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“Remember to stick close by,” Wilbur whispered, nudging Tommy’s arm with his own. Tommy, who had heard that same statement repeated so many times by that point he thought he might just start screaming should he hear it again, did not bother to dignify it with a verbal reply; Rather, he groaned, flipped the hood of the cloak he had been lent over his head, and shuffled off the deck of their docked ship.
For all of the annoyance he had gathered, Tommy was not about to wander away from the crew of the SBI any time soon. He hadn’t ever been to one, but based on the stories Wilbur had told him, a trading outpost on an outskirt planet was not the safest place to be, even moreso for an unarmed, halfway-grown human. He was planning on sticking very close by, thank you very much.
Phil, as always, was at the head of their little procession, huge wings tucked carefully against his back, flittering about in a way Tommy had come to learn meant he was nervous. Tommy didn’t think he had much to be worried about- At least, not with the pistol strapped to his hip, hidden under a similar cloak to the one Tommy had on.
To Phil’s left was Wilbur, a single pace behind, royal blue veins standing out even more against his translucent hands in the direct sunlight. He was moving them around animatedly, telling Phil about something or another, though it was clear that he wasn’t paying much attention to the words he was letting spill from his mouth. His gaze kept flicking between Tommy and the colorful stalls lining the previously empty field, the former to make sure nothing happened, the latter to keep an eye out for anything interesting being sold.
Tommy was in the middle, and about a foot behind him was Techno, which was not very out of the ordinary compared to the other two members of the crew. The Piglin had a habit of walking at the back of his company, always one to watch and protect. He had also mentioned before that he liked being able to see them in full when walking with them and didn’t like having to turn his head to do so.
It wasn’t long before Wilbur left their little group to go investigate a shop that was a good distance away, turning their quartet into a trio. Phil, who had been attempting to corral him into letting the rest of the group follow him any of the previous times he had wanted to run off, just let him go this time, mild exhaustion tugging at the corners of his eyes, amusement doing the same to the feathers at the crook of his wings. Tommy has come to assume that the way they puffed up to expose the thin membrane underneath was an Elytrian version of a smile.
Tommy watched Wilbur slink his way through the crowd with only a bit of jealousy. He got that him sticking to the center of the group and covering his features and not going anywhere alone was to protect him, but God did it make him feel useless. Unpromptedly, a memory of watching a nature documentary came to mind, wherein pack animals would keep the young and sick to the centers of loose circles so that predators couldn’t break through and attack them. He did not appreciate his own brain comparing him to a baby elephant.
“You’re just letting him go?” Techno asked from behind Tommy, which did not at all make him jump, no sir, not in the slightest.
Phil sighed and re-fluffed his wings once again, the feathers that had risen automatically smoothing themselves back down. “He shouldn’t have any trouble. It feels a bit rude to keep him tied to his when he won’t be in danger on his own.”
Tommy’s mouth contorted into an annoyed grimace before he could stop it. He watched Phil’s eyes slide to him, pause on his now-bared teeth, and quickly jump away. Tommy forced his lips to cover them back up again. Stupid fucking human brains, why did teeth have to be included in so many emotions.
Techno didn’t seem to find any flaws in Phil’s logic, as he just shrugged and let out a small, agreeable, “Meh.”
The next problem to arise, surprisingly enough, came from Phil. A stall in a (frankly rather disgusting) shade of pastel yellow, decorated with draping vines of purple with white blossoms, had his wings flapping in unconcealable excitement. Techno took one look at him, sighed, and gestured to the stall. “Go,” He said. Phil left in an instant.
“The fuck was that all about?” Tommy asked through ever so slightly grit teeth.
“It’s sellin’ a bunch of stuff from Phil’s planet. It’s pretty uncommon to find one in big events like this. We haven’t found one in months.”
Tommy hummed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his cloak with only a little bit of violence.
Now on their own, they walked side by side. Techno was the only one who knew how to navigate, so he was a bit more in the lead, just half a step ahead of Tommy, searching through the stalls to see if there was anything he thought they might both find interesting.
Something was bugging Tommy, though. There was an itch at the back of his head, one that felt like someone was watching him, which shot his nerves to hell. It was a very large possibility that someone was contemplating kidnapping him right now.
“Hey, Techno,” He said, coming to a stop. Techno turned around, shuffling back over from where he had kept walking for a few steps. “I think someone’s watching me.”
Techno’s brows furrowed. “...What do you mean, you think someone’s watching you?”
“Exactly what I said, dickhead,” Tommy snapped back, “It just feels like there is. Over that way.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder in a vague guesstimation of where he thought the feeling was coming from.
Techno was silent for a few moments, watching behind Tommy, before: “I think you might be right.” He used one hooved hand to spin Tommy around, pointing with the other at a stall hidden behind a few others. At said stall, there was a man dressed in what looked awfully like a blue suit, though what would have been the suit jacket was tied around his waist. He had a facial covering, but otherwise looked a bit odd by alien creature standards. He had hair, brown, cropped short, and skin not dissimilar to the same tone as Tommy’s.
“Should we go over there and- like- confront him?”
“...We can.” Phil would kill them if he knew Techno had agreed, as would Wilbur, but neither of them were here right now, and they had taken all common sense and self-control with them.
Tommy took the lead this time, marching over to the stall with furrowed brows. The stall owner’s eyes crinkled up behind the mask-type thing he was wearing, which, again, suspicious. As far as Tommy knew, no other species did that, since smiling usually involved showing teeth, and every species he had met so far was terrified of teeth being shown-
Tommy stopped. Techno bumped into him, but he didn’t budge, frozen by a sudden realization. The stall owner was watching him with what was definitely amusement. He probably knew Tommy had picked up on it.
“What? What is it?” Techno hissed, trying to shove Tommy back into motion.
“I think he might be human,” Tommy choked out in reply. Techno halted mid-shove.
“The hell do you mean, he might be human-?”
“I mean exactly that!” Tommy whirled around, feeling extraordinarily frantic. “I just- He’s got a human skin tone, and he’s got brown hair-”
“Those are all completely normal things-”
“You didn’t see his eyes, Techno! He’s- They- Those are human eyes!”
Tommy’s chest is heaving, though he feels it’s a bit underserved for how short the argument was. Techno is staring at him with some unreadable emotion. Tommy doesn’t know if it’s because he hasn’t quite mastered Piglin mannerisms or if it’s because neither of them really know what they’re feeling in that moment.
The stall owner is still watching them, though when Tommy turns back around to look, he’s changed positions. Whereas beforehand he had been standing upright, now he’s leaned over, cheek in hand, elbow on the lowest display case. When Tommy looks over, he does a sort of half-salute half-wave that only solidifies Tommy’s assumption.
“We’re going over there,” Tommy says. Techno opens his mouth to protest, but Tommy grabs him by the hand and yanks. It’s not hard enough to actually move him, but it gets the message across. He’s not budging on this. Techno either comes with him or stays here.
When they reach the stall, the owner straightens back up and clasps his hands in front of him. “Hey,” He says, in that same accent that Tommy can’t quite remove from his Commontongue, “Nice to see another human around here.”
Tommy is silent for a few heartbeats, both stunned and awed. “...I haven’t seen another human since I got dragged up here,” He replies, slightly breathless.
The stall owner raises a single eyebrow. “Really? Not one?”
“No, not- no-one, but- but that could probably be because I don’t leave our ship very often.”
The other eyebrow goes up. “Is that an ‘I just haven’t bothered to leave’ or an ‘I am not allowed to leave’ kinda haven’t left?”
Tommy thinks he might puke in joy. Or pass out. Or maybe both. Not only is this guy human, he speaks English. It takes a moment for his mouth to find his brain and get back into English, but once it does, he replies, “It’s an ‘Our crew is an Elytrian, a Phantom, and a Piglin, all family species that think I’ll die if I’m left alone for five minutes’.”
Rather suddenly, there’s a shadow looming over Tommy. When he cranes his head back, it’s Techno, who’s squinting at the shopkeeper. “I understood, like, half of that.”
“You know English?” The owner asks, amused.
“Some. Our Phantom got the hang out of it a lot better than I did.”
“Well, at least you’re learning. That’s more than I can say of most people I’ve met out here.” He then turns and looks at Tommy again. “What’s your name? I’m Connor.”
Tommy can’t help the excited little shaky breath that escapes him. “Tommy,” He says, “My name is Tommy.”
“Well, Tommy,” Connor says, reaching under the little shelf that Tommy had not noticed was empty until now, “Would you like to take a look at what I’ve got?”
Onto the shelf, three crates are dropped. Upon being opened, Tommy feels like his lungs have been knocked out once again. The first is filled with small containers of nature; Strawberries, blueberries, peppers, small tomatoes, grapes, what Tommy is sure is a mint plant in a pot, and a few other types of leaves that he can’t name. Techno snuffs and takes a few steps back once the mint smell hits the air. The next is pre-packaged things, chocolate bars, canned soup, boxes of pasta, glass bottles of spices and sauces. The third is what catches his attention the most, being the most empty- At the very bottom, however, are a couple of random pieces of technology. It’s a very odd mix. Tommy notices an iPad with a cracked screen protecter, an old-gen Samsung phone, a pair of wired earbuds, what he thinks might be an iPod, and a cassette tape player, though there are no tapes to be found.
“...Woah,” Is all he can say.
“I grow most of the plants on-ship,” Connor says, a bit of pride in his tone, “And I keep them exclusively for when I see other humans coming around. They have a price, obviously, but tell me anything you see and I can name it off for you.”
“We’ve got plenty of cash,” Techno jumps in, “And if we don’t have enough, we can just sell Wilbur.” His tone does not sound very much like he’s joking.
Tommy leans over the first crate, the one with the produce, and begins to rifle through it. Hidden behind the little plastic containers of fruits and vegetables and berries are seed packets, both flowers and food. He picks up a flower one and flips it over, suddenly faced with bright red ones named cosmos.
“How easy are these to grow?”
“Pretty easy,” Connor replies, tipping the box towards himself to see into the box better, “I’d say, if you don’t have any Earth food on your ship, to get some plants, but flowers are also nice. Hell, you can do both.” He pulls out a small box of what looks like potato chunks. “Given your crewmate here,” He nods in Techno’s direction, “Potatoes or carrots would be a good vegetable to try and grow.” Techno snorts and narrows his eyes, trying to figure out if that’s meant to be a slight against him or not. “You ever grown anything before?”
“Not in the slightest,” Tommy says, “But I’ve helped take care of an old lady's flowers before, and they didn’t die, so I’m gonna count that towards my score.”
“Your score, huh?” Connor presses the small box of potato bits into Tommy’s hands, right next to the cosmos. “Plant those cut-side down about six to eight inches deep in some soil. A foot or so apart. Should grow like that.”
“Gotcha. The flowers?”
“Instructions on the packet.”
“Cool. Techno-” Startled, Techno does not get a chance to protest when Tommy pushes the potatoes and flower seeds into his hands, “Yeah, hold those. I wanna dig through these boxes some more.”
By the time Phil and Wilbur try to look for them, Tommy has amassed a small pile of what he’s narrowed his choices down to. There’s the potatoes and flowers, which he’s convinced Techno into buying, but he’s also set aside a container of strawberries, a container of bell peppers, two individually-wrapped ghost peppers (that he was both excited and appalled to find), a jar of peanut butter, a very small bottle of honey, a small box of random assorted tea packets, and a pre-potted mint plant. Techno tried to protest that one, which is how Phil and Wilbur found them.
“I think I’d rather die than get on a ship with that thing, Tommy-”
“Come on, Techno! I’ll keep it in my room! You won’t ever smell it again!”
“Why do you want it, anyways? It’s nauseating!”
“Maybe to you, pig boy!”
Tommy then jumps a few inches off the ground with a shriek when Wilbur appears over Techno’s shoulder, blunt teeth bared in a terrifying imitation of a grin. Maybe Tommy should try and practice that one with him.
“Hello, sleepy boys! What are we arguing about?” He chirps, lightweight body easily hoisted into resting on Techno’s shoulder like a parrot. Tommy sees the exact moment he soaks it all in: His nose scrunches up from the mint and his brows furrow when his eyes land on Connor. In response, Connor gives him a wave.
“Tommy wants to bring a nasty plant on board,” Techno says at the same time Tommy announces, “Connor’s human and selling things from Earth!”
Wilbur goes still from where he was swaying back and forth the tiniest bit, blinking owlishly. His tail wraps around Techno’s bicep. “What?”
“Personally, I think Tommy should get the plant,” Connor says. Tommy nods furiously. “Yes, listen to Connor, he knows what he’s talking about. I should get the plant.”
“Connor is a businessman and trying to get you to spend money,” Techno returns. Connor gives a slow nod.
“This is also true.”
Phil joins them a second later, a small, purple box under his arm, a sickly-sweet smell following him. “What’s going on over here?” Nobody answers him for a moment, so he looks around and asks, “Did Tommy find something to buy?”
“Tommy found a lot of somethings, apparently,” Wilbur says with a gesture to the pile on the booth.
Phil’s feathers do a little shuffle and he leans forwards. Tommy vaguely remembers being told it’s the Elytrian way of conveying confusion. “What is all this?”
“Stuff from Earth!” Tommy exclaims at the same time Techno says, “Earth stuff.”
Phil straightens up rather suddenly, a buzz-like noise leaving him. “Earth stuff?” He repeats, slightly incredulous.
“Yes, look, come look!” Tommy reaches over and grabs him by the forearm, tugging him to the booth a little bit harshly. Phil’s hip bumps the protruding edge of the shelf. “Look, okay, so- We’ve already bought these-” Tommy holds up the potatoes and cosmo seeds, “-And I was planning on waiting until you two got over here so I could ask about the rest of it, but Techno’s absolutely convinced that I shouldn’t get this mint plant-” He slaps the leaves of it for a second, “-when really, he should be worried about the ghost peppers-”
“I should be worried about what now?” Techno squawks. Tommy waves him off before turning to Phil with a bright grin.
“So! Thoughts? Opinions? Money that I can have?”
Phil sits there and blinks against the onslaught, then says, “Where did all this even come from?”
Connor raises his hand and smiles behind his mask when Phil’s eyes find him, not that anybody but Tommy can tell. “Hey. I’m Connor. I, uh- I’m a human. I grow shit.”
Phil only looks more lost after that. “Human?”
Tommy bops his head up and down. “Yeah, yeah, he’s human, I already had my moment of shock, I’m trying to buy shit!” He holds out one hand, desperately fighting back the wide grin that he can feel trying to appear on his face. “Your wallet, old man.”
That seems to snap Phil out of it. “You can’t have my wallet, you little shit, I wouldn’t ever trust you with that.”
“Aww, but Phillll, I-”
“Ah, ah, I wasn’t done. You can’t have my wallet, however, you can have some of my money. How much is this gonna be, uh- Connor, right?”
“Yessir.”
Tommy then zones out as Phil and Connor proceed to debate prices back and forth. Techno also does not look like he’s paying any attention, so Tommy shimmies closer to him and headbutts him in the forearm.
“I’m gonna feed you guys so many potatoes,” Tommy mumbles.
“I’m gonna throw your mint plant out through the air lock.”
“I’m gonna give you a pepper in your potato and fucking kill you and your weak system.”
Techno snorts. “As if.”
“You ever heard of capsaicin, big man?”
“I have,” Wilbur pipes in, ever helpful. “It’s a pretty common poison on me and Techno’s home planets.”
Tommy can’t even fight back the slightly malicious grin that appears. “Yea-hah, that. It’s in a lot of chili peppers back on Earth.” He jerks his head at where the wrapped ghost peppers lay. “Those right there? They’re some of the hottest peppers ever grown. There’s, uh- There’s this scale, right, for ranking how hot thi- er. How spicy things can be. And just straight-up, completely pure capsaicin is… I think it’s at 16 million? And ghost peppers are at, like, 1 million, uh- 41 thousand, I believe? Something around there.”
Wilbur is staring at him like he’s just announced the explosion of a sun. “...You… You bought poison.”
“Not yet, Phil’s gotta pay first. And they’re not poisonous to me, dickhead, just you aliens.”
“But isn’t it- Isn’t it dangerous?”
Tommy shrugs. “Probably, to be honest. It’s supposed to be a test of strength or something to be able to eat them. Most people can’t even go past one bite.”
“Why the hell would you buy that, then? You don’t have any other humans to flex about that to.”
“Just for the hell of it. It’ll be funny.”
Techno chooses that moment to chime in. “Elytrians aren’t poisoned by capsicin.”
“Huh?” Phil turns around upon hearing his species, mid-way through handing over the payment for everything in Tommy’s pile. “What’s this about poison?”
“Tommy’s b-” Wilbur is cut off by Tommy slapping him on the thigh. Wilbur shrieks and aims a kick at Tommy’s head, which misses when Tommy takes an easy step away. “Nothing, Phil! Just making small talk.”
Phil gives him a suspicious look but finishes handing over the money regardless. Connor whistles, leafs through it, and then pockets it. “Thanks. And, Tommy-?”
“Yeah?”
“Stay safe out there, man. Space is not kind to humans.”
“A-fuckin’-men,” Tommy grumbles. He shakes Connor’s hand, passes off the things he got to any of the crew members with an open hand or arm, and they depart back for their ship.