Chapter Text
Tommy’s brain hurt.
“Hand over-give-pass” said Zombie, holding out his hand for the seed they have been exchanging back and forth for the last three hours. Since they started Tommy has gotten a few words down, of course, he isn’t sure their exact translations but hand motions have helped a little.
At least for some, it was easy. They started with edible-food-eat then Zombie started throwing shit around. It frustrated them both when Zombie would have the tablet repeat the word a million times and they couldn’t get the meaning across. Several phrases had just sounded like roaring or mumbles that Tommy’s throat could definitely not produce.
A sound like a rock rattling inside of a can- Tommy thinks that one was something to do with movement. Zombie had repeated that word and then flung his arm around in wide circles. Honestly, it was a mess, how was he supposed to know that? Pinwheeling his arm? The room? What the fuck do aliens consider proper words?
Besides edible-food-eat Tommy got handed back the seed and then Zombie had asked for it back via lots of hand motions and at some point just snatching it out of Tommy’s hand, a weird start but it eventually evolved into this give, take, a motion that Tommy had labelled hand over-give-pass.
Hand over-give-pass sounded like a raspy exhale with a whistle ending, it was long and much harder than edible-food-eat to pronounce but every time Zombie said it Tommy would hand him the seed or any object he was pointing to and Zombie would reward him with this celebration-good-yes sound. He wasn’t sure if it was a word or just like a ‘yay’ because apparently, aliens don’t really nod their heads for yes and no, which was complete bullshit.
Zombie did the sound every time he did something correctly or pronounced a word right so he might be right anyway.
Tommy had tried to exchange words, give his own language in return for the alien’s one but Zombie either hadn’t noticed or didn’t even try. Kind of rude to be honest, not even attempting to mimic Tommy’s words.
Then he had the phrase ‘hello-meet you-greetings’ or something like that. Apparently, aliens shake hands. Why would they shake hands but not shake their head? Tommy had no idea but Zombie is obsessed with touching Tommy’s hands.
Zombie had reached for Tommy’s palm which was resting on his knee and immediately Tommy had been wary, scooting a bit backwards despite knowing that if the alien had wanted to hurt him he would have done it already. The feeling of non-human skin on human skin was unnatural and weird but not bad weird, just weird. Tommy tried to ignore the feeling and focus on the sounds which were slowly blurring together in his mind.
He wasn’t even sure he would remember half of this the next day.
Zombie had taken his hand so gently and shook it up and down, warbling something short as he did it. Tommy nodded along, gripping Zombie’s hand a bit tighter and repeating the sound. He didn’t get it on the first try.
If it wasn’t hello-meet you-greetings then Tommy was going to look really stupid in the future. Learning languages was so hard he just wants a nap and a warm meal. It only made sense that the next word he learned was sleep-tired, a surprisingly easy one because Tommy hit the jackpot of not having an alien companion that slept upside down or in a hole or something, just a simple long blink and cushioning of the head with their arms will get that point across.
Sleep-tired was a hard one to pronounce, a growling sound where his lips pursed to cover his teeth to make the sound. Zombie had tried multiple different words after sleep-tired and Tommy had just laid down and ignored it. His brain was fried.
Tommy laid an arm over his eyes but felt Zombie poke his legs a bit, warbling at him, probably prompting him to try again at a word that might be ‘person’, ‘alien’, or literally just ‘standing’. He wasn’t sure when it came to the topic of beings. Was Zombie referring to his species or his foot?
The worst part of it all was the uncertainty of permanence. Zombie had tried to write down some words but they didn’t share the same language and the written form didn’t have individual letters like English did. It was probably more like mandarin and Tommy certainly did not know mandarin or even how their grammatical system worked.
Zombie wasn’t the best teacher either, getting frustrated and abandoning some words when Tommy wasn’t ready to give up. Their levels of stubbornness were wildly incompatible and Tommy didn’t really have a way to say ‘I almost got it just one more time’ besides just plain stealing the tablet out of Zombie’s hands to attempt to use it himself. The resulting scuffles that happened after this conflict caused Tommy to learn the word ‘bad-no’ very quickly.
In short, learning from scratch was a pain.
“I’m tired dude, when are your buddies coming to save your sorry ass?” Tommy grumbled, peeking up at Zombie through his fingers.
Zombie whistled. He rolled his eyes and walked up to the door, pointing at it, “When open. When?”
The alien’s face was so blank it might have been another wall. Tommy must be so smart compared to these aliens. If he could pick up three different words in the span of a couple hours and the aliens couldn’t grasp the word “hello’ in English, what a bunch of losers- wouldn’t last a day without their fancy translator technology.
“Edible-food-eat” Tommy said, pointing to the door, the word was rough against his overused throat.
“Bad-no” said Zombie, accompanied by a mixture of other words. It was totally inconsiderate that he didn’t use the words Tommy had understood so far, completely leaving him in the dust to try and decipher whatever the alien was saying.
Tommy narrowed his eyes, “bad-no” he repeated back, “Open the fucking door.”
He slammed a fist into the metal, barely a thump. He leaned his forehead on the cool surface, wishing it would magically open under his touch just like he had been wishing for the past couple of hours.
No one would think being kidnapped and starved and a little beaten would be boring but here he is, bored.
Tommy leaned against the wall and threw Zombie the bird again, the alien mindlessly repeated it back, which had lost its humour a while ago.
“So tell me, once again you stupid creature, explain why you want to teach me your language but you can’t even try to learn mine huh?”
Zombie answered him in his own gibberish. Tommy nodded along and tapped his chin thoughtfully, really drawing it all out, “That was so compelling Zombie dude, I can’t believe I had even thought of that!”
The alien responded, tapping the ground with its long finger, “Wow! That almost makes up for the fact that you are an asshole,” Tommy muttered, “You along with all your friends.”
Zombie made a weird face and Tommy did his best to copy him. The former was way more intrigued by his mimic than Tommy was, who rolled his eyes and sighed.
What would he even tell the aliens if he could be heard? Like, for real? What would be his second-first words? What would begin his whole life over again- first impressions and all of that. To think of it like that, the first words that set the tone for exactly what Tommy gets out of this situation, makes it feel very useless in the short term, maybe long term too.
You know if they decide his first words weren’t good enough- too much “Please don’t kill me!” And not enough “I can tell you everything I know!” And they end up knocking him out on the spot, using some kind of crazy alien weapon he hasn’t encountered yet, or maybe just tearing him apart with their bare teeth and claws.
Is it really worth it to try to bridge this gap if they won’t listen? Is it better to talk and let nothing come out.
It seems like he can have a very pleasant one-sided conversation like this, exchanging nonsense with his new alien buddy, who might end up selling him out later, and acting like he is content.
Zombie sits next to Tommy on the floor by the door, letting out a small chittering sound that Tommy has to concentrate to hear, one that flexes in tone with the rise and fall of Zombie’s chest.
“Sleep-tired?” Zombie asked, at least he thought that was a question, it might have also been requesting Tommy to repeat the word back, start back up their lessons again.
Tommy wrapped his arms loosely around his knees and leaned forward, “Sleep-tired,” he repeated quietly.
Zombie warbled and put a slow arm around Tommy’s shoulders, so warm against his back. Tommy froze a little under it. As Zombie tucked him into his body lightly- Tommy could still feel the tension in their arm, feather-light pressure, ready to pull back at any moment.
Tommy took a deep breath and willed his shoulders to relax. The long touch, so much different from a brush of their fingers or the firm grip on a wrist. It was both delicate and comforting, a little unsettling, a little frightening but not because Zombie played a huge part in Tommy’s misery, no not at all. He could excuse his hesitation by blaming Zombie’s dark eyes or textured skin and clothing, the blue in the corner of his vision easily shut out by tucking his face down, exposing his neck.
He could feel Zombie’s eyes on the back of his head and after a moment Zombie removed his arm. Tommy had a brief second to ache for the pressure, the burning, much like sticking his head underwater and coming up for air, wishing for the silence but running out of breath too fast. Then Zombie brushed the back of Tommy’s neck with their fingertips unexpectedly.
“What the fuck-“ Tommy shot up out of his relaxed stance and pushed himself away, putting his hand over his neck and rubbing away the tickling feeling.
Zombie was leaning back, hand still in the air, caught red-handed.
“You trying to rip out my spine or something what the fuck is your problem,” Tommy frowned, narrowing his eyes, “Can’t a man take a fucking nap here goddamn.”
“Thought we were having a moment and everything but-“ Tommy’s futile rant was cut short by the sound of the door beeping.
——
Wilbur hadn’t expected the human to show their most vulnerable spot to him, just like that, after mere hours of careful dedication and attention, he was now trusted- or somewhat trusted.
He wasn’t sure if the spot on the back of his neck, where their eyes couldn’t take vigilance of, where they couldn’t protect, what just sensitive or if the human was showing him it- saying something like ‘I trust you a little but not a lot’ but the human had run away when Wilbur had touched it, barely at that, a mere glimpse.
He didn’t want to scare him away, that was the opposite, in fact, he was awed.
The human had started barking and gargling at him, afraid or offended or mad or something else along those emotional lines when the door finally beeped, signalling the keypad was being used.
Finally, Techno and Phil had noticed his absence, took them long enough.
“Time to get this show on the road,” Wilbur said, flexing his fingers.
The door slid open, revealing Technoblade in all of his glory, a taser that numbs instead of shocks at his waist, and his teeth bared in readiness, or really just set in a grimace, ready to reprimand Wilbur instead of protect him, his hero.
Right behind him, Philza, feathers fluffed and wings spread and ready for action.
Wilbur raised his arms and stood in front of the human, who pushed himself onto his heels, already defensive- it is going great so far.
“Easy everyone- no one is dead, no one is dying, let's all take it easy…” Wilbur cautioned, shielding the human entirely and focused on his crew, “I know what it looks like-”
Phil’s feathers were disheveled, “Wilbur you, you were stuck in this room with the human for how many hours? Alone? Without medical or a way to call us- we had no idea where you were-”
Techno jumps in, “We both have warned you time and time again-”
“Do you even understand what could have happened to you?”
“Wilbur, what were you even thinking?!”
Wilbur gives a helpless body shrug, moving his hands as if he were to jump in and defend himself but coming up empty, “I don't- Look it’s all fine now-”
“Fine? You think this is fine?” Phil shrieks, “Wilbur what the fuck.”
“We all got off on the wrong foot!” Wilbur starts, “But I can show you the human is perfectly safe, smart too! I taught him our language!” He grins and steps to the side, exposing the human again who looks thoroughly cowed even if the rant wasn’t directed at him Wilbur is sure that he got the gist of it.
“Wilbur…” Techno begins, hand settling on his belt.
“No, no I promise! Look at what he can do- see,” He crouches at the human’s level, blocking most of their view of the intruders and patting his leg reassuringly, “Alright buddy, let’s do this again.”
He reaches and picks up the tablet. The human chitters a bit, barely a murmur. He hands the tablet to the human who takes it automatically, blinking a little. “You guys ready to see history be made?” He calls and then with a dramatic flourish holds out his hand to the human and says, “Give.”
A trembling silence, nobody moves.
“Alright human c’mon, give.” Wilbur tries again, using his fingers to prompt him. He is stock still, eyes flickering between Wilbur and his crew.
“Mate…” Phil whispers.
“No he can do it we’ve been learning and- and he knows lots of words you just have to hear him say it!” He insists, “Please human again, I know you can speak and do it- Let’s try something different.”
Wilbur scrambles to the other side of the room and picks up one shell of a seed, empty, a package, empty, “He can say things like ‘food’ and, and ‘sleep’ you guys just have to see it!”
“Wilbur come on-”
“No, Phil!!! He can do it! I- I saw him do it- I taught him how to do it.” Wilbur grips tightly at the hair at the top of his head, tugging it.
Phil quickly takes his wrists and pulls them away, “Wilbur you know a lot of species have the ability to replicate sounds, mimic, it’s not common but-”
“Phil you don’t understand- The human.” He looks towards the being sitting against the wall, frighteningly deep eyes staring back, understanding and complexity, and everything he knows the human can be is in that face. Techno watches the human too, leaning against the door and slightly bending his knees, wary. Wilbur knows that what Techno sees and what he himself sees are very different. Technoblade sees a creature that is temperamental and rowdy and hard to contain, unique and vibrant, a being who is valuable.
Wilbur’s valuable and Techno’s valuable are very different and the human could very well be both at the same time.
Wilbur is on this ship as a member of SBI, a smuggler, but not in the way he wants to be. He keeps their merchandise happy and healthy and he learns about them as they go and then when their merchandise does go, when they get dropped out at the distribution points he is sometimes sad to see them go.
Techno is a smuggler in the sense that he knows everything has a use. Technobade knows he himself has a use, he has been used for both good and bad things. He came from one side of the smugglers and ended up on the other end, he is here to give opportunity and purpose, and knowledge to everyone else. When Techno’s merchandise is loaded off the ship Wilbur also knows that Techno is satisfied- both in the fact that none of their inhabitants will go to bad people, and satisfied in the fact that everyone on this ship is going to do a good job.
Wilbur knows Phil wants to learn, he already knows so much but Philza learns from teaching. He is a member of SBI because he knows how the universe, the very known universe, works. He keeps it going, he turns the cogs and he makes everything tick, he is vital and he knows it. He keeps track of all their distributors and hates the unknown. When Phil’s merchandise leaves this ship Wilbur knows he is not finished, he will continue to track those shipments until they die- he has seen the numbers, the people, the connections, the whole network that Philza tracks.
Wilbur knows that for each and every single one of them, they enjoy their job, for many different reasons but a joy nonetheless.
If Wilbur knows all of this about his crew then his crew can know all there is to the human.
“Humans can adapt to anything, right Phil? we both read that in the reports.”
Phil’s feathers shuffle a little, off-put by the change in conversation, “Yes but-”
“Humans can adapt to any situation, any climate, what makes you think they wouldn’t be able to communicate with us!”
“Communicate… Wilbur sure, fine.” Phil sighs, “The human may be able to express desires, show basic commands like passing a ball, sure, let’s say it can do that effectively-”
“It can!”
Phil gives him a look, “Let’s say it can but- and that’s a big but- that is no different to the Crowol, or the Tepp, or even the Warus!”
“Phil-”
“Uh uh uh Wilbur, what is really making you so obsessed?”
Phil is staring straight into Wilbur’s eyes, connecting them completely. Phil looks stressed, there is a crease in his forehead. Wilbur can’t help but hesitate.
What makes the human different?
Wilbur doesn’t know.
He can’t answer that. Phil firmly grasps Wilbur’s shoulders, shaking him a little, “Why?” Phil whispers.
Wilbur closes his eyes and takes a breath, he brushes off Phil’s hands and stands up to his full height bar his bowed head. When he opens his eyes again his gaze is directed to his own hands. He shakes his head.
“I guess… I think I got ahead of myself.”
Phil steps backwards, nodding, satisfied with the answer, “That you did.” He mumbles.
They look up to Technoblade and the human at the entrance, both now standing but very far apart, the human is clutching the tablet to his chest and narrowing his eyes at the tall pink alien.
“We need to get the human back in their room,” Techno grunts, eyeing the human back just as warily.
Wilbur would laugh if he wasn’t so off-put, so exhausted from the day, from everything. Tired and a bit bitter. It was as if the human had energy-sucking powers, let’s hope that isn’t true no matter how much it feels like it.
“Wilbur let’s go, I think you’ve had a long day,” Phil says, putting a hand against his back. Wilbur nods, silent.
“We will put the human back and we can talk about this all later, right Wilbur?” He nods again.
They walk through the open door, past Techno and the human.
The human makes an alarmed sound, not a grunt or a squeak, but like a tough exhale of air, urging and long. Wilbur turns around to face him.
Technoblade is keeping his hands raised, trying to keep the human in the area without completely freaking him out and picking him up, also to avoid risking being bitten again but the human only has eyes for Wilbur, he ignores Techno’s looming figure and steps through the door, chasing after them.
They lock eyes and the human, with extreme amounts of concentration, desperation painted plainly on his face opens his mouth and says.
“Wilbur”