in his palace. He keeps people from every planet he’s taken, y’know, if they’re interesting enough.” He shrugged, gaze odd as if not seeing Tommy or the ship. “I decided to join Dream’s crew when the opening came, and now here I am.” 

“Oh, great, so you’re a curiosity.” 

Sapnap rolled his eyes. 

“Like you’re not.” 

“I’m fantastic, that’s what I am.” Tommy paused, pulling his knees to his chest. “You couldn’t have taken my brother too?” 

“He killed Punz,” Sapnap said flatly. “Dream was not taking an aggressive human along with us.” 

Tommy sighed.

“I guess that makes sense.” Still, he was absently tapping his fingers on the sides of his arm, other thumb dragging back and forth through the metal around his neck. “You’ve got family?”

“Yeah. My dad, and his…” Sapnap wrinkled his nose. “I don’t really think it translates. Partner, basically? But not my mom. Clans are kind of complicated to explain.”

Sapnap’s family tree had already turned into something brain-bendingly geometric, so Tommy nodded.

“Better move on, then.” He kept fiddling with his necklace. “You really work for these guys? Even though they invaded your planet?” 

Sapnap’s ears flicked back and he looked away, scratching at the base of one of his horns. Nervous. A little awkward.

“It’s the only home I really know.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to stay there,” Tommy said. “I know I-”

“You what?”

Tommy faltered, and shut his mouth.

“Nothing. Nevermind.” 

Sapnap gave him a look. 

Tommy looked away.

“Tommy, what are you not saying?”

“I’m not saying a lot of things. I’m not saying, for example, that I’m fed up with this shit.” 

“Tommy…”

“Sapnap,” Tommy mimicked. “Leave me alone, okay? You’re pissing me off.” 

Sapnap sighed and got up.

“Alright then. Dream is working, but George will be in the storage room if you need anything.” 

Tommy nodded, and continued fiddling with his necklace. Once Sapnap was fully gone, he flopped fully back against a beanbag, staring up at the ceiling. 

Family. That word held several meanings for him. 

Family was an arm around his shoulders, a hand ruffling his hair, a low chuckle as Tommy said something to make his brother laugh. 

And yet family was heaving sobs, the sound of footsteps pounding on concrete, iron pressing into his nose and dripping down, down, down. 

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut as the memories, long pressed-down into his subconscious, rose at the provocation. His life was separated into two halves- Before and After, with a period of darkness after Before and before After. He didn’t need to think about events that were nine years old. Events that were more dangerous than his child self knew. 

A part of him knew that it was more for preservation than anything else. 

“We can’t keep him around any longer,” his parents’s voices echoed in his ears. “He’ll just bring trouble.”

A voice rousing him from sleep, the weary blinking under harsh electric lights. 

The world rushing by as he knew things would never be the same again.

Tommy rolled over and tried to stop thinking. 

Unfortunately, this time he had no Tubbo, had no car to get in and drive all the way to the edge of town where he could scream off the edge of a gravel pit, no house to come back to where the insulation was shitty and there was dog hair on everything but doors never slammed and he never lay under the bed muffling sobs into his hands. 

Here, he couldn’t run away from the memories. He was locked in a box, locked into himself, and if Tommy wanted to keep himself alive and in reasonably good health he couldn’t allow himself to fall behind, to stumble and slip under the weight of burdens his ox of a brother still carried. 

So Tommy thought of sand. He thought of the waves on the alien planet, pounding and pulling at him as if beckoning him into her briny embrace, and he imagined that the sea was taking his memories. Crumbling sandy walls into a smooth shore, where no one could see the bodies buried and no one bothered to look. The sea kept her secrets well. 

And so Tommy, floating between the stars, between the immense coalitions of atoms that had spawned life and movement free of forces like gravity, finally let himself relax. No one would know. No one could know. Least of all him.

Chapter Text

When Techno woke up, he was… home. 

Not the house he’d shared with Tommy and the dogs. 

The house he’d grown up in. The house where he’d carved his name into the inside of the closet, the house with the screen door that was always slamming and the floors that shuddered as he did, with the thump, thump, thump of dangerous footsteps.

This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right, but Techno could see it. So maybe he was just… confused. He was usually confused. 

Had he been dreaming? Aliens, space, the sea that had lapped at his ankles… was that real? Had it been real? 

Techno got out of bed and paused when his hair slipped over one shoulder. Not pink. Blonde, and choppy at the edges where it fell into his face. Oh. 

Well, dreaming or not, Techno got out of bed and stumbled out of his room. He didn’t want to be vulnerable like that. Door cracked open, he could see Tommy’s room across the hall. Door open. Empty. Techno frowned, and checked the hall. Coast clear.

Techno skipped the board he knew always creaked on the floor, hand braced against the wall because he still felt dizzy. Why did his head spin so much?

There was a sound. Warbling, and soft, like it was just out of audible range. Techno turned, and saw…

Tommy. Tommy at nine years old, with wildly blonde and curly hair, one bruise on his cheek and bandaids scattered along his legs and arms. 

“Tommy,” Techno said softly, and relief made him want to collapse right then and there. “You’re okay.” 

Tommy blinked, saying nothing, and glanced down the hall. Techno did so as well, and felt fear creep up his spine when he saw shadows pooling there, bringing a very obvious sensation of dread. He knew who that was, and it wasn’t good.

“Come on,” Techno said, and grabbed his brother’s hand, pulling him out of the danger zone. Once the door was safely closed, he sighed and sat back down on the bed. Here things were… safer. Tommy hovered near the door, but Techno patted the bed next to him. “Don’t just stand there. It’s alright.”

 Techno pulled his legs up, wincing as a wound on his arm pulled, and absently turned his hands over. Cuts and bruises lined the backs. New scars, some pink, some white, trailed up his arms in odd places. One diagonal across his forearm, another slicing up his wrist. Techno pondered over them for a moment. He didn’t remember getting those, and didn’t know why he wasn’t wearing a jacket to hide them. But then again, there were a lot of scars he couldn’t remember getting. Many of his memories were blurry, the only concrete feeling being the fire within him and the burn down his throat. 

Still, Tommy sat at the foot of the bed, posture hunched and gaze on Techno. His gaze was… wary. 

“You’re quiet,” Techno noted. “Bad day?”

Tommy looked back down at his feet and nodded.

“It’s okay,” Techno said, this time a lot softer. “C’mere.”

Tommy was warm, pressed into his side. Surprisingly fragile. Techno gave him a reassuring pat on the head, and Tommy leaned into the touch.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m just here.”

Tommy nodded again and practically melted into Techno’s side, helping ground him even though his head was still spinning.

Techno blinked, and found that the world around him was wobbling, melting into strange shapes like he was living in a Salvador Dali painting. The paint seemed to melt down the walls, blankets winding around his ankles like a nest of snakes. The darkness was growing, pooling under the door. Techno felt his heartbeat speed up, panic crawling inside him like a box of mealworms.

“Tommy,” he whispered. “Tommy, we have to go.” 

Tommy didn’t protest when he was lowered out of Techno’s bedroom window, Techno following and feeling the dry grass under his bare feet. The dust from the recently-removed screen made him want to sneeze, but he managed to suppress the urge. 

This was the side yard, with the fence a hundred or so feet away and a few trees sprinkled alongside the wire as a windbreak. There wasn’t anywhere to go. They were at the edge of town, and the yard was big and open enough that they would get spotted trying to leave. Techno couldn’t drive. 

So instead he sat down against the back of the house, right below a window so he wouldn’t be seen. Tommy sat beside him.

“Sorry,” Techno said, still quiet. “I didn’t want him finding us. He’d be mad, and then, y’know.” His head pounded. How hungover was he? Usually the organizer didn’t give him anything too strong, but… This didn’t feel like a hangover. He hadn’t had a hangover this bad since… 

The world wobbled again. Wobbled and shifted back into the dark smothering air of summer nights, Techno was back there he was there there was fabric in his hands flesh underneath his knuckles-

It was Tommy. 

It was Tommy lolling in his grasp, face blackened and bloody and Techno screamed as he dropped his brother, who collapsed like a cut marionette unmoving, unmoving, he wasn’t moving was he dead had Techno killed him was he dead?

The roar of the onlookers was deafening as Techno’s arm was grabbed, clenched fist raised high into the air even as blood turned his hand and arm into pure crimson. 

Tommy’s blood (“And our undefeated champion wins again!”) that was Tommy’s blood (“ Give it up for Technoblade!”) that was Tommy’s blood.

The hand around his wrist was clawed, black talons soaked in Tommy’s blood. 

Techno ripped himself free and staggered straight into another world, back in his bedroom. 

His heart was racing, beating fast enough that it hurt, straining against his chest like a wild animal. 

Was he losing his mind? 

He couldn’t keep ahold of any of his thoughts, any rationality, it all slipped in and out like the world around him. He was losing his mind.

(For a moment he could see pale walls around him, a pale ceiling to match. His vision was blurry, but he could see someone standing outside, with blonde hair and blue eyes and a giant blanket wrapped around his shoulders. 

“Tommy,” he mumbled, even though his tongue was refusing to cooperate.)

There were sounds outside his door, swallowed whimpers and jittery breaths and fleshy thumps. 

Tommy. 

Techno scrambled for the door, trying the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. It was locked. 

It was locked. 

The door was locked and Tommy was out there he was out there being hurt. 

Techno would have shouted, would have cussed out the sky and the door and the man on the other side, but his throat was wrapped tight and he could say nothing, just gasp weakly and lean against the door, head spinning, always spinning.

This was the most scared he’d felt in a while. He’d built up an immunity to being afraid, due to events, but now there was pure terror crawling through him, making a home in his clenched hands and his racing heart and all through his skull. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. 

Techno didn’t know how to handle it. The fear, the panic, it had smashed through his defenses the first time he’d heard Tommy whimper in a spot where Techno couldn’t reach him. 

Couldn’t protect him. 

When the door finally opened, Techno wrapped Tommy up in his arms, face buried in his hair.

“Oh my god,” Techno said, the sound rather muffled. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” 

Tommy said nothing. He leaned his head into Techno’s chest, and Techno didn’t know how both of them hadn’t broken yet. 

And for some reason, whatever reason, (he was dreaming, that was why, he was dreaming and this Tommy would never hear the words he was saying) Techno kept talking.

“I should be stronger. I should be strong enough to keep you from being hurt.” His face was still pressed into Tommy’s hair. “But I’m not. I’m not and the only thing I could ever do was…”

He couldn’t finish. He couldn’t finish because those next words sat heavy on his chest, always a weight on his heart, the last thing that would damn him. 

“I had to protect you,” Techno whispered. His hand was buried into Tommy’s hair, careful with the curls. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m sorry.”

Tommy’s face was all bruises when he pulled back, eyes meeting Techno’s. He didn’t smile. He just tipped his head, like a little bird trying to make sense of Techno’s sudden emotional vulnerability. His eyes were the same as always. Pale, and blue, and Tommy’s.

“It’s okay,” he whispered back. His voice was… strange. Echoey, and almost like a song. “You did your best.”

Techno sighed and gently, oh-so-gently, let his forehead rest against Tommy’s.

“It wasn’t good enough.” 

(There was wetness on his cheeks. Copper in his mouth. The person breathing didn’t move.

“I wasn’t good enough,” he said.)

“I don’t care,” Tommy said. Techno squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a little huff.

“Yeah, but you’re not-” 

But he didn’t finish talking. He curled his arms tighter around Tommy, keeping him closer. That made reality wobble less, and his heart slow down a little. It still hurt to beat, but now it felt less like it would pop. He could breathe. 

Tommy was safe. Techno was holding him, while he was held he was safe and Techno could breathe.

That didn’t last long. Nothing did.

Tommy was hurt, over and over again, sometimes under Techno’s fists but sometimes under someone else’s, and sometimes he ran from Techno and Techno ran after until the darkness became walls penning him in, hands on his arms pulling him pulling him from his brother and he fought them (“Shit, he’s big.” “You better stay with him, just to make sure he doesn’t destroy the bridge.”) until reality wobbled again. 

Again, and again, and again, the cycle repeated. Nothing ever changed about it, just the place and the people.

Sometimes Techno would realize that none of this was real, but those moments were few when faced with the overwhelming realness of it all, leaving him pretty much accepting of anything that happened, from the dark, twisted creatures clawing at his feet to Tommy, getting hurt in increasingly more brutal ways. Dismemberment, stabbing, strangulation, pure blunt trauma, all of it. Every possible death Techno could see, he did.

(“He’s stopped bleeding.” “Is that a good sign?”)

Techno stopped trying to fight. 

He sat with his head tucked onto his knees, head spinning as he watched Tommy’s blood pooling on the ground. 

(Someone sat down next to him, and he didn’t move. Something draped over his shoulder.)

“It’s going to be okay,” Tommy said. 

Techno didn’t reply. He didn’t have the energy. He didn’t have the strength. 

“It’s okay,” Tommy said again, and Techno slowly looked over. 

That was his brother. Except with wings, curled up behind his back. 

Techno blinked, and reached out so his hand brushed against Tommy’s wings. They twitched, the feathers soft against his fingers.

“Why do you have wings?” Techno mumbled aloud. 

Tommy grinned, and it wasn’t Tommy’s grin, it was sharper and yet so much more emotive. It wasn’t Tommy’s grin and yet it was entirely Tommy’s because he was the one grinning.

“Because. Why not?”

Techno frowned.

“Because you’re not supposed to have wings.”

Tommy shrugged.

“Why does it matter?”

Techno felt… dark. Empty. Tommy’s feathers were so soft. Almost like leaves of silk. 

“It’s just more of you that can be broken,” Techno said quietly. 

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“No,” Techno said. “I don’t. I’ve always been the one to look after you.” 

Tommy laughed, soft and not directed at anything in particular.

“Always the big brother, huh?” He tugged at Techno’s hair, gently and enough that Techno slumped against his shoulder. “Sometimes you need to take care of yourself.”

Techno snorted.

“That’s not happening.”

Tommy, blessedly, didn’t ask why. He ran his fingers through Techno’s hair (it had fallen loose, the tie pulled out when it had gotten caught), nails dragging over his scalp and making his skin prickle. 

“I can’t lose you,” Techno whispered. “I can’t.” 

“I know.” 

(The weight on his shoulders was keeping him down, keeping him from drifting away. He was curled in a loose nest of blankets, tucked into a side. 

“You should rest.” 

Techno blinked slowly. His hand was still buried in feathers.

“You need your sleep.”)

Techno slept. 

Blessedly, he drifted in darkness, more aware nightmares beaten back by pure exhaustion tugging him too deep even for that. 

Tommy was still there. Always out of reach, running or even standing but always untouchable. 

And when Techno became conscious enough that he was aware again, in darkness or wood or bars of light on his face, Tommy was there too. Pushing him back down, either gently or sternly. 

Techno knew he’d been dreaming at this point, when enough time had paused that he reasonably assumed that something concrete should have happened.

What he’d dreamed, exactly, wasn’t clear. All of his memories were blurry and fragmented, reality and unreality warping and merging together so he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. Wood and white and black and red went in and out of his vision, interspersed with the occasional panic episode of snakes crawling on the floor or Tommy’s blood seeping down the walls. 

Sometimes Techno could see blurry shapes in the corners of his vision or lurking in doorways, long and thin or vaguely human with folded wings. They never spoke, never moved, simply remained. 

Techno eventually (after realizing that they wouldn’t leave) mostly ignored them, since all they really did was watched.

He drifted again. 

“Are you sure you can’t come out?” 

“I can’t leave him alone. I’m sorry.”

Silence

“Fine. ”

Techno shifted, unable to help a mumbling groan as his bones ached.  

“Awake again?” There was a hand scratching through his hair, and Techno, having zero self-control while still half-asleep, hummed contentedly. 

“Mmmnope.”

A soft laugh. Not Tommy’s laugh. But Techno didn’t notice. 

“What?”

“‘M sleeping,” Techno said, voice muffled both because his tongue wasn’t cooperating, inconsiderate muscle, and he was laying face-down in a blanket. “Snoring. I’m snoring.”

“Are you?” The hand poked at his cheek and Techno grunted without moving.

“That’s mean. Ow.”

“I don’t know, that doesn’t sound like snoring.”

Techno snorted softly. 

“I’m snoring so loudly.” 

Tommy laughed again. 

“You’re being a goose. An uncooperative goose.”

“‘M not a goose,” Techno muttered. “Geese are murderous bastards. Best to leave them alone.” 

“Oh, true. True.” There was a gentle tug on Techno’s hair and he managed to raise one arm, trying to swat the hand away.

“Quit, child. What are you doing?” 

“Investigating,” Tommy replied. 

“Investigating what?”

“A foreign kind of fauna,” Tommy said cheerfully. “It’s a low risk opportunity.”

“Huh?” Techno huffed. “I’m super risky. I could totally hurt you if I wanted to.”

“But you won’t.”

Techno paused, then sighed.

“I won’t. I won’t hurt you.”

(“Are you sure you won’t come out?”

“I can’t. I need to look after him.”

“There’s more than him that needs looking after, you know.”

“I know.”)

Techno grumbled softly, stretching out again and feeling his spine pop. 

“Who’re you talking to?” 

“Nobody,” Tommy said softly. “Don’t mind it.” 

Techno went back to sleep. This wasn’t hard, as exhaustion had been dragging his mind down for the past while. 

He dreamed of the sea. 

Currents tugging at his hair, waves lapping at his skin. The salt burned on his scars, but the foam soothed the pain. The water was blue, and it was green, and it was the color of the night sky. It was everything. 

When he looked up, the sunlight rippled through the air. When he looked down, eternity yawned below his feet. 

For once, he had no armor. No boots, no jacket, nothing to protect him from the world and to protect the world from him. 

His hair spun around his head like grass in the wind. But there was no wind. No air. Just the currents, and the warmth of the sea. 

He breathed. He saw nothing but the darkness of the water, and the light above him. 

He breathed. Below his feet, he could see things stirring in the ocean. 

Memories. Darkness. 

He breathed. He was in eternity. The oldest home of life, the cradle of disaster and things too ancient to be named. 

Here, nothing could hurt him. He didn’t have to struggle to breathe, to fight for existence. 

He was. 

And that was enough. 

Around him, there was color. The flickers of life, dancing between currents and through the light of the distant sun. Red, gold, green, blue, creatures of eternity. Like him, if with no troubling thoughts and not-distant-enough memories of the abyss. No scars.

He breathed. For once, his ribs didn’t strain. 

He breathed. There was no metal under his skin. 

He breathed. He couldn’t hear sirens. Sound couldn’t carry between the sea and the sky. 

He breathed. The land was a distant memory, something in his bones but not in his blood.

The sea was everything alive. It was a part of him, and he belonged to it. Skin was a thoughtless barrier, veins merely rivers contained deep within stardust given solidity. Stardust and the sea. That was all he was. 

The life in the sea was brushing against his skin. The creatures, pieces of life and color, slipped between his fingers as he floated, words like a distant avalanche in his ears. Sound may carry better in the sea, but if he didn’t let himself hear, it didn’t matter anyway. 

In the end, none of it really mattered. He would be stardust, given to the earth for the price of walking upright. 

He understood what the life was saying. They were speaking of death, of pain. Of-

Of Tommy’s pain. 

Tommy. 

His fingers curled. 

He breathed, but the sea now hated him for daring to think of the sky, for thinking of the darkness below. She crushed his ribs, making it hard to breathe. She battered against him, salt and sand scraping against barely-healed scars. He blinked, but it was hard to see anything but the darkness below and the light above. 

He swam. He fought the darkness, the tendrils wrapped around his ankles, and swam towards the light. 

The sea pulled at him, dragging and tearing in her efforts to keep him. But Techno was stubborn, so he fought against her. He fought, kicking and pulling himself through the water, and eventually broke the surface. The sun blinded him, water streaming down his face as he looked all around. The surface of the sea was a mirror, a barrier only broken by the rippling of the wind-made waves. 

Techno breathed, but the sea wouldn’t let him. She was pulling him back down, brine going in his mouth and salt crusting his eyes he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe-

“Need some help?”

Techno managed to look up. There was a canoe, floating on the mirror of a sea. Tommy was standing in the dented steel boat, a young man with unmarred skin and a smile. His hand was outstretched, the other holding a wooden oar. 

Techno took the hand. Tommy heaved him up into the canoe and Techno slumped onto one of the benches, water dripping off of him and pooling around his bare feet. His hair stuck to the back of his neck and his shirt, streaked between natural blonde and dyed pink. 

Tommy turned back, beginning to row. Techno could hear himself breathe, and the waves lapping disdainfully at the sides of the canoe, but that was it. The sea was empty but for them. The sky above was black, but laced with infinite swirls of stars and the dusky clouds of green-gold-red nebulae. The colors shifted slightly as Techno watched, unblinking. A constant existence without action. 

Techno breathed. Tommy was alright. He was alright. They were going to be okay. 

He looked back, and saw blood. There was blood on the sea, spreading from where Techno sat in the canoe out across the glassy water, turning blue into red, red, red. An oil slick of pain, of vicious fury and survival and summer nights.

Techno stopped looking. He felt the canoe rock slightly, watched Tommy (who never saw, who never saw and never knew and still didn’t know why things were the way they were), and heard the water drip, drip, drip from his hair. The canoe moved silently under the vast, infinite sky.

Chapter Text

When Techno next realized he was conscious, he also realized that he was hungry enough to eat a dog. A big one, too, maybe Bear or Steve. His mouth was dry, and when he raised his head, his vision was partially obscured by pink hair falling in his face. 

He groaned softly as he got up, arm still twinging - that was going to be a nasty scar - and head still spinning. Footsteps, and in the doorway of his cabin appeared Tubbo, whose eyes widened. 

“Bossman?”

“Hey, Tubbo,” Techno said, clearing his dry throat. “Uh. I’m hungry.”

Tubbo laughed slightly.

“Not surprised. You were pretty out of it for… huh, must be around three days now.” 

“Three days?” Techno jerked forwards and nearly fell over, since all of him ached. 

“Woah, big man, let's not jump the gun here.” Tubbo moved forward to do something, but Techno merely growled and he stepped back. “Okay, okay. You’re alright, man, the venom should be all worked out of you now.”

Techno huffed and kept walking, leaning heavily against the wall. 

“Did I break anything?” He asked, voice still rough.

“Uh… no. Except Wil’s pride. We managed to keep you in your room, even if you got a little…” Tubbo made an interesting face. “Territorial is a great word for it.”

Techno hummed in acknowledgement, though that specific description was… a little confusing. He needed water. And food. And to wash the blood off his face because, oh wow, there was dried blood all over him. 

“What do you remember?” Tubbo asked, and Techno shrugged as he got water, chugging the glass in one go and refilling it for another round. 

“Dunno. It was all kind of… confusing. I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

Tubbo grinned.

“Nah.”

“Did we go anywhere?”

“Couldn’t do so safely. We’ve been on AllesWasser since you got bit.”

“You’re awake!” 

Techno turned, clutching his cup tighter, and pressed his back to the wall as Philza approached, looking him over. 

“You alright, mate?” 

“Fine,” Techno mumbled. 

“He’s also not hallucinating anymore,” Tubbo said, though it seemed like more of a jab when the avian frowned.

“I can talk for myself,” Techno grumbled, and forced himself to address Philza directly. “I’m fine. I hope I didn’t wreck anything.” 

The captain shook his head. 

“Oh, no, no, you didn’t. We managed to keep you from getting near the bridge, though you certainly tried your best.” He laughed, and it sounded strangely familiar, but Techno didn’t have time to recognize that. 

“Mm,” he said instead, and tried to find food. 

Philza, however, didn’t leave. He hovered vaguely at Techno’s shoulder, half-pretending to be doing something productive and half just… there. His wings were half-folded, so the edge of one brushed against Techno’s back as he turned. 

“Do you need something?” Techno asked finally, and the alien blinked. His eyes could’ve been human. That didn’t improve him. 

“No, I’m alright.” 

Techno gave him an uneasy ‘okay…’ and moved on. 

Philza followed him. That didn’t help Techno relax as he walked around, trying his very hardest to shake the avian loose. Unfortunately, the captain knew the ship better, so that particular effort was futile. Didn’t stop Techno from trying. 

*****

Tommy was starting to seriously consider sabotage. Sure, he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the important machinery, but if he took a screwdriver to the walls, that could definitely cause problems. 

So far, he’d mentally mapped out around three rooms where he was allowed to be. Bathroom (obviously), the room he’d woken up in and was basically where everyone slept, and the food storeroom. While the bathroom and the bed/sleeping room were adjoining, the storeroom was down a hall, and there were several doors between the trio that Tommy couldn’t open. Obviously these doors contained important equipment better kept away from a chaotic shit like Tommy, so they were all locked. 

Unfortunately for them, Tommy knew how to pick locks. How he’d acquired this skill, he couldn’t remember (he didn’t let himself remember), but it came naturally to pocket stray bits of wire Sapnap left around and bend them into the locks of the doors, listening with his eyes closed as there was the click-click-click of tumblers. When one of the crew came by, he had to pretend he’d been doing something else, back to the door handle, and wait until he was alone again. 

He wasn’t sure what the intent of his sabotage was. Obviously to fuck stuff up, but after that, what was he going to do? Escape? Then what? 

Tommy had no way of going home. And even if he did, there was a sense of unease that now he couldn’t banish whenever he thought of his old life. How was he supposed to go back to his brother and pretend nothing was wrong? 

This was why Tommy didn’t like making plans. It made him think, and… well. Thinking led to places he’d rather not go. 

Although a part of him wondered why that was. Why did he feel so uneasy when faced with the realization that he didn’t bother knowing himself any more than he knew the sea? He stood in the shallows, but recoiled when the waves tried to drag him down. The sea whispered in his ears as she brushed against the shore, but he blocked out her words with the scream of gulls overhead. 

Who is your brother? The sea asked, and Tommy retreated to the sand. He set the lockpicks back in his pocket, wandering back into the room where George was taking inventory. 

“Hi Tommy,” George said without looking up. Tommy forced himself not to think of the sea, sitting down in front of the alien and watching him work. 

“When is the ship landing?” Tommy asked. “I’m bored.”

“In a few days,” George replied. “We’re refueling again in dreamon territory before we get to Centro Verde.” 

“Oh,” Tommy said. A part of him felt sick. Another part was curious. “How do you talk?”

George paused, and looked up. His top pair of arms flexed idly in confusion. 

“What?”

Tommy pointed to his own face. 

“Your mouth doesn’t move.” 

George cocked his head, then heaved himself upright. He pointed to a spot along his back, where there were spines jutting out from white carapace. 

“They rub together,” he explained, and, yep, they did. When Tommy listened really hard, he could hear the raspy chirping. “Our mouths are only for eating.”

“Lame,” Tommy said. “You’re giant bugs. That’s what you are.”

“And you’re a weird fleshy thing.” George sat back down to continue working. “How do you even stay together?”

“Bones,” Tommy said. George clicked his fingers together in disgust. 

“Are all of you like that?”

“Yep.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure. My brother broke his arm once. Can’t break what you don’t have.”

“Your brother? Oh, right. What was his name again?”

Tommy opened his mouth, then hesitated.  Confusion from George. 

“You forgot your brother’s name?” 

“No,” Tommy said, now flustered. “I’m just- it’s-” he growled, face warm, and jerked his head in frustration. “Nothing. Nevermind. Leave me alone.” 

George didn’t push it. Tommy ended up curling up in one of the beds, staring up at the ceiling and trying to push away the waves crashing into his memories, dislodging flotsam that floated to the surface of his mind. 

Tommy giggled as he was hoisted over a shoulder, head hanging down so the blood pounded in his ears.

“Oh boy,” his brother said, “this is a really light sack of potatoes. Really hard, too.”

“I’m not a bag of potatoes!” Tommy protested, driving one fist into his brother’s back.

“Did the potatoes just speak to me? Wow, magic potatoes! I’ve never bought any of those.” 

Tommy giggled harder.

“I’m not potatoes,” he said again. “I’m Tommy!” 

“Tommy? How did you turn into a bag of potatoes?” 

“Tommy!”

Tommy frowned, and pushed himself up to look out the window. There was something pink on the front porch. 

“Can I get down now?” Tommy asked. A sigh, and he was set down. 

“Yeah.” A hand rested on his head. “Be safe.”

Tommy snorted and pushed the hand off.

“I’ll be fine, Theo.” 

Tommy opened his eyes and sat up. 

What?

What? 

“Tommy?” 

Tommy flinched, then looked over. George was looking at him, confused again. 

“I’m fine,” Tommy lied. “Human thing.”

George accepted that and turned away again. Tommy, making an executive decision, stood up and walked out into the hallway, where he wrapped his arms around his middle and leaned heavily against the wall.

“What the fuck,” he whispered. “What the fuck?”

His- his brother’s name was Techno. Not- not that. 

Before. Before, before, before. 

Why did his memories start when- 

When did they start? 

Birth?

Nine?

Thirteen? 

The sea had swallowed them all. The sea had swallowed his past, and now it scared him. 

“Theo,” he whispered. The name was heavy in his mouth, the effort of moving a joint coated in scar tissue. 

“You can’t say that name anymore.” A hand in his hair. “It’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

Why?

Why? 

A name whispered into his room at night. A milkshake under bright lights. The darkness outside a bus window. 

After long enough, he’d stopped saying the name. Stopped trying to remember. It was easier that way, easier to paste Techno onto all of his memories- 

Why?

Why?

“It’s… nothing.” 

A familiar picture stapled onto a notice board. The face Tommy used to see when he looked into the mirror. 

Missing. Missing, missing, missing. 

“No.” Tommy shook his head, not realizing he’d spoken aloud. “No.” 

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t let himself think. His mind was tearing in two, subconscious self-destructing because this was what he’d given the sea. 

The sea was betraying him. She was letting the secret rise to the surface like a corpse taken by the water, and it was destroying him.

What was his brother’s name? 

Tommy let out a sound that could have been a scream, or a wail, or something inhuman altogether, and practically slammed himself into the wall. Pain bloomed along his knuckles, the jutting of his skull, his chin and cheeks and everything . 

“Tommy? Tommy!” 

“Go away!” Tommy threw the words at Sapnap, who had appeared from one of the locked doors and looked more than a little afraid. His ears were pinned back, tail flicking back and forth. 

“Tommy-”

“Leave me alone!” Tommy felt his lungs spasm and leaned his head back against the wall. It was cold. “Just leave me alone.” 

Footsteps, going away. 

After a few minutes, there were the clicks of doorways sealing, and the familiar sickly almond taste of oblivion. 

Tommy let the sea take him. His limbs fell, and he fell with it. 

Knock knock. 

Darkness. 

“Hey, Tommy? It’s time to go.”

“Go where?” 

The sea. They were going to the sea, where water dripped off stone and fell plick, plick, plick in the sink in the washed-out color of blood. 

Tommy remembered what it looked like to see his brother laying on the floor, a dark dark liquid pooling around his head underneath a streetlight.

*****

“We have a problem,” Tubbo said. 

Techno, who’d been brushing his hair, looked up. 

“What?” he asked at the same time as Philza (who was a few feet away, because he was evidently being an inconvenience today).

“I’ve been tracking the probable location of the ship with Tommy - the Spirit, or whatever.” Tubbo turned around the tablet in his hands, and Techno blinked at what looked like a tracker on a very dense image of lines and circles. “Since they refueled on AllesWasser, the ship will reach dreamon territory before refueling again.” 

Techno felt his jaw clench, and yanked through a tangle harder than was probably necessary.  

“How long?”

“Huh?”

“How long before the ship is in dreamon territory?” 

Tubbo paused, then sighed and looked down.

“Three days. That’s 60 hours, give or take.”

Techno started adding up the days in his head. Sixty hours -  somewhere between two and three days - plus the three days he’d spent getting the venom out of his system, plus the days they’d spent after leaving Earth. 

He’d been gone for two weeks. It had been two weeks since Techno had seen his brother. 

Techno resisted to throw his brush at something. Instead, he muttered nothings as he worked through tangles, feeling more stiff than he should be. 

“That’s too long,” he said. 

“What?”

“Tommy’s been gone too long. I was supposed to protect him, and he’ll-” Techno paused, shaking his head. “I can’t make sure he’s okay if I’m not with him.” 

“I know,” Tubbo said. He looked over as Ranboo entered, expression brightening. “Boo! Hey! You look great!” 

Techno blinked at Ranboo, who had evidently changed clothes. He could’ve been someone on earth, in a long-sleeved dress with leaves sprinkled all over the fabric. 

“It’s not cold anymore!” Ranboo said cheerfully, and Techno tilted his head. The dress did look familiar. 

“Tubbo, haven’t we seen that somewhere before?”

“Mm?” Tubbo, who’d evidently been distracted, glanced to Techno. “Oh, yeah, I got it on Earth.”

“Huh?”

“There isn’t really a market for ender-sized clothes,” Ranboo explained with a shrug, sitting down in one of the chairs. “Avian stuff is closer in size, but it’s usually for warmer weather and space is cold.”

“Humans are also close in size,” Tubbo added, “And they’ve got warmer stuff. So I’ve been building a collection.” 

“Huh.” Techno had never considered something as simple as clothes to be a problem for aliens. But then again, Ranboo was, like, ten feet tall. 

“Come on,” Ranboo said, standing again - slightly hunched, as always - to take Tubbo’s hands. “I have more questions to ask!”

“Okay, okay, I’m coming.” Tubbo was laughing as he left, and Techno went back to brushing. 

“Are you molting?”

Techno paused and looked up. Philza was watching him, claws drumming against the table and head tilted.

“Huh?” 

“Are you molting?” Philza asked again. 

Techno squinted at him, then looked down at his brush. Okay, fair. He shed a lot. 

“No,” he said. “After a while, the strands just fall out and regrow.” He went back to brushing. His hair was thick, so it always took a while. At least his hair wasn’t like Tommy’s - having thick hair was one thing. Having curls? Terrible. Terrible thought. 

“Ah,” the avian said. “Feathers molt in cycles, so I assumed, uh…”

“You assumed wrong, then.” 

“I suppose I did. You are a different species, after all.” 

Techno shrugged, having nothing more to say about that. 

“I’m sorry we haven’t found your brother yet.” 

“Why does it matter to you?” Techno bundled the other half of his hair into a fist so he could brush the ends without tearing his hair out and dying on the spot. 

“Because he’s your brother.” 

“And? I’m the one who got bit.” Techno blew a loose section out of his face. Where had that come from? Philza was watching him, looking curious. Techno tried to ignore him, still brushing his hair. Finally he was done, and the braiding had to be done again. 

“I can help,” the captain said, moving closer, but Techno flinched away. 

There was a pause. 

Techno could remember what it felt like to have his hair be used against him. He didn’t want to remember. Hence why he had pulled back, fingers tangled through the beginning of his braid. 

Philza tilted his head. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

“Fine,” Techno mumbled, and got up to check on his dogs. 

They were very excited upon seeing him, and he found himself mostly buried under the giant mass of fur and big honking dogs once he’d sat down. 

Techno spat out dog hair with a scowl, checking over each dog to make sure they were alright. And, yeah, they seemed okay. A little hyper, obviously, but it looked like they’d been given water, and weren’t acting hungry. Steve nosed at his face, which, okay, Techno appreciated the concern, but it wasn’t like he’d been dead.

Just maybe dying. And hallucinating. Or had he been unconscious the whole time? Come to think of it, Techno wasn’t actually sure. He remembered the ocean. He remembered the feel of Tommy’s hand in his. He remembered-

The whine of lights, harsh in the darkness. Blood dripping against white porcelain. The thud of a body hitting the ground. 

Techno flinched when Steve nosed him again, weight pressing him down. 

Techno was glad for the attention pulling him out of his thoughts, but guilt twisted in his stomach as he smoothed the fur on Steve’s head. The dog knew nothing of Before. He didn’t really know the hell-promised person he was trying to comfort. 

Techno doubted that anyone really knew him at this point. Least of all Tommy.

Chapter Text

Tommy had decided he was going to take matters into his own hands. He had been abducted by aliens - well then, he was going to sabotage their spaceship. He’d get away, somehow, and see if he could get passage back home.

Except…

Did he even want to go home? His past was a mystery even to himself and he was starting to wonder if there was something like Stockholm Syndrome going on in his subconscious. Thinking of his brother- of Techno, made him feel weird and vaguely sick. Did he really want to go back to that? What else was he supposed to do? 

Well…

He didn’t have to go back to Earth. What did he have back there, anyway? Nothing that he was assured of, at least.

Here, Tommy had an alien souvenir necklace, a set of lock picks, a hole in his skull, and a can-do attitude. His life was going to be what he made of it. He was tired of being thrown about in the wind- he was seizing his future in both hands, goddammit, and he was going to take control. He wasn’t going to let some oversized ants dictate how the rest of his life would play out. 

So, naturally, Tommy caused problems. 

Door to what looked to be the engine room unlocked, Tommy - not caring very much about his safety - unstrung a handful of washers off his necklace and stepped up to the engine. Was this dangerous? Oh, undoubtedly! 

But Tommy didn’t care. He unscrewed what was probably the fuel cap (ignoring the hum of a running piece of machinery) and dropped the metal in. 

A few minutes later, the whole ship began to shake. 

Tommy ran, heedless to the alarms blaring in his ears as the ship filled with the sound of shouting and confusion, Dream and Sapnap arguing furiously as George entered the room Tommy was pretending to have always been in. 

“What’s happening, big man?” Tommy asked, fiddling with his necklace and hoping George wouldn’t notice the missing section. 

“Apparently the engine decided to die,” George replied, legs splayed completely out so he wouldn’t topple. “Something foreign in the fuel and it automatically went into shutdown.” he clicked his legs angrily. “We’re not too far from the nearest livable planet, so everything should be fine.” 

“Oh,” Tommy said. “Are we, uh, in your territory yet?”

“No.” 

Tommy kept the excitement off his face. Instead he broadcasted fear through the twitch of his fingers, letting George see and not suspect something more was at play. 

“Where are we, then?” 

“Uh…. planet in satyr territory. Kwarwe-Niebo, I think.”

“George!” Sapnap hollered, and one side of the ship seemed to go down. Tommy slid, hurriedly clambering up what had previously been the wall as the beanbags slid down as well. George, having the advantage of twice as many limbs, had latched onto the doorway and was pulling himself up through it. 

“Stay there!” The alien shouted down at Tommy. “If the hull begins to break, call for someone!”

Oh, that was reassuring. 

As Tommy waited, he darted back and forth on all fours to avoid other objects crashing down from the cupboards around the room. Like a very dangerous video game. Yippee.

The scrambling was cut short when the cupboard itself fell and caught one of Tommy’s legs, wrenching the knee out of place and making him scream. Pain exploded through his leg.

“Tommy, you-” George reappeared. “Tommy!” He skittered down, hauling the cupboard off. “Are you alright? Nothing cracked?”

Tommy tried to stand, then whimpered and fell again. Nope, nope nope nope, he wasn’t looking down, he wasn’t-

He looked down. Oh boy- oh shit fuck that was blood. There was blood- yep, that was bone, that was his fibula poking out-

Tommy threw up.

“Verde, oh no, no that’s not good.” George huffed, then picked Tommy up and slung him over his back. Where Tommy’s head dangled, he could see the underside of the alien’s… uh… abdomen? It looked like a grasshopper’s thingy, softer than the regular shell and pulsing slightly.

Tommy was hyperfocusing on anatomy so he wouldn’t throw up again. Or pass out. He couldn’t breathe, grabbing wildly onto George’s legs so he wouldn’t fall as the alien scrambled up the wall and into the hallway. 

“Tommy’s hurt!” George said.

“He’s- no, no, say you’re lying George!” Dream stuck his head out of the engine room and did a full-body shudder of despair. “No. XD’s going to kill me.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy croaked, trying to think through the waves of pain. “Yep. My bones are out.” 

“Bone. Singular.” George poked something that erupted in a scream via Tommy’s throat.

“George, don’t poke it!” Sapnap shouted. There was a crash. “Get him into the bridge and prepare for re-entry!”

What with the shaking of his leg, Tommy had begun to lose consciousness by the time George strapped him into a chair, excruciating pain ripping through him as the ship rattled. Lights were flashing and alarms blared, letting Tommy know just how much he’d fucked up.

Trying to breathe, he could hear a strange sound, like the squeak of a toy being slowly crushed under a dog’s body. 

No, wait, that was him, whimpering in pain. He didn’t judge himself, though. Making noises was one of the few ways he could process the agony- as well as let everyone else know how he was feeling. 

There was a hand in his hair. Tommy opened his eyes, blinking through the swirling of his vision. His brother was standing there, hair falling blonde and choppy in his face. 

“Hey,” Tommy murmured. “Hey Theo.” 

A small smile. 

“Hey Tommy. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Tommy blinked, leaning into the hand. 

“Where did you go?” He asked. The throb of his leg seemed like a distant memory. 

“Wherever the people you lose go,” Tommy’s brother said, sitting down in the chair next to him. “That spot when you’re not quite awake but you’re not exactly asleep either.” He nudged against Tommy’s shoulder. “That’s the only way I’m here, you know.” 

Tommy sighed. 

“Yeah.” He leaned back. “Can’t you stay longer?” 

“Tommy? Tommy!”

Tommy opened his eyes. Sapnap and George were unbuckling him, the pain returning in full force as he was slung over George’s back.

“No,” he mumbled, grabbing at nothing as the world grew black. “No, no, let me- I wanna stay, I wanna stay with my brother.”

“No, Tommy.” There was a hand around his wrist, pulling him back. “You’re imagining things.” 

Tommy grumbled and whined again as pain twisted along his body. 

“Who are we supposed to take him to?” The world was still dark, occasionally lit with pale yellow lights. 

“XD’s going to kill me-”

“Sap, you need to ask around for one of your doctors. This place is close to End, maybe-”

The voices wobbled in and out of Tommy’s hearing. Sometimes they sounded like the rattle-rattle-click of grasshoppers, or the warble-warp of people talking underwater. It all twined in and out, lacing into a fabric that left Tommy dazed and confused every time he opened his eyes. 

The first time he did, there was a face hovering over his own, mostly wrapped in a red-yellow-black scarf and with dark eyes that inspected him like he was a rather interesting insect pinned to a collection board. Tommy closed his eyes.

“-you’re not involved with those nasty-”

Tommy opened his eyes.

Sapnap was bending over him, very close. He smelled kind of like incense, though why he would left Tommy closing his eyes again.

“Don’t struggle, alright? Ponk’s trying to help you, and they’re the only doctor I could find.” 

When Tommy opened his eyes again, he was on his back. The face with the scarf had a body now, curled over a mangled, bloody mess that was only faintly rememberable as a leg. 

“-could try to sew it together, but the threads would likely be rejected and lead to an immune response. The leg would be lost anyway-”

Sapnap looked over and his tail lashed. 

“Ponk, the kid’s still awake.” 

A muttered swear as the stranger stood, and a few seconds later there was the smell of almond. 

Tommy shut his eyes and tried to ignore the tugging of tendons on bone.

There was a hand in his hair. Smoothing sweaty curls, trailing down to wipe away tears.

“It hurts,” Tommy croaked. 

“I know,” his brother said. 

Tommy opened his eyes. He could see his brother sitting next to him, feet tucked under so his knee nearly brushed against Tommy’s face.

“I wanna go home,” Tommy said, voice broken. There was a tug on his knee and he whimpered, the sound being drawn out of him into a higher, strained scream. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not,” another voice said. Tommy looked over and that was Techno standing there, arms crossed and covered with a leather jacket. “It’s never going to be okay. You know that.” 

Tommy pulled his gaze back to his brother, who frowned slightly. Cuts were opening up on his arms, gashes spilling red red red down his skin. 

“Theo-”

“I told you not to say that name,” Techno said sharply. His hands were red. His hands were red. 

Tommy jerked his head back again but it was too late, the room was empty, there was only Techno with the blood on his hands, on Tommy’s skin as hair was pushed back blood blood blood-

“You hurt him,” Tommy whimpered. “You hurt him and you took me and you killed him -” He surged up.

“Tommy!” There were hands pressing his shoulders back down. “Tommy, no Tommy, you can’t get up.”

“I want my brother!” Tommy shouted, the words drawing up and out into a hysterical scream. “I want my brother! Give him back!”

“Can’t you sedate him again?” Sapnap threw over his shoulder. Tommy kicked out with his free leg, the other red jasper and unmoving in front of him (there was a crash) all he could see was blood, blood blood blood under his hands blooming from skin dying his brother’s hair sickly seeping puddles under a streetlamp- 

“Any more and I might kill him! Just keep him down, I’m almost finished.” 

There was an arm over Tommy’s face and he bit down on instinct, feeling bitter juice seep between his teeth and pooling in his mouth. 

“Agh- the fucker’s got fangs!” 

“The sedative’s wearing off, just keep him down while he adjusts!”

“Don’t you have restraints or something?”

“I don’t have any that small, I’m not a pediatrician!” 

Pressure, pressure on his chest, on his head, pushing at his ribs (he couldn’t breathe)-

Tommy clawed at the weight with his nails, barely thinking through the pain and the flickers of blonde and pink in the corners of his vision, dark everything was going dark everything was- 

Pain burst through him again and Tommy couldn’t help it anymore. He let the sea drag him back into safety, down down down where bones were but a distant memory and oblivion was gentle against his skin, sweeping pain away to replace with the chill of water and night. 

He didn’t lose consciousness so much as pushed it frantically away from him, the sea crashing the past and his present into a thousand forgettable pieces.

Techno was restless. He felt on edge , like something dreadfully important was happening just out of his awareness, and between worry and wanting was the big H: hyperactivity. He paced, fingers drumming at his sides. When he did sit, it was with bouncing legs and easy rhythm of up-around-down up-around-down over there-back again, all of him humming with the need to move, to do something, cause otherwise he’d probably die. 

Was that an exaggeration? Maybe a little bit. It felt plenty true.

However, Techno’s strangely frantic energy was starting to rub off on the rest of the crew. 

Not that he noticed, of course, until he heard arguing. Loud, and sharp, and accompanied by the click-click-click of claws on floor. 

The avians.

Techno, now with something to throw his energy in, stood outside the door and listened. He couldn’t hear specifics, exactly, since the conversation was going too fast for his translator to pick up, but he glanced in. They looked angry. 

Or, at least, Philza did. Wings puffed, talons stretching out as Wilbur protested, looking less angry and more upset. Upset, small and tucked away.

Techno, mind racing, put pieces together. He stepped into the room, fear overtaken by protective fury. His fists curled. 

“Hey,” he said. The pair’s arguing stopped, voices fading as two pairs of eyes went to Techno. Brown and blue. Now, that was a familiar thing.

“Hey mate,” Philza said slowly. “Do you need something?” 

“No,” Techno said. Philza blinked, and glanced to Wilbur, who looked rather like he wanted to disappear. Techno understood that feeling very well.

“Well, uh, if you don’t need anything, this is a conversation I’d like to keep between me and my son.” 

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” Techno said. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Just go away,” Wilbur muttered, rubbing one of his arms. 

“Wil,” Philza snapped, and Techno took a few steps so he was in between them, hackles up. “What are you doing?”

“Leave him alone,” Techno growled. Philza took a step and Techno stepped back, arms going out. Philza made a soft, almost amused sound.

“Mate, it’s not like I’m going to-”

And then the alien froze. He quite honestly looked like a movie someone had paused, if a paused movie was able to frown, more and more as the moments drew on. Techno kept one eye on his hands, since those claws could do some nasty damage if they got too close. 

“You…” Philza said the words slowly, as if making sure he was pronouncing them correctly. “Did you think I was going to hurt Wil?” 

Techno growled, louder, as the avian took another step. 

“Don’t.” 

Wilbur was behind him. He had to stay between them.

Philza held his hands up.

“Alright, alright.” He stepped back, wings going down. “I do have to ask, though. Why did you think I was going to hurt Wilbur?” 

Techno, barely confused as to what was going on, bared his teeth.

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because he’s my son.” Philza shook his head, then settled his gaze on Techno again. His hands lowered, slightly, and his expression changed. To something soft. “Mate-”

Right, time to leave. Techno began to walk out, sparing a glance over his shoulder.

“Go,” he said to Wilbur, who was watching this with a confused expression. 

And then he left. 

Tubbo looked up as Techno approached.

“Uh. Hey, bossman, what’s up?” 

“Where’s a place I can go to be alone?” Techno asked. Tubbo squinted at him. 

“Your cabin?”

“Someplace people wouldn’t think of to look for me.” Techno glanced to the side, as if expecting to find a pair of red-black-green wings at his shoulder. 

“Oh. Uh…” Tubbo clicked his tongue thoughtfully. “Boo, do you still have the observation deck?”

“Yeah, actually.” Ranboo, who’d been sitting in the room as well, looked up. “It’s where it always is.” 

“Great.” Tubbo nodded at the ceiling. “There’s a ladder in the hallway outside, it goes up to the observation deck.”

“Why does a cargo ship need an observation deck?” Techno asked. Tubbo cracked a grin. 

“Phil said he likes seeing the stars.” 

Techno went to the observation deck. Up the ladder, and onto a bare floor. Okay, not all the way bare. It was laid with cushions, which meant it wasn’t super uncomfortable when Techno sat down and laid back, hands folded over his stomach as he looked up. Oh. Oh. The roof here was translucent, leaving all of space visible. The galaxy was thrown across the darkness like silver glitter, resembling a field of fireflies. At least, what Techno imagined fireflies looked like. He’d never actually seen fireflies. 

Space was nice. Okay, that was a stupid description. The more Techno watched, the more he thought it looked like the sea. The stars glittered like grit on the sandy floor, glittering back and forth. Waves of energy and gravity, batting against the sides of the ship. 

There was a creak. Techno sat up and couldn’t help pulling back upon seeing the feathery head of one Captain Philza. 

“Hi,” Philza said. “Tubbo told me you were up here.”

“Little traitor,” Techno muttered, pulling his legs closer in case he needed to get up fast.

The avian, however, sat a safe distance away, talons curled in and fingers laced in his lap. Techno tried to ignore him, looking away. At least, he ignored the captain until the silence was broken. 

“Someone hurt you,” Philza said. “Didn’t they?” 

Techno continued to look away. Unconsciously, though, he began to pick at the dead skin around his nails. 

“Why does that matter?” He muttered. 

There was a pause, and a breath. 

“It was your parents.” 

Techno froze. Wire. Bruises. A hand wrapped in his hair, dragging him across the floor. 

He swallowed back a sound. A whine, maybe. 

“You were trying to protect Wilbur,” Philza said. “From me. That’s- that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time. Trying to protect people. And you assumed that-” 

“You were hurting them,” Techno finished. “You’re in a position of power- you have influence. Whose word would they believe?”

A breath. 

“Ah.” Philza shook his head slowly, then tugged the collar of his shirt down to tap at a spot on his neck. Techno, oddly enough, realized that the avian had two thumbs, one on each side of his hand. “I’m not a stranger to being hurt. I’d never purposefully inflict that kind of thing on anyone, much less my own son.”

“I don’t believe you,” Techno said. Philza shrugged.

“Alright, that’s fair. But still. Look.” He scooted closer, pointing to his ankles. Techno slowly dragged his gaze down, and tried to figure out what he was looking at. 

Avian skin, he’d figured out, was… odd. Rougher than human skin, almost scaly, and alternatively light and dark in patches on Phil. 

The greyness of the avian’s talons, however, was broken up by a thick ring of paler scar tissue on both legs, nearly hidden by black feathers. The pale rings were also on both wrists, when Techno’s eyes darted over those places, and the base of the captain’s neck. 

Techno tried to remember how to breathe. 

“What happened?”

Philza shrugged as if it was no big deal, even as his fingers drummed together.

“I barely remember, it was so long ago. Let’s just say I wasn’t born on the best planet.”

“Oh.” Techno propped his arms on his knees, making himself look smaller as if that actually worked. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because we’re not so different,” Philza said. “And maybe if you trust me more, it’ll be easier to find your brother. I have… experience, with dreamons.” he held one hand out, as if ready to shake. “Well?”

Techno considered it. He inspected the avian’s hand- the greyish skin, the dulled claws, two thumbs that would make gripping things easier, the scarred ring at the base of the wrist.

“I have to think,” he said finally. He got up and went back down the ladder, going to get a drink. 

In the kitchen, however, Wilbur was still standing. He looked slightly more angry now, arms folded as Techno fiddled with the water dispenser. 

“Was Phil with you?” the other avian asked after a few minutes. Something about his voice seemed strained, but Techno couldn’t place why. 

“Uh… yeah.” Techno absently wiped some stray droplets off the counter. “He wanted to talk.” 

“About what?” 

Techno shrugged, then realized now would be a good time to confirm what Philza had been claiming. He let out a breath, and turned to catch Wilbur’s gaze.

“Does he hurt you?” 

Wilbur blinked, letting out a soft sound.

“What?”

“Does he hurt you,” Techno repeated. 

“Phil? Does Phil-” Wilbur shook his head, what sounded like a mildly-hysterical laugh leaving his mouth. “No! Of course not! Why would he?” 

And with that, the last of that worry dripped out of Techno, pooling around his feet like seawater. He sighed. 

“It’s… it’s nothing.” He set the cup down. “I have to go.”

Philza was still on the observation deck. His head was tipped back, wings laid out across the floor. His eyes looked like the sea. 

Then he looked down and saw Techno.

“Hey mate. Finished thinking?” 

“Yeah.” Techno pulled himself up all the way, sitting down on a cushion with his legs folded beneath him. “I think… I think I can trust you.”

Philza smiled, and held his hand out. Techno didn’t take it- not yet.

“I don’t trust you,” Techno said. He held his fingers up, leaving a breath of space between the prints. “I trust you, maybe, this much.” 

Philza gave him a look.

“But,” Techno said, “I think I can try. To trust you.” 

The avian shrugged. 

“Works for me.”

Techno took his hand. It felt weird - the second thumb brushed against his smallest finger, and he wasn’t used to that. But it was warm.

“I think I can trust you, Captain Philza,” he said, more to himself than the alien across from him.

“Oh, mate, none of that.” Philza smiled, and his teeth didn’t seem nearly as sharp as before. “Call me Phil.”

Chapter Text

When Tommy woke up, he could only feel one of his feet. He let out a strangled whine as he opened his eyes, pain returning in full force. 

The world around him was white. The light was a pale orange on the whiteness, turning specks of dust into living embers. 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His mouth tasted like dead animal, the smell of almonds choking in his nose. And then he looked down

His legs were covered by a quilt. At least, it looked like a quilt, with fabric sewn in a checkerboard pattern. The fabric itself, red and black, was pooled and tented over flesh and bone. Tommy blinked, and quizzically wiggled his feet. No, not feet. Foot. There was only one peak under the blanket, only one set of toes that responded when he tried to move them.

Tommy let out an unconscious breath, forcing numb fingers to pull the blanket off. 

His right leg was gone. There was a lump of bandages around his knee, but past that, nothing. His jeans were gone, but someone had put a pair of shorts on him instead, tied at the waist. 

Tommy couldn’t breathe. What- how? When? He couldn’t remember anything after sabotaging the ship’s engine. And now he was clearly not on the ship.

And now he was missing a leg.

Things began to settle in, and Tommy stuffed a fist in his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. His leg was gone. He couldn’t walk. How was he supposed to escape now? He couldn’t fucking walk.  

He had to get out of here.

Tommy hauled himself off the bed, leaning against the wall. Okay. Okay. He could do this. He could try and figure out what to do- he wasn’t being guarded, it looked like. Maybe he could make it out without-

The door rattled. Tommy tried to take a step back, forgot that one of his legs was gone, and promptly ate shit.

“Fuck!” He shouted, face pressed to the floor.

“I’d say you should watch your language, but I think in this case you deserve it.” 

Tommy looked up and scrambled back, forgetting how to breathe. There was an alien standing in front of him, and it was huge, ducking so its horns wouldn’t scrape the ceiling and black everywhere but its eyes, which were white and empty. The alien also had a scarf around their shoulders, black and white squares making a dizzying pattern. 

“What are you?” Tommy whispered, and one of the alien’s ears flicked. 

“Sapnap’s father. Didn’t he mention me?”

Tommy shook his head. 

“He didn’t mention that you were, uh, gigantic.” 

“Of course not.” The alien took a step or two forward, eventually holding out a hand. “But I suppose I would be, to a human. You can call me Bad. Come on, I was sent to get you.” 

“Where am I going?” Tommy demanded, not taking the hand. It was probably bigger than his whole head, and by a lot.

“To meet Drista,” Bad explained. Tommy frowned. 

“So I’m…” 

A soft sound, and Bad knelt more fully. 

“Yes, I’m afraid. You’re on Centro Verde, in the capital city of Maior Colmena.” 

Dreamon territory. Tommy had failed. He sighed, head drooping. 

“Oh. Uh… how am I supposed to walk?” 

“You’re not,” Bad said. “I can carry you.” 

At first Tommy protested, but eventually relented and ended up perched on the alien’s shoulders, holding on to one of the curling horns so he wouldn’t fall off. 

Outside the room, the ceilings were much higher, so Tommy didn’t have to duck. He looked around, taking in the sight. The building they were in was made of wood, or some substance that looked like wood, grayish white and streaked with layers like a wasp’s nest. Maybe that was what it was. The dreamons looked an awful lot like bugs, after all.

The building had windows, too, set into the roof and streaming pale orange light down into Tommy’s head and shoulders. He basked in the warmth, since he couldn’t remember how long it had been since the ocean planet. 

But as nice as the light was, there was the question of the alien beneath him. So he pulled his focus away from the sun and the sea. As Bad walked, Tommy watched him. He had a sure enough gait, with steady strides, but occasionally he’d reach out as if to make sure the wall was still there, or stop and pause for a few minutes at an intersection before continuing again.

Tommy tilted his head, then waved a hand in front of the alien’s eyes.

“That’s not very polite,” Bad said, raising one hand and carefully finding his hand to pull it away. Tommy frowned at him.

“You're blind, aren’t you?” 

“Why does that matter?” 

“You seem really…” 

“Capable?” Bad guessed, voice dry. “It comes with practice, little muffin. That’s something you’ll need to learn.” 

Tommy snorted.

“Why? Because I’m-”

Then he paused, and looked down. Right. 

“It takes getting used to,” Bad said. “I know.”

“What happened?” Tommy asked.

“My planet was invaded,” Bad said lightly. “My village was bombarded with chemical weapons, and I was blinded. The rest of my clan exchanged our freedom for me getting medical attention.” 

“Oh.” Tommy absently swung his leg. “Am I going to walk again?”

“If you want to,” Bad said. “You were Drista’s main demand for the last two years- she’d likely provide crutches, a prosthetic, wheelchairs, whatever you need.” 

“How about my leg back?” Tommy joked half-heartedly. “You’re aliens, right?”

“Well, if you were on Wielka-Matka, maybe. Dreamon medical technology is… not that advanced.” 

A pause.

“Ah,” Tommy said. “Well. Guess I’ll have to get used to stumpy here, then.” Mustering the strength to do so, he lightly patted his bandaged knee. It hurt. Ow. 

“Leg gone, but sense of humor intact,” Bad joked. “Tell me, there’s a doorway marked with a green banner up ahead, right?” 

“Uh…” Tommy looked up, squinting down to the end of a hall. It wasn’t like he had bad eyesight, the air was just really dusty. “Sure looks like there is.” 

“Good. Sometimes they add rooms, and then I have to find the way again.” Bad laughed, the sound surprisingly cheerful for a blinded refugee being kept as a pet by a warlord. “You would not believe how hard it is to get around in a place where the ceilings aren’t high enough and the walls all feel the same.”

“I’d get lost, and I still have working eyes,” Tommy said. “Why is it so hard to see in here?”

 “Oh, the dust, right.” Bad’s ears flicked, one whapping into Tommy’s arm. “Sorry.”

“No problem, big man.”

“Maior Colmena was built in the Drylands,” Bad explained. “There’s little rainfall, few plants, and high erosion. Lots of dust storms.”

Tommy sneezed.

“Scuse me.” 

“You’re ‘scused,” Bad said, and raised his voice as the doorway became considerably closer in a few strides. “Hey! Guys!”

Several heads popped out of the doorway- one blue, one the color of cinnamon sugar, one green and black. 

“Bad!” the blue head said cheerfully. “You’re back!”

“And you have a friend,” the green-black head said. 

“New compatriot, more like.” Bad reached up, and Tommy huffed and dangled as he was picked up off the alien’s shoulders and put down to balance unevenly on the floor. It felt dry and papery under his bare foot. “This little muffin is… Tommy, right?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, now grateful Bad had stayed nearby so he could hang on the alien’s arm. “I’m Tommy.” 

The heads, now with bodies attached, came out and introduced themselves in a mashed-up blur. The blue and cinnamon-sugar heads belonged to aliens that looked like Bad, albeit different sizes and with different faces and whatnot. The green head belonged to a new species, one with large wings folded against its back and large talons instead of feet. 

Tommy, searching his memories, shrank back a little. Avian. The ones who ‘could gut a man with the same effort it takes to pull a weed’, according to Sapnap.

The avian was watching him intently with black, black eyes under shaggy green hair. There was a collar around its neck, when Tommy looked closely, all shiny and gold. 

“Hullo,” Tommy said, sticking close to Bad’s side. 

“Oh, you’re little,” the avian said. 

“Sam,” Bad said scoldingly, and the avian shrugged. 

“It’s true.”

“Tommy, this weirdo is Sam,” Bad explained. “He’s an avian.”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “I noticed.”

A pause, and from the blue head (whatever his name was)-

“Sapnap was telling you horror stories, wasn’t he? That little-”

“Skeppy,” Bad said. 

“Bad,” the alien- Skeppy?- mimicked. “Anyway, Sam here’s a doofus-”

“Hey!” Sam elbowed Skeppy. “Am not!”

“Skeppy’s trying to say he won’t hurt you,” the cinnamon-sugar alien said, ears twitching. He was the largest of the bunch, and looked kind of like one of the stray cats Tommy would see darting around the yard at night. A siamese, maybe, with hands and feet (did he have hooves?) a darker color than the rest of him. “None of us will. You’re safe enough here, or at least safer than you were…” he nodded at Tommy’s missing leg. “Wherever you came from.”

“I was born on Earth,” Tommy snapped. “And this didn’t happen until I was kidnapped, thank you very much.” 

“Okay,” Sam said, slapping a hand over Skeppy’s mouth to quiet the argument they’d been having, “Introductions are nice and all, but I’m pretty sure Sapnap and his crew will be skinned alive if Tommy stays out here any longer.”

Tommy felt his face get red. 

“I can’t walk, bitch.”

“Language,” Bad chided gently. 

“Eat my dick,” Tommy said without looking up.

“Hey!”

“I’ll carry him,” Skeppy said, and scowled at Bad. “You sit down, you’ve done enough.”

So Tommy was carried piggyback into the next room. This was the largest Tommy had seen yet, with a higher ceiling and what looked like a throne at one end. When Tommy peered around Skeppy’s head he could see the largest dreamon yet curled up on the throne, with Dream, George, and Sapnap all talking below it. 

“Folks!” Skeppy said, drawing the group's attention. “I’m sure you’re all having fun, but there’s someone here you’ve been expecting.”

Sapnap looked over, and his ears flicked up.

“Tommy!” 

“Because I’m chopped roots,” Skeppy muttered. A tapping noise, and Dream appeared, looking up and brushing one of his creepy bug hands against Tommy’s arm.

“You’re okay!”

“Okay enough,” Tommy said, wiggling his stump. No, wait. He could feel his leg still? It kicked out at Dream, but since it wasn’t real, nothing happened. “I can still feel my leg?” 

“Phantom limb.” 

At the new voice, Tommy looked over. This had come from the dreamon on the throne, who stood and skittered over. Skeppy pulled Tommy off as the dreamon approached, and Tommy himself cursed and leaned heavily on Dream as the stranger got nearer. 

“Bow,” Dream said quietly. Tommy, now realizing this must be XD, couldn’t bow, but he dipped his head. The dreamon warlord was taller than him- than Skeppy, even, and a more intimidating sight with a golden crown that looked like a fence.

“Phantom limb, huh?” XD stopped, and unfolded one of his smaller arms to knock against one of his legs. It was fake, now that Tommy looked closer, made out of a shiny plastic-looking material with embedded emeralds. “It goes away eventually.” 

“Human! It’s the human!” A smaller white shape hopped off the dias, nearly plowing into XD’s side before clambering onto his green-covered back. This dreamon- it was a dreamon- had almost a yellow carapace, body shrouded in green fabric and with a smaller crown made of rings. 

“Yes, Drista,” XD said, posture making his tone flat. “The human has finally arrived.” 

Right, Tommy remembered Drista. She was just as excitable in person, it seemed.

Drista leaned forward, and poked at Tommy’s bandages before he pulled away. 

“Ah! Don’t!”

“You only have one leg,” Drista said, wings (she had wings? None of the other dreamons did) fluttering in confusion. “I thought humans had two.”

Tommy reddened and looked away. 

“I-it’s recent, alright?” 

“Drista, that’s not nice,” Skeppy said. “It’s not Tommy’s fault.” 

The two dreamons inspected Tommy more closely. 

“You’re filthy,” XD muttered. 

“You’re tall!” Drista said cheerfully. Then she tilted her head. “But you don’t have your tracker.”

Tommy blinked.

“Tracker?” 

Skeppy sighed, and when Tommy looked up, the alien pulled away a bright blue scarf to tap a collar around his neck. It was gold like XD’s false leg, with a small flashing light that was, like always, green. 

“It’s so we don’t get ‘lost’,” Skeppy said. “It’s happened before.”

“Oh.” Part of Tommy crawled at the idea of having a collar around his neck, always having the dreamons know where he was. How was he going to escape like that? 

“Anyway,” Dream said. “We all know each other, Tommy’s clearly okay, so… we get our money, right?” 

“It depends,” XD said. “The rest of the cargo arrived safely?” 

“Yes.” Dream transferred Tommy’s weight back to Skeppy, who cursed in time with Tommy himself as they both wobbled. “We can unload it now that Tommy’s awake.”

“How long have I been here?” Tommy asked, looking over to Skeppy.

“A day,” Skeppy said. “But you were in an accelerated-healing chamber for several hours, so it probably feels like it was longer.” 

Tommy sagged, then, remembering the dryness of his mouth and the emptiness of his stomach. 

“Right,” Sapnap said. “Skep, will you take Tommy to the quarters and get him fed and whatever?”

“Oh, sure,” Skeppy said, “but I can’t guarantee we’ll find a pair of pants that fits.” 

Sapnap tilted his head, then nodded.

“Oh, right, right, he doesn’t have a tail. Borrow some of Sam’s shorts if you have to, I don’t think he’ll care.”

“I won’t,” Tommy croaked. “I just don’t want to have to sleep in jeans.”

“Ugh,” Skeppy said, “denim. Anyway, off we go.” 

Tommy riding piggyback again, the pair trekked through the palace. Skeppy pointed out important road signs and interesting things as they walked, ducked low doorways, and stepped around dreamons scuttling back and forth. 

“Hey, why does Drista have wings but the others don’t?” Tommy asked, watching a winged dreamon go by.  

“Hm? Oh, I don’t know. Same reason she’s a princess, I guess.” Skeppy came to a much taller door, then put a code into a pad with buttons labeled with a series of dots and dashes. There was a click, and the alien pushed the door open. 

Tommy blinked and squinted as they entered the room beyond. The ceiling was draped in dark red fabric, making it seem darker even as there was another, more sheer curtain drawn over the window. The floor here was lined in thick carpet, muffling Skeppy’s footsteps, and large cushions or chairs built for people much larger than Tommy sat pushed up against the walls. Here, the aliens he’d met previously were sitting, chatting and doing other chores like mending clothes or making food. 

“Oh, Skeppy!” Bad looked up from where he’d been shucking what looked like oversized peapods with small, dark brown kernels inside. “Is Tommy with you?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “What’s up, big man?” 

The group paused, then, as one, and Bad sighed. 

“There’s two more people you haven’t met. They’re satyrs.”

*****

Techno resisted the urge to slam the table over. 

“What?” 

“The ship with Tommy reached dreamon territory,” Ranboo said meekly, tablet clutched to his chest. “Sometime last night.” 

Techno wanted to break something. He wanted to break someone, because that was Tommy, his brother, his Tommy, and he was out of reach. 

Instead, though, he curled his fists at his sides, and pushed all of everything into a knot that swirled behind his sternum. 

“How long until we reach it?” He asked.

Ranboo blinked, and his ears pinned back.

“We can’t go into dreamon territory, that’s a death wish.”

“I don’t care!” Techno snapped, and whirled to stalk to the bridge. Ranboo trailed after him like an anxious, overly-tall shadow. 

Philza- Phil- was sitting in a chair, reading some maps or something else and looking away.

“Captain,” Techno said sharply. 

The avian paused, and turned around.

“Oh, hey. What’s wrong?”

“He wants to go to dreamon territory,” Ranboo said meekly.

And Philza paled. His fingers constricted around the armrests of his chair, feathers pulling in so he looked smaller, as if trying to hide. 

“Why,” he said, “would you ever want to go there?” 

“Because Tommy is there. We need to get him.”

Philza stood.

“You aren’t the captain,” he said, and his voice was empty. “We are not going anywhere.”

“You brought me here so that I could get him back!” 

“I never agreed to go into Green territory!” 

“I am not losing my brother again!” Techno shouted.

“Your brother is as good as dead!” Philza shouted back.

The world shifted, and rolled out from under Techno’s feet. He’d just hit the ground, but when he blinked, he was somehow still standing. 

“What?” His voice cracked at the end, like he was a kid again, like he was fifteen again and Tommy was- Tommy was-

Philza sighed, and looked down. His wings rolled out slightly, the joints extending and then folding back in. 

“I’m sorry. If your brother was taken by Greens, if he’s on Centro Verde- then I don’t think you’ll see him again.”

“How do you know that?” Techno demanded.

“Getting out of there was dangerous sixty years ago,” the avian snapped back. “it would be a death wish going in now.” 

Techno leaned in close. He was tall, sure, but he towered over Philza.

“Death,” he growled, “might be preferable.” 

Philza regarded him coldly. There was absolutely nothing behind his eyes. 

“You’re not the only one who’s lost family to the dreamon warlords,” he said. “You’re not alone, mate, and sometimes you have to accept things as they come.” 

Techno held his gaze for a long, long moment. 

Finally he turned to Ranboo, who was still watching as though the argument was a particularly horrifying train crash. 

“Where’s the nearest inhabited planet?” 

Ranboo blinked.

“What?”

Techno grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down to eye level. 

“The nearest inhabited planet,” he growled. “Where is it?”

Ranboo looked like he’d rather not be here, thanks, but he pulled something up on his tablet and tapped around for a moment.

“Kwarwe-Niebo,” he said finally. “About ten galactic hours away.”

“Great.” Techno let go and stalked out. “Drop me off there.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Philza had followed him, click-click-click and tap-tap-tap showing Ranboo not far behind. 

“I’m sorry, I thought this translator worked.” Techno pushed the door to his cabin open and began to roughly repack his bag, pulling his piglin mask on as he did so. “Drop me off on the nearest planet.”

“And then what?” 

“I’ll figure it out from there.” Techno tested the edge of his axe, then slung it through the loop at the front of the duffel bag. “You don’t want to help me, I’ll do it myself.”

Philza laughed. 

“Mate, you really think you’re going to go to Centro Verde with a half-broken translator and an axe you’ve never used? How are you going to get there?”

Zip.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You can’t read the language, how are you going to find your way around?”

“Ask for directions.”

“You don’t know a single vulture-forsaken thing about the galaxy outside your planet, how do you expect to accomplish anything?”

Techno stood, strap on his shoulder. And turned.

“You,” he said, “don’t want to help me. What, do you want me to give up?” 

Philza folded his arms.

“I’m not about to stand here and watch as you throw yourself away for an idea you’ll never be able to make reality.”

Techno practically snarled. 

“And I’m not about to let you get between me and my brother. Do you know what happened last time someone did?”

Blood on his hands. Running in darkness, the pounding of a heart as he knew nothing would ever be the same. 

“Mate, mate, just calm down-” Philza reached out, but Techno stepped back.

“Touch me and I cut your hands off.”

Philza blinked, then shrugged and slipped his hands into his sleeves. 

“Fine. All I want is to talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Oh, I know.” Philza’s talons absently tapped on the floor, reminding Techno just how much damage they could do pressed to the soft flesh of his belly. “That makes us at an impasse. Here’s the thing, though- I’m still captain, and though you’re human, you’re still outnumbered. Oh, and you can’t fly the ship.” 

Techno huffed angrily, but as the words sunk in he realized…

The avian was right. 

And just like that, Techno wobbled and fell back onto his bed.

Chapter Text

Techno’s legs felt numb, head spinning and threatening blackness fuzzing the corners of his vision. His ears were ringing. 

“You’re not thinking right,” Philza said quietly, and sat next to him on the bed. “I admire how much you care for your brother, I really do. But you can’t help him now. Keep going like this and you’ll destroy yourself.”

“Then what?” Techno was gripping the edge of the bed as if he’d fall into the ocean without it. “Then what am I supposed to do? Without him?”

“You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.”

Techno snorted.

“What? What’s so funny?” 

“I’m not that smart.” Techno sighed a lot slower, glad his face wasn’t visible between the mask and the loose braid falling over one shoulder. “Never even finished public school.” 

A moment. 

“Why not?” Phil asked. Techno shrugged.

“Had to take care of Tommy.” He let out a short breath. “Couldn’t exactly go to school when Tommy needed food on the table.”

“I see.” Phil let out a small chuckling laugh, folding one leg over the other. “I never did standard schooling either.” 

Techno paused, then looked over at him. 

“What?” 

Phil met his gaze, and gave him a little ‘what can you do?’ smile. 

“I didn’t have much of a traditional childhood. I was taught enough to scrape by, but when I got older, I needed to figure out everything practically on my own.”

“And they let you become a spaceship captain?”

“Avians have different rules,” Phil said idly, picking at something in one wing. “It’s not about what you know, it’s about what you’re willing to learn.”

“Mm. Well.” Techno idly twisted his braid between his hands. “It doesn’t matter. I just- I just have to take care of Tommy. Make sure he gets a better life than I do.” He huffed. “Now I just need to get him back, make sure he’s safe.” 

“He will be.” Phil laced his fingers together. “He’s meant to be a pet, of sorts. He wouldn’t be hurt. Just…”

“A prisoner,” Techno finished flatly. “Taken light-years away by strangers to a strange planet where he may or may not be put into dangerous situations because of a lack of knowledge on humans.”

Phil winced.

“I suppose that’s true.” 

So Techno was right. He sighed and set his elbows down on his knees, as if that could protect him from the world. As if it would keep away the waves battering against his senses. 

“Humans are so odd,” Phil murmured, and there was a tug on the end of Techno’s braid. “Are all them as… single-minded as you?” 

“No,” Techno said with a huff. “I’m special.” 

AKA ‘mentally disordered’. Not that it was bad, it just made his experience… Unique. 

There was a different tug, and Techno glanced over. 

“What are you doing?”

Phil held up a hair tie. As if that was an answer.

Like predicted, Techno’s braid promptly unraveled around his shoulders, and he had to push it away before it got under his mask and into his mouth.

“Did you do that on purpose?” He grumbled, taking the hair tie and looping it around one wrist. 

“No,” Phil said. “I didn’t know your hair was so…. Smooth.”

Techno watched him for a moment, frowning slightly as he pulled his hair back.

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” 

“An observation,” Phil said rather defensively. “I don’t know much about humans.”

Techno grunted wordlessly, trying to keep his hair gathered and braid it at the same time. Phil seemed very intrigued by that mess, watching it with pale eyes. 

“What are you looking at?” Techno asked bitterly, unconsciously scratching a scar across the back of his neck. 

“You look like you need help,” the avian pointed out. 

Techno blinked at him.

“And?” 

Phil blinked back. 

“And…. Do you want help?” 

Techno shrugged, looking away and tossing his hair back over his shoulder. He was giving up. It wasn’t like there’d be a lot to make his hair tangled in space, anyway. 

“That’s not much of an answer.” 

“It wasn’t meant to be an answer,” Techno said. “I don’t want anything from you.” 

“But you need the help.” 

It wasn’t a question, or an accusation. It was a statement, settling oddly in Techno’s hearing like he wasn’t quite catching every word. 

His knees were bouncing as he sat there, making the rest of his body shake slightly. Techno didn’t know what to do. He was thinking, sure, but in the flood of everything else it was hard to string anything coherent together.

There was the lightest touch in his hair, and inside Techno froze. His thoughts had narrowed, spiraling and locking into the way nails combed through dyed strands of hair. 

“Do you have family other than Tommy?” Philza asked idly, shifting slightly. He wasn’t really doing anything, not replaiting Techno’s hair or pulling too hard in an effort to make something happen. He was just… there. 

“No,” Techno said, trying to ignore the way the nape of his neck prickled as the more sensitive hairs there were tugged lightly. “Not anymore.” 

His voice may have been a little too rough, a little too much emotion lacing words that should’ve been flat. But either way, the avian merely hummed wordlessly. 

“Are you going to rebraid my hair or just keep playing with it?” Techno asked sharply.

“I don’t know how, mate. I’m trying to figure it out.” 

Techno huffed in annoyance. 

“Don’t give me that. I’ve got feathers, and you can’t do much with those. Or, at least, I never learned how.” 

“You’ve never seen anyone doing hair?” Techno asked flatly. “Or… or doing feathers, or whatever.”

“My and Wilbur’s hair is too short,” Philza said. “Wil’s mom’s is curly, like his, and when it’s like that you can’t do much with it.”

Techno sighed, accepting that explanation for now. 

“Separate the hair into three sections,” he said. “Left section goes over middle, right section goes over middle, repeat until there’s not enough hair to braid. If you braid it too tightly, it hurts, so don’t.” 

“Ah.” With some fumbling, Phil divided Techno’s hair into even sections. “Your hair isn’t straight anymore.” 

“If you leave it in a braid long enough, it holds the shape,” Techno said. 

The avian made a small sound of acknowledgement, and started to braid. 

Techno blinked slowly, finding himself getting oddly tired. Something about the light tugs on his hair, the way fingertips smoothed unruly strands back into place, it actually felt… nice. 

He’d never had anyone do his hair. When it had started growing out he’d been old enough that he’d ended up having to get a hairbrush out of his mom’s bathroom drawer, using rubber bands or string to keep it in a ponytail. No one had cared enough to do it for him. And then After, with him and Tommy, it was just another thing he had to do. Tommy sometimes messed around with his hair, put stuff in it on purpose or backcombed it to see how fluffy it would get (the answer was very fluffy), but never properly did it.

But now there was an alien Techno had known for less than a month sitting behind him, braiding his hair. And it felt nice. 

Techno blinked, slumping forward a little. His scalp was all tingly. Something in him unclenched a little, with the thought that this was a person who cared enough to help him. Like a parent.

And then he very violently shoved that thought away. 

“So you and your brother are alone,” Philza said, fumbling and cursing softly. 

“If you don’t count the dogs.” Speaking of the devil, Bear stuck her head through the door and promptly came to jump up on the bed next to Techno, tail thumping the blankets as she demanded affection. Techno obliged, scratching the black fur between her ears. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Techno’s hand faltered in the moment before he went back to scratching, Bear’s head set on his lap. 

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t know that was a prerequisite for being sorry,” Phil said, sounding amused. 

Techno shrugged. 

“And I still am,” the avian continued. “Everyone deserves a family.”

Techno stiffened. His fingers had clenched in Bear’s fur, other hand curled into a fist in his lap. His bones felt like lead- heavy and immobile, but his heart may have been an overcaffeinated squirrel for the way it jittered in his chest, slamming against his ribs hard enough to hurt. 

“No,” he said. “Not everyone deserves that.” 

Family was the blood that demanded yours be spilled. Family was flesh turned against your own, the genes you would never escape because they were chains around your throat, your wrists, your very cells. Family was a poison tainting your bloodstream, no longer visible but still causing damage every single day. 

Techno repressed a shudder and reached back to pull his hair free of Philza’s grasp. The braid was half-done, barely kept together by Techno’s fingers wrapped around the divide.

“Oh,” the avian said. As though that meant something. 

When there was a touch on Techno’s back he didn’t bother hiding his flinch, pulling away. 

“Touch me again,” he forced out, “and I cut your hands off.”

“Okay. Okay, I won’t.” 

Techno sat there for a moment, trying to breathe. It was easier with the mask on- his face wasn’t visible, leaving his expressions safe from exploitation. But his back was exposed. He’d let hands tangle through his hair, no way of making sure it wouldn’t be used against him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Philza said, voice very soft as though he was talking to a wild animal. “Do you know that?”

Techno was a wild animal. He was a pit bull, born and bred for violence and destruction and taught that lesson through pain. All he knew was the baring of teeth and the ripping of flesh, blood choking in his nose and mouth and between his fingers. Blonde hair severed underhand, a child’s frantic sobbing in his ears. A small hand slipped hesitantly through his bloody fingers. 

“I don’t think I do,” Techno said. 

And he didn’t really deserve to be treated with gentleness either way. 

Bear turned her head to lick Techno’s hand, startling him. He made a face and wiped the dog slobber off on his shirt.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Philza said. “I’m never going to hurt you.” 

Techno paused, then pulled in a huffy little breath and let it out again. 

“I guess- I guess I said I could trust you.” 

There was a small pause. Techno went back to smoothing Bear’s fur, scratching down her neck and under her chin.

“Are you going to cut my hands off?” 

At that, Techno couldn’t help a low chuckle.

“No. For now.” 

Phil went back to braiding his hair. 

At some point, Bear evidently got bored and jumped off the bed, wandering off and leaving Techno sitting with his legs dangling off the bed and his hands wrapped around the edge. He felt… different. Not good, and definitely not bad, just…. Different. It felt like something in him had been smoothed out, knots of tangled emotions unspooling slightly within his layers upon layers of armor and walls. 

Techno wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t used to feeling… calm, or content. Tired, yes. Bored, yes. Understimulated, yes. 

But not content. Not like he could fall asleep, door open and throat exposed, and wake up again with everything okay. With nothing snarling in his chest, no metal under his skin or oceans rushing in his head or sirens in his ears.

Techno didn’t know if he’d ever felt like this. Not After, certainly not Before, reaching all the way up to the day he was born. A linking chain of independence.

He slumped a little, blinking slowly. 

“You alright up there?”

“Mm,” Techno said, which wasn’t a word. But his tongue was heavy and useless in his mouth, and he couldn’t spare the effort to wrestle it into place. He blinked again, and realized just how tired he was. When was the last time he’d slept more than six hours at once?

Not since before Tommy had been taken. The second time. 

“There you are,” Phil murmured as Techno slumped more, thoughts flying apart like opposing magnets pressed together and eyes falling closed. The electricity, the warmth, it pulled him down into an ocean of darkness. A gentle darkness, not smothering and thick. 

Four fingers and two thumbs scratched across Techno’s scalp, and he almost fell over before an arm gently wrapped around him. The arm laid him down on the bed, brushing hair off his face. Techno let out a small mumble sound, already more than halfway to being asleep. 

“It’s okay. There you are, it’s okay. You go to sleep.” 

Something draped over Techno, a little like a blanket but heavier. 

He fell asleep. 

*****

Tommy hung off Skeppy as he was hauled into the next room, blinking as the light lessened even more.

This room looked like a cave. The windows were blacked out entirely, tiny fairy lights strung across the ceiling to add illumination. It was more humid, too, and Tommy breathed deeply to swallow down more of the wet air. 

“Hey,” Skeppy said. “You guys awake?”

Rustling, and Tommy scanned the room. Oh, there was a bed pushed into the corner, with a pile of blankets and a head of dark hair sticking out. 

“Oh, hey Skeppy.”

A thud, and a woman dropped from the ceiling. She grinned brightly, pushing white hair out of her face, then glanced up to Tommy. She blinked.

“Uh… Who is… Who’s this, Skep?”

“My name is Tommy,” Tommy said quietly. “I’m human.”

“Hu-” The woman blinked again, expression flickering as she looked to Skeppy. “He’s just a kid, Skeppy. What’s he doing here?”

She had horns. Dark, and spiraling out from her curly hair above ears that curved and flicked like a sheep. Not human. 

“Drista wanted a human,” Skeppy said. 

And the woman’s face fell. She had a nice face. It was a pity she seemed so sad. 

“Oh. Well, my name’s Puffy, Tommy. The sleeping lazybones over there-” She nodded to the bed. “-is Schlatt.”

“What were you doing on the ceiling?” Tommy asked curiously, climbing off Skeppy’s back and leaning on the alien’s arm.

“Repairs,” Puffy said briskly, turning and walking to the bed. Then she promptly yanked all the blankets off, dumping them on the floor.

The sleeping person (Schlatt?) immediately jerked upright, frantically looking around.

“Huh? The fuck?” 

“We have guests,” Puffy said. 

“You- fucking bitch, I have a hangover.” The man leaned his head heavily into one hand, rubbing at his eyes. He had bigger horns than Puffy, red ribbons spiraling up the lengths and back down again. 

“Your hangover can wait.” Puffy stepped to the side, and gestured to Tommy. “This is Tommy.” 

Schlatt raised his eyes, seeing Tommy, and sat up straighter.

“That’s a motherfucking human.” 

“Obviously, bitch.” 

Schlatt’s eyebrows went up.

“You’ve got a mouth in you, for a twelve-year-old.”

“I’m fucking eighteen, not twelve.”

The man (alien) laughed, surprisingly.

“Oh, I like you! Tommy, right? What happened to your leg?”

“Yeah. And it got cut off, that’s what.” Tommy looked down, a gaze of fear and pain fogging up the back of his mind. “I don’t remember what happened.” 

“Huh.”

“We brought him in here to see if one of you could figure out a prosthetic,” Skeppy said. “You have the closest anatomy to a human over anyone else on this planet.”

“True. But I’m shit at building, you know that.” Schlatt flopped back on the bed. “I’m going back to sleep while you figure this out.”

Skeppy rolled his eyes. 

“Puffy?”

“I could modify an existing prosthetic,” the woman said after an inspection of Tommy’s stump. “Just not build one. I don’t have the supplies or the knowledge.” She met Tommy’s gaze, tilting her head a little. “I think the question is whether or not you want one at all.”

“It could help me walk again?”

“After you heal, yes.” 

Tommy wanted that. His feet, his legs, they were the most important parts of him. Why? He didn’t know (he didn’t let himself know). But he knew. He knew that the day would come when he’d need to run ("Tommy, run! Run!” blonde hair whipping severed blood blood blood dripping red in a sink on his hands “I had toYou’resafenowYou’resafeSafeSafeSafe-) and he needed to run. 

He had to outrun the shadows in the back of his mind, the waves curling and crashing through barriers thick as old memories. 

“I need to walk again,” Tommy said. He needed his legs. He needed them. 

“Okay,” Puffy said. “We can talk to XD about it later.”

“Hey guys.”

Tommy turned. Sam was standing in the doorway, talons clicking purposefully against the floor. 

“What is it, Sam?”

“Someone’s come for Tommy,” the avian explained. “It’s time for his collar to be put on.” 

Tommy flinched. Skeppy patted him on the head.

“You’ll be fine. After a while you build up calluses, and it stops chafing.” 

Tommy gave him a look, but buried any further nervousness and cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said. “Okay, let’s do that.” 

Tommy was herded into a room crowded with dreamons, the only recognizable ‘faces’ belonging to XD, Drista, and Dream. White carapace and orange dust choked his vision as he was pushed down onto a block, single leg slipping on the dusty floor as harsh and unfamiliar claws pulled his head back, throat exposed to the dry air. All he could see was the ceiling and gleams of white carapace, breathing ragged in his throat while his arms were yanked back and rope bit into his skin his heart was pounding his head was spinning he couldn’t breathe the rustle-chitter of exoskeletons and his own heaving lungs forced into his ears to swallow every thought cold metal kissed his spine slipped around his windpipe and his head jerked up but something pushed it down again spines tangled through his hair ripping tearing there was a sun burning in his vision and a needle in his back punching through skin somethingburningathisthroathecouldntbreathehecouldntbreathehecoukdntbreathesomeonehelphimhelpmehelpmehelomelleasepleasetheotechnoanyone-

Tommy fought. He struggled, breaking rope as though it was grass and tearing at whatever or whoever was nearest, hands meeting carapace to claw and rip and rend to let him rise even as others fell, a strangled and wild scream echoing on walls as he thrashed and bit, more like an animal than a person a dog maddened and set loose on cruel masters he would hurt them as they had hurt him he would break them he would bleed them he would kill them-

Something connected with the back of his skull and his world exploded into stars.

Stardust dripped from the sky. It melted from fiery globes above, spilling down the velvet black and dissolving upon blue-grey waves in a sheen of gold and red. The glitter of light, the melted stardust, it brushed against Tommy’s skin. He was laying in the water, sand under his back keeping him up. 

He watched the stars fall around him. They did so softly, gently. It was a slow death of theirs. Tommy appreciated it. The only death he knew was quick and violent- it was bloody and dark and hot. 

The sky looked like dust in the air. Orange pinpricks of light glimmered above his head, a thousand fireflies pinned to a board. 

There was a sound. Tommy couldn’t move, but he knew who was there anyway. A hand slipped through his. 

“Hey, Tommy.”

There was fire lacing through his nerves. It arched down his spine, up his throat. 

“It hurts,” he whispered. 

“I know.” His brother sat down next to him, hair soaked dark gold and dripping down into the sea. 

“I can’t walk.” Tommy felt the fire in his nose, in his eyes. He choked on a small whimper. “I can’t- I can’t walk.” 

“Hey, shh, shh, it’s okay.” A hand smoothed over his forehead, his hair. His brother was so close, hair dripping on Tommy’s chest. He looked so young. Younger than Tommy, features still soft and unhardened by time or tension. He smiled, and it looked like a child’s smile. 

“Why are you being kind?” Tommy asked in a murmur. 

“Because I’m your older brother.”

Tommy looked over at him. 

“You’re just a kid.” 

His brother’s expression flickered. 

“I’m not a child,” he whispered. 

"How old are you?"

His brother blinked. 

"Fifteen."

Tommy limply raised a hand. It rested against his brother’s cheek. 

“You are. You are.” 

His brother shook his head and said nothing. Tommy’s head had ended up in his lap. 

“Why?” Tommy asked.

“Why what?”

“Why did you do all that?” 

“Because you’re my little brother. I have to take care of you.” 

His brother was pale. His hair was messy, the ends uneven and layers jagged. His eyes were hollow, smeared in the corners with a violet-green sheen. 

“Who will take care of you?” Tommy murmured.

His brother didn’t reply. He looked up instead, and Tommy saw blood pounding in the side of his throat. 

“Look at the stars, Tommy.” 

Tommy looked. 

“I don’t recognize them,” he said. Fingers were combing through his hair, carefully separating curls. 

“Then you can learn them. Don’t dwell on the past, Tommy. It just hurts.” 

“It hurts now.”

“That’s why you keep moving.” A small sound, almost like a sigh. “I know you’ll walk again.” 

“When?”

“Soon.”

Tommy let the quiet drag on for a time. The water lapped at his hands, at his ribs. Tiny darting fish swam around his feet. In the distance, something huge and frilled broke the surface of the sea, crest arching against the stars for a moment before slipping back down into oblivion.

“I have to wake up, don’t I?” He asked softly.

“Yeah.”

Tommy let out a breath. It whispered in the air around him. 

“Okay.” 

Tommy opened his eyes.

Chapter Text

Tommy jumped to consciousness with a jerk, heart pounding in his chest and eyes snapped open. He was laying on a bed, but his hands-

His hands were tied. There was rope, or something, wrapped around his wrists and keeping them against the wall. It kept his shoulders held at an angle that really hurt at this point, and he groaned softly through his teeth as the ache spiked up into his neck and skull. He shut his eyes.

“That doesn’t sound good.” A shuffle, and a liquid tipped into Tommy’s mouth. It tasted like walnuts. He grimaced and spat instinctively, but there was a scolding sound and a hand pressed over Tommy’s mouth so the liquid couldn’t escape. “No, no, it’ll help the pain. Drink it, kid, you’ll be fine.” 

Tommy cracked his eyes back open again, not recognizing the rough and almost-scaly touch on his face. He saw green hair, and glittering black eyes. 

“Sam?” He rasped.

“That’s me.” Sam sat back, nails tapping on his legs. “We should really look at getting you food. I don’t think you ate before you were collared.”

Collar. Tommy tried to reach for his neck, but only jerked at his shoulders when he forgot the rope.

Sam made a clicking noise, reaching forward to slice the rope. His sleeve hiked up a little as he did so, showing that the sort-of-scales came halfway up to his elbow and started to blend with black and green feathers. Tommy couldn’t help wondering if they ever got rubbed the wrong way by fabric, winced again, and rubbed at the chafed skin on his wrists.

“Thanks.” He forced himself to stop rubbing, since the skin was already red. “Where’s everyone else?” 

“In their area. You were… separated, after you were collared.” Sam stood, pacing back and forth between the walls and fiddling with a hexagonal object in his hands. His talons scraped against the floor as he walked, flexing and twisting so oddly, so… alien. “What I heard was that you became aggressive. You fought.”

Tommy lightly touched the base of his neck, where the skin was tight. More chafing. Metal, warm and smooth. It buzzed slightly. A collar. 

“I don’t remember,” Tommy said hollowly. 

But he was lying. Sure, he didn’t remember everything. Flashes, mostly. Fire. Pain. Screaming. But he remembered his brother. And he remembered the needle-

Tommy reached around to the back of his neck. There was a bandage there, taped to his spine.

“They put something in me,” he said. “They-”

“It’s just ink,” Sam said placidly. “A tattoo. To mark you as Drista’s, not her brother’s.”

Tommy had been branded. Like a cow, or horse. He felt sick.

“Why wouldn’t I fight?” He croaked out. “I’m not- I’m not a belonging. This isn’t right.”

“Of course it’s not.” Sam sounded… tired. He looked over as a dreamon came in through the doorway, fingers looped through the handles of a tray with a cup and square bowl. “Thank you.”

“Don’t waste it,” the dreamon said, and handed the tray over before leaving, legs rustle-clicking one-two three-four under fabric the color of sand. 

“Nobody said this was right,” Sam continued, coming to the side of the bed and setting the tray down on Tommy’s lap. “But sometimes, not fighting is the better choice.” 

Tommy looked down.

“Like when?” He muttered, inspecting the tray’s contents. The cup had water in it, the bowl… okay, what was that? It looked like grubs. Big fat grubs, mixed with cubes of something that resembled red carrots and seeds of some kind. No utensils. Again. Seriously, what was the deal with that? Tommy hadn’t washed his hands in days. He was going to get a disease.

“Like when you’re in dreamon territory,” Sam said. “Being kept in good condition so you can entertain a child. You could be worse off, kid, and if you fight, XD will make sure you can’t do so again. That’s what happens.”

Tommy eventually found a pair of short chopsticks(?) slotted in the side of the bowl, sliding them out. It had been a while since he’d last used chopsticks, so he struggled a little as he shifted the grubs around, trying to pick up the root cubes. 

“Do you want the bugs?” He asked Sam, who made a chattering sound like a laugh.

“I already ate. But they don’t taste so bad- like bark runners. Maybe a bit saltier.”

Tommy frowned, and chomped down on a chosen cube. It didn’t taste like carrots. More like… Raspberries? Weird. 

“I don’t even know if I can eat them,” he said around the root, which had a fibrous texture. “They’re alien bugs, bitch.”

“The satyrs eat them,” Sam said. “Human and satyr biology is very similar, so you should be able to eat them.” 

Tommy huffed, using the chopsticks to pick up one of the grubs and considering it thoughtfully. The skin was crisp and a pale greenish color, a tiny patch of shell or chitin or something gleaming as though the whole bug had been roasted like a pumpkin seed. 

“No one ever fought back?” Tommy asked. “Everyone just gave up when they were taken by the dreamons?”

“Basically,” Sam said. “Bad’s clan didn’t have any leverage. I was too young. The satyrs were captured from a diplomatic party, so they can’t do anything until negotiations finish.”

“How long has that been going on?” Tommy finally gathered his courage and bit off the end of the grub. His eyebrows bounced up. The slightly gooey, sticky liquified insides- it tasted like cheese. Cheddar, mozzarella, fantastic. Tommy shoved the rest into his mouth.

“Oh, ten years or so.”

He almost choked on his cheesy grub. 

“What?”

Sam waved one hand. 

“Satyrs live a long time, almost as long as harpies. They can do things that slowly if it’s not pressing.”

“But- but no one tried to fight?” Tommy asked again. “To run?”

Sam, who’d been pacing again, hesitated. A low chittering sound left his throat, feathers ruffing up around his face. 

“One did. Before End was invaded, before anyone else but me. A long, long time ago. I barely remember him- I was too young. But I remember he left. Stole a ship.”

“His name?” 

Sam shook his head.

“He didn’t have one. He’d been with the dreamons all his life, and they’d never given him a name.”

“And- and he escaped?”

“He was shot down,” Sam said, and went back to pacing. He was fiddling with his feathers, now- one hand was buried in the underside of his wing. 

Tommy watched him with a growing sense of sorrow, and pushed that away by stuffing another cheesy grub in his mouth. 

“I don’t want to give up,” he said quietly, once he’d swallowed. “I don’t want to feel like I’ve- like I’ve accepted this.” 

“I know,” Sam said. “No one said it was easy.”

Tommy stirred the contents of the bowl with a chopstick, careful not to break the crunchy skins of the grubs. It didn’t feel right to him, giving up- laying down and letting himself be a mere passenger in his own life. Not fighting for change.

“Being a coward is easy,” he muttered bitterly. 

“It is not cowardice, kid. It’s sacrifice. Choosing to give up freedom to preserve your life, or the life of someone you love, that’s sacrifice. Would you call Skeppy and Antfrost cowards? Puffy and Schlatt?”

Tommy mutely shook his head. Sam lightly patted his hand, a high trill making Tommy’s scalp prickle.

“Peace is something we make. Find that opportunity whenever you can.” 

Tommy huffed a little but didn’t argue. He ate his cheesy grubs instead, trying to ignore the dull pounding of his leg and neck and head while Sam rustled and eventually got up. 

“I had a brother.”

There was a pause, but Sam’s shadow remained in the door so Tommy knew he’d heard.

“What?”

“I had a brother,” Tommy repeated. The past tense of the word tasted bitter in his mouth. “I was taken from him, and I don’t- I don’t know what happened to him.”

“The human you were with, right?”

Tommy pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, almost hard enough to make colors flash in his blackened vision. Was this how Bad perceived the world? Darkness and whatever else swelled to replace it? 

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “But- But I had one. I had him, and I lost him. I lost him, I lost my home, I lost my life, I lost my friends, I lost my leg, I lost my fucking freedom.” His next breath came out shuddery and wet. “I’m so tired of losing things and if I give up then I- I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“You persist,” Sam said. “You hold onto that last sliver of hope that things will get better, and you survive. Canyons aren’t carved because the river stops flowing, and even if you can’t see it things are moving on.” 

Tommy dragged in a breath to clear his airways, sniffling slightly and rubbing at his eyes. 

“Thanks.” 

“Of course.” The drag of talons again. “I’ll go get Puffy, if you want to start working on your prosthetic.”

Tommy nodded stiffly. 

“Y-yeah, that would be great.” He needed the distraction. 

*****

Techno was jerked awake from unconsciousness when his surroundings rumbled and jerked. He lay there for a moment, eyes snapped open and breath whistling between his teeth, and only felt his heart slow back down when he recognized the walls of the ship. 

He was alone. The spaceship air made his skin prickle. 

He pushed himself up, thoughtfully grumbling and trying to swallow away the sour taste in his mouth as he pushed hair out of his face (his mask was gone). It was always going to end up there no matter what he did, but the braid helped.  

His hand lingered on it for a moment, fingertips tracing the woven segments. The braid was much looser than one he would have done, but it held together. 

Techno got out of bed. He pulled on a pair of socks and his boots, wrapping himself in his jacket to protect him from the chill and the world as he left his cabin. The halls were empty, oddly enough, barking echoing from the cargo hold and the only sound of conversation coming from the bridge or whatever it was. 

Techno lightly pushed the door open and saw the rest of the crew inside, unstrapping themselves from their seats or doing pilot-y things at the control panels. Philza, the first to notice him, started chattering in the unlayered and totally intelligible way that meant Techno’s translator had shorted out again. 

“I don’t-” he shook his head, pointing to his collar. “Can’t understand.” 

Phil paused, then called to Tubbo on the other side of the room. Tubbo came up, scratching his head, and the two held a short exchange. Finally, Tubbo turned to Techno.

“So you woke up. Phil’s wondering how you’re doing.”

Techno shrugged.

“Where are we?” he asked instead. “I felt something.”

“Yeah, that was the landing. We, uh, we landed on Kwarwe-Niebo a few minutes ago.” Tubbo made a very odd expression, and Techno inspected it for a moment. 

“Something’s wrong,” he said. Tubbo blinked, ears twitching, and gave Techno a sheepish smile.

“Well. Not wrong. Just…. Inconvenient.” He glanced to Phil, who was talking, and started to translate. “The cargo’s due in a solar system a few light years away from Kwarwe-Niebo, and the pair of us plus the dogs are straining the ship’s resources way beyond the plans for this shipment.” 

Techno frowned.

“They’re kicking us off.” 

“Eh…. no?” Tubbo looked at Phil again, waiting for the answer before continuing. “The ship needs to resupply and deliver its cargo. That’s not debatable. However, you guys- meaning me and you- don’t have the knowledge or resources to be alone on the planet, cough cough emphasis on you Techno.” 

Techno huffed. 

“What does he care if we’re by ourselves?”

Tubbo shrugged. 

“Hell if I know. Anyway, we’re trying to figure out what to do.” He tapped his fingers on his side for a moment, then turned to address his boyfriend. “Boo, your clan lives on this planet, doesn’t it?”

Ranboo, who had stood, paused and looked at Tubbo for a moment. He replied hesitantly, or something similar, hands wringing at his chest. 

“There’s a refugee camp on Kwarwe-Niebo,” Tubbo said after a few minutes. “If Ranboo came with us, we could stay with his clan until the ship figured out what to do. You do have vacation time, right?” 

A slow assent. 

“So that should work, right?”

“You want us to get dumped at a refugee camp and hope the ship comes back?” Techno interjected, skeptical at how well this plan would work. 

“If we get off there, we’ll be somewhere the IA won’t find us, in a location a cargo ship can easily return to, and just on the edge of Dreamon territory,” Tubbo said. “It’s the best idea we’ve got.” 

“We? There was no ‘we’ in this- you didn’t talk to me about it at all!”

“Techno, I hate to say it, but it’s not like you could have added anything to the conversation.” 

Techno jammed his teeth together, hands clenching and unclenching in his jeans. 

“Tommy is my brother.”

“I know.” Tubbo had the audacity to look faintly sad. “He’s my friend, too. If you weren’t human, if you weren’t from Earth, of course we would have discussed it with you.”

“But I am,” Techno said flatly. “I’m from Earth, I’m from the human species, I’m from Tommy’s life. What do I know about galactic politics, huh? I’m just a washed up runaway from a middle-of-nowhere town picked because no one would ever think to look for me there.” 

Tubbo blinked, something shifting in his eyes. Techno had begun to realize just how much they reflected the light, pupils and iris turned to flat disks of amber when hit just right. 

“What were you running from?”

“That’s not important.” Techno shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting the urge to wrap them around something’s neck and slam, slam, slam until the questions stopped coming. “If you made this whole plan without me, then fine. Like you said, I don’t know anything. I’ll just tag along until your boyfriend’s boss remembers we exist.” 

Then he left. He didn’t want to see how long it would take his frayed, dwindling thread of patience to snap. 

Techno’s chosen hiding spot ended up being the observation deck, stars above him and Steve’s thick fur under his hands as he made an effort to get the white fluff under control with a brush. Steve endured this with the low warbling whine of a fox with a leg caught in a trap, barely consoled by the occasional treat of proper dog food. Techno was frowning over a mat in Steve’s fur, wondering if he’d be able to find scissors, when there was the flutter-scrape of an avian climbing the ladder. 

“How’d you manage that?” Phil asked, undoubtedly referring to Steve.

“Time,” Techno replied, much sharper than was considered polite. “What do you want?”

“Well. We landed on Kwarwe-Niebo, so whenever you’re ready you, Tubbo, and Ranboo will head to the camp. I hear it’s fairly nice, actually. And… I wanted to talk.”

“About what?” Techno gave up on the mat for now and turned to the remains of some leaves stuck in the end of Steve’s tail, picking out the vaguely sharp fragments. 

“You’ve been on the ship for a while, but I barely know you.” 

“So? I don’t know Niki either, but you don’t see me hunting her down to talk to.” 

“It’s different when I’m the captain of a ship smuggling a pair of illegal passengers,” Phil said. “Incidentally, the more illegal of which is you.”

Techno huffed and resisted the urge to fold his arms. 

“Then what’re you here to ask me?” 

“Talk,” Philza said. “Not ask. Just talk.” 

Techno did cross his arms at that, hugged to his chest and keeping in the warmth. 

“About what?” He practically snapped out.

“Earth,” Phil said. “Your life before all this.”

“I lived with Tommy,” Techno said, picking at his sleeve. “And the dogs. Small town. Nothing going on.”

“What did it look like?”

“Empty,” Techno said. “Grassy. The house was near a coulee, so there were trees.”

Phil hummed.

“I remember those. Pain in the neck to land in, I’ll tell you.”

Techno snorted. 

“The glory of cottonwoods. Tommy always wanted to mess around in the water, but I wouldn’t let him. Kid doesn’t know how to swim, and I can’t either, so.” He felt itchy. On edge. 

“How long have you been taking care of him?”

Techno’s mouth tasted like copper. Like fire, and iron, and salt. Like blurry nights under sparse streetlamps.

“Long time,” he said finally. Because it was true. It was true. 

“Phil?” Wilbur stuck his head up the ladder, frowning just a little at Techno. “We arranged transport to the camp. It’s leaving soon.”

“Ah.” Phil stood, shaking Steve’s debris off his wings and patting Techno on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, kid, okay?”

Techno pushed himself upright as well. 

“I’m not a kid,” he said.

The planet outside the ship was dark. Nighttime? Techno could only see due to the strings of pale green lights crisscrossing the gaps between buildings a couple hundred feet away, visible against snatches of black sky and draped fabric awnings. An animal howled in the distance and the dogs barked back, restrained by the tangle of leashes looped around Techno, Tubbo, and Ranboo’s wrists.

“Come on,” Ranboo said, taking the lead towards what looked like a van parked at the edge of the landing strip. Tubbo and then Techno followed, the latter gingerly picking his way across the almost-asphalt and dogs underfoot with the lowered visibility of his mask. 

“Are you sure we trust whoever’s taking us?” Techno asked, scanning the vehicle (white, characters similar to Chinese taking up what space hadn’t been painted with some kind of fruit tree).

“Who, Ponk?” Ranboo glanced back, ignoring the way Bear was trying to rip one spindly arm out of his socket. “They’re a doctor. The whole point of a doctor is that they’re trustworthy.”

“Optimistic,” Techno muttered.

“Your paranoia can wait,” Tubbo said. “I’m gonna talk to him.”

Techno waited while Tubbo jogged up to one window of the van, leaning closer to hold an inaudible conversation. A minute or so, and Tubbo leaned back again to wave Techno forward and open the back door.

“You and me with the dogs in the back, Ranboo in front.”

Techno was pleasantly surprised to find that the back wasn’t cramped at all, so he didn’t especially mind having to share six seats between him, Tubbo, and nine dogs. What he did mind? The way a pair of dark, dark eyes were watching him from a rear-facing mirror, features indistinguishable under a red-black-yellow scarf. Techno ducked his chin lower, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s a piglin,” the driver said to Ranboo. “You’ve been to Nether?”

“I-”

“Boo, he can’t know.”

“The piglin’s not important,” Ranboo said lamely. “Just, um. Please take us to camp.”

“Alright, fine.” The driver turned away again, and after a second the van began to move. 

Techno, to keep himself calm, started to stroke the fur on Empire’s head. 

“You got big,” The driver said to Ranboo. “Travel going alright for you?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Ranboo replied, sounding actually cheerful. “Before this we were on the mer planet.” 

Techno tuned out the sound of talking, focusing more on the weight of Empire’s head in his lap. He glanced up after a minute, over to Tubbo.

The satyr was curled up in his seat, eyes reflecting amber in the light of his phone. Techno squinted at the screen, tilting his head.

“How do you have service in space?”

Tubbo looked back.

“Huh?”

“You’re on Twitter,” Techno said. “In space.”

Tubbo smirked a little.

“Perks of being from space. We have signal boosters to access Earth cyberspace anywhere in IA territory.”

“Why?”

Tubbo shrugged. 

“Helps keep an eye on Earth’s affairs without sending down a field researcher.” He shifted in his seat, stretching out his legs for a moment. “It’s such an entertaining niche, too. The human internet is hilarious and terrifying at the same time.” 

“I’ve never been the biggest fan because of that,” Techno said. “Though I’m glad for deliveries. Meant I didn’t have to go to town that often.”

“Yeah, well, people are still talking plenty about you.”

Techno stiffened.

“What?”

Tubbo glanced over. 

“What, you didn’t know? Don’t you look at any local media?”

“No,” Techno said, sitting up straighter. “All I did online was online shop- what are you talking about?”

“There’s a Facebook group about you,” Tubbo said. “And Tommy.”

Techno couldn’t see. His eyes were blurring out, heat swelling in his skull as his extremities got cold. His ears were ringing.

“Wh- what? Why?”

They couldn’t have known. Nobody did. That was the point- that was the whole reason Techno had come here in the first place, so nobody would know and nobody would find out and exactly two people would know what he’d done-

“What are they saying?” He demanded, barely hearing his own voice over the sirens in his ears. He could almost see the red and blue lights flashing in his vision. “What are they talking about?”

“Mostly making conspiracy theories on why you never come to town,” Tubbo said. “I think my favorite is that you’re a mad scientist and Tommy is your illegal clone thing.”

Techno blinked, and relaxed just a little. 

“So… they’re just making stuff up?”

“Oh, yeah, one hundred percent.” Tubbo scanned his phone, then snickered. “‘Maybe he had more clones he turned into dogs and that’s why he took them all when he disappeared’. So stupid.”

Techno resisted the urge to sigh. 

“Don’t they have anything better to do?”

“Seeing as it’s usually retired people with no hobbies and a thirst for gossip, I’d say no.” Tubbo absently stretched out his back, shifting and propping his feet on the back of Ranboo’s chair. “Well, we’re not much better ourselves at the moment. It’ll be a while before we reach the camp. Try to get some rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Techno said.

“Then stay awake. I’m not in charge of you.” 

“You’re kicking me in the neck,” Ranboo said from up front. 

“It’s out of love, Boo.” Tubbo smiled, faintly visible in the light of his phone, and turned back to his incredibly absorbing task of scrolling Twitter. 

Techno, with no such magically enhanced WiFi signal, looked out the window at the darkness beyond. They’d left the city, it seemed, and the van’s headlights barely illuminated the planet beyond this desolate road. The sky was black, the horizon just barely beginning to tilt into whispers of grey and turquoise and the rest of the heavens scattered with stars. The land beneath was impossible to make out at this distance, treeless and occasionally dotted with what could be bristly shrubs or rock formations. The ground rushing beside the road was an almost-red orange, mostly barren but for rocks in color like green and purple to break up the monotony. 

When Techno closed his eyes, though, he could forget that he was on a strange planet years away from home. He could pretend that the breathing he heard was a child’s, that the weight on his lap was a boy who still didn’t understand what had happened and likely never would. He could pretend, just for a moment, that Tommy was forever safe in his grasp.

Chapter Text

“Tommy.”

Tommy looked up from where he’d been watching Puffy squint at his stump, and saw Sapnap standing in the doorway. 

“Yeah?”

“Drista wants you. Apparently she’s bored.”

Tommy sighed, but held out one hand. 

“Help me up, big man.”

Down the hall they went, Tommy carried piggyback and very tired of it already. 

Sapnap ended up carting him into the throne room Tommy had seen… what, yesterday? This morning? He couldn’t be sure. But either way, there was XD and Drista, the former absorbed in what looked like a big tablet and the latter slumped on a throne of her own, which honestly looked more like a fancy basket than anything. 

“Princess,” Sapnap said to get her attention.

Drista’s head whipped up and she promptly scrambled out of her basket to meet them halfway.

“Finally!” Her wings fluttered excitedly. “I was going to die of boredom with nothing to do.”

“I offered to teach you about supply train management,” XD said without looking up. 

“That’s even more boring.” Drista plucked at Tommy’s shirt, his shorts, in a rather childish and attention-grabbing way. “Do you know any games?”

“I know human ones,” Tommy replied. “From Earth.”

“Well, that has to be more interesting than supply trains. Come on, play with me.”

“I’m not sure how many we can play,” Tommy said awkwardly, not wanting to look like an idiot hopping after the alien princess on his remaining leg. “A lot of them need cards, or a game board, or something.”

“Then teach me one that doesn’t need any.”

Tommy sighed. 

“Okay, I guess. But I’m not walking anywhere.”

“Oh, okay. Maybe I could carry you.”

Sure, Tommy had been carried around by dreamons before. But those were adults, and Drista was decidedly younger than that. And smaller. And she had wings in the way. 

“You’re not carrying him anywhere,” XD interjected, relieving Tommy of his worry. “You’re a princess, not a labourer.”

Drista stretched out angrily, making a soft hissing noise that Tommy’s translator couldn’t, uh, translate. 

“Fine! You’re so boring! Let’s just sit down here.”

They sat, Drista gracefully and Tommy gingerly. 

“So,” she said. “Games.” 

“Right. Um… games, games…” Tommy thought for a second, absently flopping his leg back and forth. All the games he could think of were either video games, or board games, or games that involved running, none of which were on the table. What kind of games had he played as a kid? Tommy searched his memories, going back as far as he dared, and found himself struggling. Fuck, he hadn’t been that boring of a kid, had he? There had to be something. 

Hide and seek? No. 

Telephone? They did not have enough people for that, and Tommy would not be asking a warlord to play a stupid game with him, thank you very much. 

Quiet game? No, that wasn’t a game, that was a trick played to shut kids up for a while. 

Tommy eventually had to admit that he couldn’t think of anything.

“Don’t humans play any games?” Drista asked, annoyed again. 

“I mean, yeah, we do.” Tommy gestured at his not-leg. “But there’s not much we can do with this.”

Drista tilted her head a little, crown staying on despite the movement. Maybe it was superglued or something.

“What happened to your leg?” She asked.

Tommy hunched his shoulders.

“Our ship- our ship stopped working. I got hurt, and-”

And when he woke up, he was missing a leg.

“Oh,” Drista said. “Does it grow back?”

“No,” Tommy said. “No, it won’t. I’ll be like this for the rest of my life.” 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not your fault, Tommy almost said, then hesitated. Because… it was Drista’s fault. She’d wanted a human, she’d begged for one, she was the one who was responsible for Tommy being kidnapped. It was her stupid, selfish, childish demands that had gotten him in this mess. 

“You should be,” he said instead. 

Quiet. Drista shifted slightly, legs scraping across the dusty floor with a dry and raspy sound. 

“I can teach you some dreamon games,” she said after a moment, in a real show of grace. 

Tommy eyed her.

“How many arms will I need?” 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I play with Sapnap’s clan all the time, and none of them have as many arms as me.”

“Okay, I guess. What kind of game are you thinking of?”

Drista ended up getting out a bunch of colorful rings made of what might’ve been wood, might’ve been plastic. 

“Standing is against the rules,” she explained, “so we can play it fine.”

“Alright.” Tommy had started idly rubbing his stump, as if that would ease the sensation of a phantom foot wiggling its toes. “So how does this work?”

*****

Techno hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he jerked awake, startled by the lurch of the vehicle.

Day had arrived. The sky was blue outside the window, the sun brighter than Earth’s was in his memory. The land around was oddly colorful, red earth sprinkled with green or purple rocks, but it was rather empty. Except for the buildings, which had sprung up around the van as if by magic. They almost looked like circus tents, broken up by what might’ve been fences and bustling with long-limbed aliens that seemed to be Ranboo’s species. Techno couldn’t really make them out from this distance, as the van had parked a ways away near a building with white stucco-looking walls.

“Finally awake?” Tubbo asked, turned around to look at Techno. “Ponk’s already outside, and Ranboo’s helping them unload.”

“Hm.” Techno sat up straighter, raising a hand to rub at his face before realizing his mask was still on. He was going to have some wicked marks when he took it off. “What’s the plan?”

“We stay with Ranboo’s clan until the Varona comes back for us.”

“The what?” 

Tubbo blinked. 

“The Varona. The- Phil’s ship.” 

“Ah.” Techno’s fingers drummed against his arms. “Can we trust Ranboo’s clan to keep quiet?”

“Yes,” Tubbo said, “and it’s not like they’d be able to tell anyone about you anyway.” He huffed softly, absently twisting some hair between his fingertips. “The problem is in how Phil will pick us back up again. The camp doesn’t have a landing strip.”

Techno doubted if Phil would ever come back for them. But he didn’t say that. 

After a minute, Ranboo appeared in one of the van windows and knocked on Tubbo’s window. Tubbo rolled said window down, careful to keep any of the dogs from jumping outside. 

“Yeah?” 

“Ponk’s done unloading,” Ranboo said. “We should leave before any of his patients showing up.”

“Got it. C’mon Techno.”

Tubbo, Techno, and the dogs managed to get out of the van without too much hassle. Techno was grateful for the tinted glass of his mask’s eyes, as they blocked some of that too-bright sunlight, but even still found the air getting stifling. Perks of not having much airflow. 

“Lead the way, bossman,” Tubbo said with a gesture. Ranboo nodded, and they set off.

Techno kept his head low and still as the three walked, not wanting too much attention. He still looked around nonstop, taking in as much as he could. The tents, now larger and more distinct in his vision, really did look big enough to fit a whole circus each. The side openings were generally open, revealing dark interiors that occasionally flickered with people.

And they were no people that Techno had ever imagined. Sure, they bore close enough resemblance to Ranboo to be the same species, but many were taller by heads and shoulders, draped in fluttery cloth and bangles as they went about their business. Most appeared to be black all over but occasionally there was one with ghostly white skin and other parts, or even almost-human coloration. Occasionally children could be seen, with even ganglier limbs than the adults and no scarves. 

The one thing all had in common? Stopping and watching as Ranboo and his unconventional companions passed. Greetings were exchanged with the former, but the latter two got only silent stares. 

“We should be there soon,” Ranboo said after some time. 

“Should?” Techno pressed. Ranboo made an awkward sound.

“My clan might’ve exchanged lots with another. It happens sometimes.” 

Techno bit back a sigh. He was sweaty, tired, and annoyed, and none of those combined well.

“Normally clans are nomadic,” Tubbo informed him. “But they can’t exactly do it in the camps, since those restrict movement.”

“Instead clans will swap their allocated land,” Ranboo finished, having evidently picked up on the conversation. “Usually every few years, if they haven’t been relocated already.”

“How big’s the camp?” Techno asked, because his skin itched with the feeling of eyes on him and he hoped it wouldn’t last too long.

Ranboo let out a thoughtful sound, fidgeting with the strap of his bag. 

“My clan’s district is maybe… thirty-eight thousand clans together.”

Techno swallowed. 

“How many people in a clan?”

“Around fifty.” 

Techno was not what he’d call a math nerd. But that was… A lot of people. And he said so.

“Before the invasion,” Ranboo said softly, barely audible, “there were five billion of us on End. Two billion made it off the planet. One billion died. The other two billion stayed, and are now in servitude to the dreamons.”

“How many camps are there?” Techno asked, voice quieter than he wanted it to be. Three billion people lost. Techno’s life had become a nightmare since he lost one person, and here Ranboo was. Laughing and smiling and living with the weight of three billion ghosts on his shoulders. 

“On this planet? Three. All together? Twenty-one.” Ranboo was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat and kept talking- “We’re tough, though. Every day we get closer to what our numbers were before. Every day we remind ourselves that life is worth living. We’re happy.” Tubbo’s hand slipped into Ranboo’s. “We survived,” Ranboo continued softly, “and that’s more than others can say.” 

Techno was silent after that. 

To Techno’s immense surprise, nobody had died by the time they reached the place Ranboo had evidently been heading for, a large dark grey tent with colorful patterns along the sides. 

The first to notice was a jet black alien with violet eyes, who promptly let out a delighted scream and vaulted the fence to grab Ranboo in a hug.

“Ran! Everybody! Ran’s home!” 

“Hi Aimsey,” Ranboo wheezed. He was taller than the person squeezing him, patting their hair between the horns. “Yeah, I’m back.”

“And you brought friends!” Aimsey stepped back, gaze flicking over Tubbo and Techno. “Or, uh-”

“This is Tubbo,” Ranboo said shyly, gesturing. “My boyfriend.” 

Tubbo waved. 

“And that’s Techno. He’s a passenger on my ship.”

“Huh.” Aimsey paused, taking Techno in, then shook their head. “Anyway! Come on in, everyone will be so happy to see you!”

“We should put the dogs somewhere,” Techno said before anything else. “They need to get out of the sun and get food and water.”

“Right, right.” Ranboo readjusted his bag. “Aimsey, could someone run down to the depot and tell them we have offworld visitors?”

“Sure thing.” Aimsey glanced around, then took a few steps and hauled up a kid about the height of Techno’s shoulder, this one with brown hair. “Hey, you heard Ran, hop to it.”

“Alright.” The kid ran off, and Aimsey gestured for everyone to come inside. 

“You still have goats, right?” Ranboo asked.

“Yeah,” Aimsey replied. “Why?”

“Techno, you could put the dogs with them.”

Aimsey eyed the dogs. 

“They won’t mess with them?”

“Probably not,” Techno said.

“Okay then. Might as well.” Aimsey gestured. “Around the back.”

Techno retrieved the leashes from Ranboo and Tubbo and managed to avoid tripping on any of the dogs as he rounded the tent. Bursting with energy after being cooped up for so long, eight furry bodies jumped and barked and occasionally hacked as they reached the ends of leashes. Except Shroud. He was sitting in Techno’s duffle bag, head poked out of the pocket on one side. 

“You’re all getting baths when we get off this planet,” Techno informed them, sighing at how Steve looked more like a setter with the sheer quantity of orange-red dust in normally-white fur. 

The ‘goats’ were being kept in a pen constructed from wooden posts and a kind of chicken wire. More importantly, there was a shed constructed that would keep the sun away. 

Techno shifted four leashes to his other hand and fiddled to get the gate open. There was a noise, and a trio of animals that kind of maybe resembled goats lifted off the sand. They had hooves and horns, anyway, but almost invisible eyes and pouchy-looking throats. 

“You better not be venomous,” Techno informed them. “I had enough trouble from the last strange alien venom.”

One of the ‘goats’ decided now was the moment to yawn. The gesture involved a mildly grotesque stretching out of jawbones, revealing a bright blue interior of mouth and throat flesh. 

Yikes. 

“Well, play nice,” Techno said, practically dragging the dogs in and unsnapping their leashes. Then he closed the gate before any could get out and turned back for the tent. He’d keep Shroud- the oversized rat had caused enough trouble last time he’d gotten loose on a strange planet. 

He ended up stepping inside the tent opening, blinking in the relative darkness. The tent felt crowded despite its size, cluttered with people and curtains hanging from the roof. 

“Tubbo?” Techno asked, looking around. 

“Here!”

Techno followed the voice and found himself in a different area. There, Ranboo and Tubbo were standing with Aimsey and two more aliens.

Techno swallowed despite himself. These were the tallest yet- both towering well above Ranboo, wrapping him up in long limbs and all talking at the same time. Techno winced and tugged at his translator. 

“Techno, hey,” Tubbo said. “This is Ranboo’s mom and dad- I already explained the situation and they agreed to let us stay as long as we needed.”

One of the aliens- white, with longer horns and a black scarf draped across their shoulders- said something entirely unintelligible.

Tubbo glanced at Techno, who shrugged.

“Translator shorted.”

“Ah. Well, uh… should we tell them you’re human?”

“Will I get hauled back to Earth?”

Ranboo was the one to reply, and Tubbo relayed what he’d said:

“The clan will keep you secret, and if we keep you out of sight of any officials you won’t be noticed.” 

“Then might as well,” Techno said. “I was going to lose my mind if I had to keep wearing this thing anyway.”

He pulled the mask off, pushing stray bits of hair out of his face and sucking in a deep breath. The air smelled like sand and heat and something peppery. 

A few startled noises from the strangers, who came over and bent to inspect him. 

Techno folded his arms, not knowing why he felt so much like a child. Maybe it was the eyes, the being loomed over. 

The white one, Ranboo’s mom, tilted her head and let out a string of words in that deep crackly-warping language.

“She asked where your clan is,” Tubbo translated. 

Techno gritted his teeth.

“Nowhere. I don’t have one.” 

“What about your brother?” 

“He’s the only one. He’s- he’s the only family I have. I’m the only family he has.”

Tubbo frowned at him.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes,” Techno snapped. “The only family Tommy has is me.” 

He’d made very sure of that. 

Tubbo’s expression flickered a little, and for half a second Techno felt a shudder of fear go through him.

Did Tubbo know? How would he know? Techno had made sure no one in his new life would ever know and Tubbo was an alien from another planet who’d only been on Earth for a few years so how would he know?

The tension snapped when Tubbo’s eyes flicked over to Ranboo’s mom, then back.

“She said sorry.” 

Techno wanted to sigh. 

“Thanks.”

The conversation picked back up after that. At least between everyone else, as Techno was tired of chatting and curled up in a corner by himself.

Most of the furniture seemed to be low futon-type-things and cushions, haphazardly spread out atop rugs laid over the sandy earth. If Techno guessed, he’d say this was some kind of bedroom, but ‘room’ was only vaguely applicable because there were no walls, just the side of the tent and curtains hanging from the roof with eyes peeking around and under-

Wait a second. 

Techno squinted at one pair of eyes. There was a startled ‘vwoop’ sound, much higher than Ranboo’s voice from nearby, and the eyes vanished.

Huh. 

Techno slowly looked away, to the far wall. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three. 

Without moving his head, Techno flicked his gaze back to the curtains, right in his peripherals. The eyes had returned- green, and faintly glowing for some reason. There were maybe a couple dozen peeking from other spots, green or violet or blue but all glowing just a little. The highest they appeared would be about Techno’s eyes, meaning... these were kids. A bunch of alien kids. Watching him.

Their curiosity was simultaneously amusing and… sad, maybe? Not that Techno thought the kids were sad, but because he instinctively recalled when Tommy had been younger. 

Red and blue lights.

Techno squeezed his eyes shut to banish the memory. When he opened them again, he could see a lump that definitely hadn’t been in that particular cushion before.

Techno eyed it, not missing the little black tail that flicked back and forth like a cat’s. From the curtain there was another child’s voice, and then a smaller, almost petulant reply from the cushion. 

Techno smiled despite himself. He hadn’t really gotten to see Tommy like this as a little kid, but there was something almost comforting about imagining that this is how it could’ve been. If Techno been able to take care of him better. Made them a life earlier.

Before he could get distracted by the thoughts rising in his mind like detritus from the depths of the ocean, he got up from the couch and crouched over the cushion.

Then he prodded the lump.

There was a squeal, and a hip-height alien kid squirmed out from underneath and was met halfway by the tallest of the eyes, belonging to an older child with blue eyes and a faded green skirt that scooped the smaller up and presumably scolded them. 

Techno huffed in soft amusement. Both of the aliens turned to him, disproportionally big ears twitching. They both had horns like Ranboo, too, the older’s about the size and shape of bananas and the younger’s little more than stubs. If Techno had to guess their ages compared to a human, he’d say the one was ten or eleven, the younger four or five.

Techno, eternally awkward and with no better ideas, just… waved at them. 

The younger kid waved back, the gesture clumsy. 

“Hey, Techno?” 

Techno looked over. 

“Ranboo volunteered us to help make breakfast,” Tubbo said sheepishly. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not piss off the people who could crush me like a bug.”

“You must feel even more like a child here,” Techno deadpanned, joining him. 

“Unfortunately. How does it feel being on my level?” 

“Weird.”

Tubbo snorted.

“Come on, big man.”

Tubbo and Techno ended up sitting on a rug near a couple adults Techno hadn’t seen before- one with violet eyes and a baby slung across their chest, and the other with blue eyes and a lot of colorful bracelets. 

Tubbo exchanged a few words with the blue-eyed alien, then accepted a basket of what looked like sweet-potato-shaped honeydew melons.

“Here,” he said, passing one to Techno.

“Uh. What do I do with this?” 

Tubbo relayed that question to the blue-eyed alien, who nodded and pushed closer what looked like a very sharp lemon squeezer. The alien carefully picked up one of the fruits, then slammed it down onto the spile so a pale violet liquid began to trickle into the bowl below. 

“Oh,” Techno said. The alien nodded and turned to some other task that seemed to involve peeling what looked like oversized yellow artichokes with their violet-eyed companion. The baby looked to be asleep, with lighter skin than its parent but fluffy jet black hair.

“So,” Techno said, “is everybody here Ranboo’s family?”

“Uh… kinda.” 

“That’s what a clan is, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah.” Tubbo wrested the now-empty fruit off the juicer, lightly thwacking a new one into place. “But it works differently than it does on Earth. Uh… you know how people get married?”

“Yes,” Techno said. 

“Well, uh, clans start when a few adults get married and start having kids with each other. It’s a little more complicated than that, but basically, everyone here is either one of Ranboo’s parents or one of his siblings.”

“Oh,” Techno said. “Huh.” 

He should suppose that aliens would work differently. He didn’t really care either way. 

A part of him was glad Earth didn’t have this kind of thing. If it had, then keeping Tommy safe would’ve been… more difficult. He was lucky there was only that one thing in his way. 

“I wanna go home.”

“I know.”

“When can we go home?”

Techno bit the inside of his cheek. Soon, he promised an invisible, incredibly-distant Tommy. I’ll bring you home soon.

Chapter Text

Techno had been in the refugee camp for three days now and he was about to lose his mind. He was tired of being stuck here, tired of being away from his brother, tired of being pushed and pulled around as if he was a child with no control. Tired of being constantly watched and constantly surrounded by people he didn’t know. 

He was going to snap soon. He could feel it. Every day that passed where he didn’t have Tommy, Techno’s patience and self-control was stretched more and more thin. Pretty soon he wouldn’t have any left. And then? 

Well, then, he’d have to make sure nobody knew that he’d lost control at all. 

“Excuse me?”

Techno sighed and looked over at Ranboo.

“Yeah?”

Ranboo, Tubbo at his side, was holding his tablet and looking nervous, like usual. 

“I’m going to the school to talk to some of the classes,” Ranboo said. “Would you want to come along?”

Techno frowned slightly. 

“Why?”

“‘Cause it’s an opportunity,” Tubbo offered. “An opportunity to learn about Centro Verde, about dreamons, about the other members of the IA.” 

Techno paused, thinking it over. Unlike Tubbo, he didn’t have space WiFi. All he knew about the dreamons and their warlord came from the people he’d met once leaving Earth. The only things he had to his name were the clothes he’d brought, his axe, and everything inside his head. If he wanted to rescue his brother, he needed to have a plan. He needed to be smart, to think things through, to have all the facts. 

And to do that, he needed information. Information he could get at this school.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go.”

Just to be careful, he put on his mask, coat, and gloves. Ranboo’s clan could be trusted, theoretically, but Techno wasn’t about to let his guard down in the greater camp.

Techno carefully set Shroud into his coat pocket and set off after Ranboo and Tubbo, ignoring the small throng of siblings that tagged along.

The school seemed to be right in the center of the camp, based on how long it took to walk there. Techno was glad that everyone seemed more active at night- the desert air was smotheringly hot even at dusk, beating in on him as he trekked between tents. 

The farther Techno walked, the more he noticed children popping up and following, in similar clothes to Ranboo’s siblings and occasionally carrying a book. The oldest seemed a little shorter than Ranboo, and the youngest around the height of Techno’s ribcage - five or six. The younger kids greatly outnumbered the older, which honestly, Techno wasn’t surprised about. When you had work to do and siblings to look after, school became less of a priority.

Occasionally one of the older kids called to Ranboo, who called back in greeting. 

“You seem to know everybody,” Techno remarked, sticking close to his companions.

“Well, not everybody,” Ranboo said sheepishly, “But I only graduated a few years ago so a lot of my old friends still remember me.” 

“And you’re something of a celebrity,” Tubbo teased, nudging Ranboo. He got a flustered noise in return, Ranboo pushing his elbow away.

“I- I’m not.” 

“Boo here graduated top of his class and got a super fancy scholarship,” Tubbo said proudly. 

“Doesn’t that mean you should be in school?” Techno asked. Ranboo made a vague and hesitant sound.

“It paid for anything I want to do,” he said. “If I wanted to go to university, or start a business, or move my family out of the camp, it would’ve covered that. I wanted to travel, so the scholarship covered my application for an internship onboard a spaceship and means I’m technically getting paid for this. But either way, here I am.” 

“Huh.” In Techno’s opinion, Ranboo had fumbled the opportunity to get away from his family and his past. 

“We’re actually going because the instructor asked me to talk to the classes,” Ranboo said, excited if the flick of his tail was anything to go off. “Like, as an important guest! Oh, I hope I don’t sound like an idiot.”

“You’ll do great,” Tubbo reassured his boyfriend. 

Techno glanced over his shoulder for a moment, not slowing down. The back of his neck and shoulders was prickling with all the eyes on him. The head of an axe was hard against his ribs. 

“Let’s hurry this up,” he said. “I want to get out of this heat.” 

The school was… small. Smaller than it should be, for a camp of thousands of families. Techno pointed this out, and got a slight shrug from Ranboo.

“Everything is. The IA does what it can, and there are some programs for homeschooling, but it’s not enough. I’m lucky my clan even decided I could go to school at all.” 

Techno couldn’t help a soft snort.

“What?” Ranboo asked. “What does that mean?”

“Techno, it’s not funny,” Tubbo said. “Ranboo was genuinely lucky.” 

“If you say so,” Techno said. “But y’know what I think?”

Tubbo and Ranboo gave him both glances- one a slight frown, the other unreadable. 

“What?” Tubbo practically spat out. 

Techno pointed at Ranboo. 

“If there’s something you want, it doesn’t matter whether or not the people around you say it’s ‘allowed’. The moment you stop letting other people take control of your life is the moment you’re free.” 

Ranboo blinked at him.

“It’s- it’s not a problem of being allowed. It’s a problem of being able to afford it.” 

Oh. Techno, not for the first time, felt like he’d said something completely wrong. Which he definitely had, according to the looks he was being given. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking, boots scuffing through the packed sand. 

Ranboo shooed his siblings away before leading the remaining two around the building and inside one of the rooms.

“Hello?” Ranboo asked, trying to get the attention of what had to be a teacher at the back of the room. Techno took the opportunity to look around, taking in the sight of walls covered in chalkboards, long wooden benches, and the packed-down floor. There was also a rack of tablets at the back, and Techno carefully sidled towards it. 

“Ranboo! Mothers, you’re tall. How long has it been?” 

“Too long,” Ranboo replied, sounding a little sheepish. “Hello, again.” 

Techno glanced over. The teacher was a satyr, it seemed, a little taller than Tubbo but with large horns that grew and twisted away from her head. She was maybe half Ranboo’s size, but he was obviously deferring to her and the sight was a little funny. 

“The class won’t start coming in for a few minutes,” the teacher said, “so you have a little bit to prepare.”

“Okay,” Ranboo said, “is- is there anything you want me to focus on?”

He received a shrug. 

“Anything that’ll inspire these kids, help them value education and learning.” The teacher looked over, then made a surprised noise. “Oh, I completely didn’t notice, you brought friends.” 

“I’m Tubbo,” Tubbo offered, “I’m on my year abroad.” 

“Huh. Which college?”

“Mokhovaya Reka.”

The teacher nodded thoughtfully, then looked at Techno. She paused. 

“And you’re a piglin.” 

Techno nodded, figuring that was good enough. He didn’t have to talk, right? 

“My ship picked him up a few weeks ago,” Ranboo said. “He’s… looking for someone.” 

“I didn’t know you signed onto a passenger ship.”

“I didn’t. It was a favor.” 

Techno didn’t like the way the teacher was looking at him. He looked away. God, it was hot in here. Sweat was making his hair stick to the back of his neck, what wasn’t damp fluffing up with the humidity. 

“Interesting,” the teacher said. “The galaxy truly is fascinating, isn’t it? There’s always more to discover about its inhabitants.” 

Speaking of discovery. Techno surreptitiously tugged on Tubbo’s sleeve, leaning in enough that the teacher couldn’t hear as he muttered “don’t suppose there’s anywhere I can actually do some research?” 

Tubbo glanced from the teacher to the rack of tablets, then back to the teacher. 

“Hey,” he said, “how are your tech’s language settings?” 

*****

Tommy’s life had fallen into something of a routine at this point. He’d wake up in the bed scooched next to the satyrs’, eat breakfast, and hobble around the room like a three-legged dog until someone came for him. 

“Do you guys have any, like, water?” he asked one day, looking out the window as Drista picked at her own breakfast. The land outside was barren- a desert that reminded him of the savannahs on Earth with the occasional, distant tree on the horizon. “‘Cause I’m thirsty.” 

He’d been thirsty for a long time, actually. He’d mostly staved it off with fruit and shit, but his mouth was seriously dry now and he’d had a headache since yesterday. 

“Oh,” Drista said, “you need water?”

“Yes,” Tommy replied. “Either that or some juice. Do you need water?”

“Yes,” Drista said, and paused for a moment. “Here.”

Tommy accepted the cup he was handed and took a rather greedy gulp.

He then immediately  spat it out, the briny haunting taste of saltwater searing his tongue. 

Drista fluttered her wings and waved her arms, the gesture making Tommy think it was a form of silent laughter. 

“I got you!” she chirped. “Were you surprised?” 

“No, but I’m grossed out!” Tommy grimaced and smacked his lips. “And pissed! Saltwater just makes me thirstier!”

Drista paused, then. 

“It wasn’t sour?”

“What? No! Just salty as fuck!” 

Drista stared at him. Well. She didn’t have eyelids, so she was always staring. But Tommy got the feeling that she was staring at him in this specific moment. 

“Do humans… not drink saltwater?”

“Uh, no.” Tommy stared back at Drista. “You do?”

“How else are you supposed to get salt and water at the same time?” 

“Wh- okay, whatever, the bug aliens drink seawater.” Tommy rubbed at his face. “What about everyone else? The clan, the satyrs?”

“Well, of course they drink saltwater,” Drista said. “Actually, I don’t think the clan needs to drink water at all. But the satyrs do.”

Tommy groaned into his hands. 

“You… still need water, right?” Drista asked in a way that might’ve been awkward. 

“Yes.”

Drista grabbed her tablet and started tapping away. 

“What, Drista?” XD’s voice crackled out of the speaker. “I’m busy.”

“Tommy needs desalinated water,” Drista replied. 

“What?”

“I can’t drink saltwater, bitch,” Tommy piped in. “It’ll make me go crazy.” 

XD was silent for a moment. 

“Humans are odd,” he said finally. “Fine, Drista, I’ll have a desalinator sent to you. Don’t break it.” 

A soft beep, and Drista set the tablet down. 

“Do you really need water?” she asked, almost concerned. 

“Yeah,” Tommy said, “I really fucking do.”

Drista poked at her table, then picked up a bowl of fruit. 

“Here. They have a lot of water in them.” 

Tommy accepted the bowl, and looked down at its contents. He’d still been unable to shower or bathe or anything, so he was reluctant to poke at what looked like cubes of honeydew and get dirt on them. 

“Chopsticks,” he said, making grabby hands at Drista. Drista handed a pair of chopsticks over. “Thanks.”

The almost-honeydew tasted… interesting. Almost like coconut? Or cucumber? But more importantly, it was really juicy, and fuck Tommy needed those juices. 

“Also,” he said while chewing, “if I don’t get to take a shower soon, I’m going to riot.”

Drista was confused, based on the wiggle of her head. 

“You… need… what?”

“I’m literally filthy,” Tommy said. “I think if I go much longer without taking a bath I’m going to cry.” 

He’d been trying to ignore the Everything, but it was starting to wear on him. 

“Okay…” Drista said slowly. “I think the satyrs do something like that. You should ask them.” 

Tommy sighed. 

“Fine.” Then he stuffed another melon cube into his mouth. 

Later that night, Tommy approached Puffy. He tended to ignore Schlatt, who was usually drinking or sleeping off a hangover. 

“So, Puffy,” he said. 

“Mhm?” Puffy was busy sketching, scribbling equations to the side of her paper. 

“I haven’t been able to shower in like. A month. And I think it’s going to make me go insane.”

Puffy looked up. 

“Oh, of course, I didn’t think of that.” She turned slightly, nodding to one of the doorways leading out of the room. “Through there, there’s a door with a blue curtain. Bath’s through there.” 

“Thank fuck.” Tommy moved to get up, technically, then paused. “Wait, I don’t have any clothes.” 

Puffy got up, and rifled through some of the chests and drawers and other things that held people’s clothes. 

“Here,” she said, pushing some items into Tommy’s arms. “These should work.” 

“I don’t want to steal anybody’s-”

“Duckling, you don’t have a choice. Just go.” Puffy did keep him for a moment, nodding to his no-longer-a-leg. “But I’d suggest you avoid getting that wet.”

Tommy nodded, and made his awkward, hoppity way into the bathroom. 

Some time later, Tommy came out of the bathroom. His hair was soaking the back of his neck, his eyes stung from when he’d accidentally got soap in there, and he kept accidentally straining his stitches, but he was clean. 

He flopped down on the closest bed, dumping his armful of discarded clothes onto the floor, and instead stretched out. 

Puffy chuckled softly, still sketching. 

“Better?”

“Yes,” Tommy sighed. He eventually dragged himself to sit up, glancing over at what Puffy was working on. “What is that?”

“Figuring some things out for your leg,” Puffy replied. 

“Oh. Huh.” Tommy looked at the drawing for a moment, and the scribbled equations, then couldn’t help glancing at his own stump. He’d taken the bandages off for now, which meant that the rest was visible. Like the stitches lining where his knee used to be, and the fading red scar just underneath. He could see, quite clearly, where a part of him had been taken away. But when he closed his eyes, he could still feel it, like it had never been gone at all. 

He tried to ignore the way his thoughts immediately went to his brother. 

“When do you think it’ll be ready?” Tommy asked, to distract himself. “The leg?”

“I’m not sure,” Puffy replied, sounding distracted. “Humans and satyrs may look similar, but they have different body structures so several things need to be adjusted.”

“Mm.” Tommy didn’t really care. He was tired. Drista was way too energetic for him, with her multiple legs and childish ways. Was that how he had been, once? He didn’t know. He wasn’t the type for self-reflection. 

*****

Techno’s research attempts were thwarted by one simple fact- he couldn’t read whatever language the school tablets were set to. There were a few different language options, according to the teacher, but it was either in an End language or Satyr. 

“Why doesn’t my translator work on it?” He muttered to Tubbo. 

“Written word and spoken word are two different things, bossman, and the only kind of translators we have are for spoken language.” Tubbo stretched out with a sigh. “You have to learn to read and write foreign languages on your own. It’s why I struggled on Earth so much- I’d never actually gotten around to learning to read any of your languages.” 

“Oh,” Techno said. “I thought you were dyslexic.” 

Tubbo let out a bark of laughter. 

“For all intents and purposes, I am. On Earth, anyways.” He was lounging on a bench in the back of the room, idly kicking his feet. “Well, uh, you can always just sit in on the lessons and listen to whatever it’s about.” 

“I suppose.” 

Techno sat at the back of the room as children began to filter in, talking to the teacher or each other. It looked like these were older kids, actually, somewhere in height between Techno and Ranboo himself. The oldest seemed to know Ranboo, actually, and would exchange pieces of conversation as they entered. 

Techno watched. The other kids looked… well, younger. But more drab, too. Dustier, hair and horns dull. Clothes patched and either too small or too large. Ranboo, on the other hand, was in a pale blue dress with no stains or rips, lace trimming hems and cuffs. His horns were shiny, hair long and untangled. 

It made sense that the children were drawn to him. He was a symbol of hope, for them. 

Eventually the teacher called for everyone to take their seats, and Ranboo joined Techno and Tubbo at the back. 

Techno listened as the teacher began to speak. It had been years since he sat in a classroom, so he wasn’t familiar with what school was like. The closest he’d come to school was helping Tommy with homework over the past few years. That is, when Tommy remembered there was homework to be done. Or even wanted to do it. God, that kid had barely graduated. 

Techno finally paid actual attention when the discussion turned to geography. Specifically, galactic geography. 

“Now, we’re here,” the teacher explained, pointing to a planet projected onto the blackboard at the front, “Kwarwe-Niebo, fifth from the sun and near the inner edge of the habitable zone. In the next solar system is the planet your clans originated in, End. Seventh from the sun, and in recently conquered dreamon territory.”

A hand went up.

“Yes?”

“Why was End picked to be taken over?”

“We don’t know,” the teacher explained, “But it’s likely the planet was intended to be a jump-off point for future invasions of nearby planets in IA territory.” 

Future invasions. The entire classroom sat in silence for some time after that.

Eventually the teacher cleared her throat and gestured. 

“Anyway, we have a special guest here who’s been to many different planets, and could maybe tell us a little about some of them.”

Ranboo stood awkwardly, and waved as everyone turned to look. 

“Um. Hi. Yeah, I’m Ranboo. I have an internship on an interplanetary cargo ship, class 2-D.”

“Come on up to the front.” 

Rambo did so, fidgeting with his skirt to replace fidgeting with his tablet. 

“Well,” he said, “most recently I was on AllesWasser, the mer homeplanet.”

The teacher obligingly pulled up the image of the green-watered planet, revolving slowly and dotted with the occasional speck of land. 

“I couldn’t enjoy it fully, seeing as it was very wet, but my mer crewmate liked it,” Ranboo said. His eyes flicked to Techno, then away again. “I was there a few days longer than planned, so I got to enjoy the food and look at the vegetation.” 

“Ninety-eight percent of AllesWasser’s biodiversity is underwater,” the teacher said helpfully. “But there is still an incredible variation above water.”

Like venomous predators that made Techno hallucinate for three days and drip blood from basically anything that blood could drip out of. 

“And before AllesWasser, I was, um…” Ranboo got more awkward, glancing at Techno again. “My ship took a detour, as a favor to a friend.” 

Yeah, Techno kind of complicated this story. Though he wasn’t surprised at it- he complicated his and Tommy’s stories too. Like always, it was for less-than-legal reasons. 

“Tommy, get away from him. He’s not your friend.”

“He said he’d take me somewhere safe.”

“He doesn’t mean it. You can’t trust him, he’s a stranger.” 

“Tommy, kid, just come with me and everything will be okay. You’ll be safe.”

“Get away from him!”

“Theo!”

Techno’s eyes snapped open. 

That name. That goddamn name. He’d thought he’d left that name and that memory behind, had washed it into the past and into the drain like red dripping off his hands. 

Techno ground his teeth together. Everything was rising to the present, wasn’t it, like a corpse in the water. He couldn’t shake the feeling that it was that strange ocean, that green AllesWasser sea that had disturbed old memories and old crimes so they were finally catching up to him. 

He just had to outrun the tide. Outlast the water rushing around his ankles so he could leave it behind again. Stay ahead of the past before it dug its claws into him, caught Tommy in its sharp, bloody grasp. 

If Tommy found out…

No. No, Techno wasn’t going to let that happen. 

He’d rather die than let Tommy realize. He’d rather kill. 

He’d already killed.