Chapter Text
The crew of this space ship are all insane. Considering that this crew has also basically adopted Technoblade into their fold, so what does that say about him? They’ve hooked him up with some sweet ass clothes that makes it obvious that no one on this ship knows how to sew well.
He has combat boots now! He's always wanted a pair! Techno is not asking how they got the shoes, because ignorance is bliss and plausible deniability is a thing.
There's actually twelve aliens on this ship, not eight like Techno originally believed. Or well, thirteen counting Technoblade. Technically he's an alien too.
Now, for some reason names of these aliens are next to impossible to pronounce using human vocal cords, so with some convincing, they allow Techno to give them names.
They then asked the meanings behind the names, and holy cow is Techno glad that he's made so many DND characters with interesting backstories he's never played before. He may have also created a whole entire mythological universe with its own council of gods, but listen. How is he supposed to explain to a flaming ball of fire what ‘Jack’ means without becoming a roasted hot dog? He's not Behind The Name dot Com, he doesn't have this shit memorized.
He might have almost been an English Major, but that doesn’t mean that he’s all that creative with generating names. He wanted to become a historian; not write the next Harry Potter! Names are not his forte.
Techno wonders what these guys do anyways. So far, all they have been doing is corralling the kids of the ship. They are somehow worse than all his experiences with foster siblings combined. Ranboo is the most tolerable, simply because he is slightly scared of Technoblade, but he is still a slightly arrogant kid. Like most kids. Also apparently Ranboo can’t see anyone if there is a space pumpkin on someone’s head.
That is the weirdest thing Technoblade has ever seen, and he has seen a lot of aliens.
Overall, this ship is the best place Techno has ever been. He doesn't even have to eat meat jello and can eat actual motherfucking food. It has been so nice to eat actual meat, and actual fruit even if one fruit somehow caused him to teleport within the ship. He hasn’t touched that fruit since, because he doesn’t want to accidentally teleport himself into space.
Phil is the resident Space Dad, giving off Shiro vibes but with less PTSD and more right arm. He’s been giving Technoblade lessons on how to read the common language of space. It's been very informative, and being able to speak to someone after all these years is amazing. Technoblade has always thought of himself as a loner, that at any time he could survive being a hermit out in the woods with no interaction with another human being.
But finally being able to have a conversation with someone has just proven how much he needs someone to talk to.
Luckily, the kids on the ship absolutely love listening to Technoblade’s stories about the Death Pit. Which, Techno has learnt, is completely illegal and so is he. Humans aren’t allowed in space until the species could begin space travel for the average citizen. That, and humans are apparently incredibly violent in regards to most species. Like, on the space scale of violence, humans rank a nine. The scale is to ten and there's only about three other species who rank higher than humans.
Two of them killed each other off.
Techno never wants to meet the species that ranks above Humans, because space gods have just proven that he is not the strongest creature on this side of the world. He should never ever try to make gods prove him wrong. Because they did.
It's a normal, average space day when the call comes in. Techno is balancing a plate on a cup, to the amazement of Tubbo and Tommy when an alarm blares. Scott, who is also in the room because Technoblade couldn’t be trusted at looking after kids after locking them in the airlock, perks up at the announcement.
“ Could Technoblade and Phil please come to the Hub?” Wilbur’s voice rings out over the intercom, and his voice will always be creepy to Techno. It sounds like ghosts on a spirit box, all staticy and such.
“I’ll look after the kids,” Scott promises, like it isn't the reason why he was already there. Tommy starts yelling at Scott for the slight on his honor while Tubbo just looks disappointed that he's not going to see the next falling tower.
“It is the… Intergalactic Centurions for Unifying Planetary Enforcement on call. Get here now.” Wilbur commands, voice growing more serious. Wilbur is hardly ever serious, preferring to be an absolute shit half the time. It's fun though, ganging up on everyone while they do weird voices and make fun of everyone else on board.
Tubbo gets to see the tower collapse, as Techno stops his attempt at being neat and tidy and quickly exits out of the room.
“Have fun with the I-C-U-Pe!” Tommy calls after Techno, and Techno has to do a snort at the unfortunate acronym as he runs to the Hub. The Hub is their control room, where almost everything but some of the manual weapons systems are located. Techno is not allowed to touch anything in the Hub until he learns what every single button does.
To explain how many buttons there are in the Hub, take an airplane’s cockpit, and multiply all those buttons by twenty and a language you have never heard of using a system of symbols that you don’t know. It's insane, and Techno would very much like to leave flying the ship to everyone else, but apparently everyone needs to know how to fly the ship in case of emergency.
Good thinking, but Techno doesn’t want to mess up at all.
The Hub is also a blinding shade of orange, but there are children’s drawings all over the walls in an attempt to make the hub bearable to look at. Jack, against Phil’s wishes, told him that the gigantic letters on the wall spell out ‘Fuck the ICUPe’.
Might not be the best word choice as they were now on call with the aforementioned ICUPe and the words were clearly on display.
Phil and Wilbur were already in the room, and there was a blue alien’s face on screen. They looked worried, but confident for some reason. When Technoblade entered the room, and came into view of the screen, the blue alien’s face paled.
“ You let it roam free ?” The blue alien asks, as if Technoblade was some deadly parasite hell bent on destroying the known universe, “ Are you two insane? What if it kills all of you? You don’t know what it can do!”
“ It is right here, and so could a dedicated penguin,” Technoblade speaks with as much contempt as physically possible. It startles the blue alien, but Phil snorts and Wilbur smiles. “I’m not special.”
“ Does it speak?!” They ask, “But Humans aren’t sentient! ”
“Would you like to listen to our evidence on the contrary?” Wilbur asks, typing something onto the keyboard. A couple windows pop up, and they are recordings of some points of Technoblade’s time on the ship. When Phil taught him letters, when he got the translator implanted and Technoblade giving Scott some pointers on boxing. The biggest one was when Niki got Technoblade to speak a single sentence.
“For the reigning council on making sure that creatures are sentient, you do a poor job,” Wilbur smirks, looking directly at the blue alien. “Perhaps you have something to hide?”
“ The Intergalactic Centurions for Unifying Planetary Enforcement cannot concern itselves with every single creature that passes through our halls. Besides, Humans are not allowed in space.” If the arrogance of every single police officer could be rolled into one being, this blue alien would be that being. They believe themselves above this crew, and refuse to think otherwise.
“You are currently harbouring an illegal alien, I suggest you hand it over.”
“Sorry, we may be pirates, but at least we don’t participate in the buying and selling of sentient creatures,” Phil retorts, smirking. So that's what these aliens are, pirates. “Last time I checked, such dealings are illegal. Surely the ICUPe knows this? Unless the laws have changed from twenty decaboches ago?”
The alien on the screen mashed its teeth together in frustration. They are extremely annoyed at the current turn of events, and the fact it has just found out it's not the smartest creature in the room anymore.
“ We have not proven the sentience of the human, therefore nothing illegal has been happening.”
“Have you not looked at the proof we have given you?” Wilbur asks incredulously, and gestures to the videos on screen, “That is ample enough evidence to instate humans into the sentience list. Techno has responded to you, and did not simply repeat words back to you. The human has a translator applied and hasn’t perished; those actions are enough to simply allow him to bypass the test!”
“I could’ve died when you put the translator into my head? What?” Technoblade picks up on that little piece of information that would have been good to know before they inserted that piece of technology into his brain.
“Only if you aren’t a sentient being,” Phil soothes, patting Techno’s back in solidarity. It actually doesn't help at all, but Techno is touched starved and craves the attention.
“Sentience has not been proven by the Enforcement, therefore is invalid. We request that you hand over the human.”
“So you can sell him off to some king?” Wilbur smirks, and the blue alien pales.
“That is highly classified-”
“We’re pirates, your systems are easy to hack into. That's not my point though. We have irrefutable proof that the ICUPe doesn’t do its due diligence.” Wilbur interrupts what could have easily become a tirade. Phil presses a button on the console, and a document in the universal language appears. Majority of the words on the document are too big for Technoblade to read, and as an English major that grates on his nerves just a little bit .
“Personally, I would put humans on the sentience list. I don’t know about you, that's just my opinion.” Phil adds on, looking a little too cheerful at verbally abusing a poor member of the bureaucracy.
The alien on the screen looks ready to burst, fuming with anger and rage.
“Humans, by law, are not allowed in space.”
“Then why was he not brought back to Earth while he was in your care?” Phil asks, “That is standard practice for illegal creatures, is it not? Or has that process also changed since the last time I’ve checked.”
“How do you have access to our procedures? Those are only available to those who are in the Intergalactic-” They are starting to look frazzled, and Technoblade finds a section of wall to lean on and watch the show. He would join in, but politics on Earth were hard enough to follow along, he doesn’t know if he could keep up with space politics.
“That doesn’t matter, keep up,” Phil barks, no longer showing amusement. This is all business now. “So I’ll ask again, why wasn’t proper procedure followed? Did one of your investors decide to make a donation if ze got to have the human and have bragging rights?”
“I do not need to answer to the likes of you, Space Pirates.” The blue alien sniffed, dismissive. Likely whatever the alien referred to the crew as was something fairly insulting, but the translator just simply used the words that would best translate. Technoblade wonders what syntax would make it insulting. “The Intergalactic-”
“Oh my god, can you just call it ICUPe like everyone else?” Wilbur whines, his hand moving to his head in exacerbation, “You take way too long.”
“Hand over the human, or face the legal consequences of your avoidable actions,” They demanded, “I await your answer.”
“Our answer?” Phil repeats, confused tone before smiling, “Fuck off mate.” And he closes the call.
Wilbur stretches, before turning to Techno, “So, how does it feel to be an illegal alien?”
Technoblade mockingly thinks about it for a second, “Pretty good, pretty good.”
“That's good,” Wilbur nods back, “Say, how do you feel about being a space pirate? The benefits are bad, the pay is also bad, and you don’t have to ever eat any of that disgusting concentrated jello ever again.”
“You had me at 'never eat jello again'."
~fin~