There was a Foundry-class fighter ship, with the Hels insignia emblazoned on it, crashed right in front of where their ship had landed, and there was a human unconscious in the pilot's seat. This was concerning for a multitude of reasons. Firstly, other than the few official diplomatic envoys, no humans were supposed to be this far out in the galaxy. Secondly, Foundry-classes were all but outlawed these days, and they weren't even the most modern class by the dude who invented them. Thirdly, the Hels were notorious criminals, and in conjunction with the other two factors, this painted a very nasty picture.

At least the guy who invented the Foundry-class happened to be one of the three of them. Tango was a mechanic-turned-stunt-pilot, after the ability that made his ship designs worth the cost of production had become outlawed and he had to seek other sources of revenue. Also with the group was Zedaph, a roboticist that had invented most of the goofy gadgets that cluttered Tango's ship; and Skizz, Tango's co-pilot, since he needed one for legal reasons.

The three of them were out on this backwoods planet because Tango wanted to try some more risky and probably-illegal stunts, and Zed and Skizz wanted to make sure he didn't die in the process. Which brought the group to their current conundrum: the Foundry-class, and its pilot. While they'd always skirted the edge of legality with what they did, they tried their best to stay on the good side. They most certainly didn't want to get involved with displaced humans, or, Prime forbid, the Hels. At the same time, however, they couldn't just leave this guy here.

They had a few options, to be fair. They could've picked him up and help patch him up, but that would've probably sent both the Hels and the Admin authorities after the trio. They could've, instead, smuggled him back to Earth, but that could've gone wrong in a myriad of ways, too. Of course, if they'd left him to his fate, the they'd have had not just a life, but a life of one of the newest species to the galactic playing field, on their hands, and that wouldn't have sat well with any of them.

Eventually, the trio's consciences got the better of them, and they dragged the human out of the crashed Foundry-class, and into their own ship, a modified Titan-class with the illegal bits removed (much to Tango's grief). Well, Zed and Skizz dragged the human out; Tango just stared mournfully at the ship. Mechanics.

"Hey! You gonna come help!?" Skizz called, slipping into his all-too-familiar lighthearted annoyance. "We could use a hand or four here!"

"Nah, you two have this." Tango replied. "I'm gonna go start up the ship."

Eventually, the trio had all made it back to the ship, and Tango was taking off, while Skizz and Zed were setting up the human in the ship' small medical bay. One of the benefits of your main pilot having four arms is that the co-pilot is literally only there for legal reasons, and so Skizz was actually able to help Zed with the human. Once that matter was dealt with, at least until the guy came to, they settled in for the journey back to the base.

———

When Impulse woke up, he was not where he last remembered being. He was resting on a small (but comfortable) couch-bed-thing, instead of being in the pilot's seat of that fighter he'd stolen from his captors. He instantly froze up. He'd been captured again, and this time they probably wouldn't let him go as easily. Great. He tilted his head ever so slightly, so as to take better stock of his surroundings.

He was in a medium-sized fighter ship, much like the one he'd stolen, but with a slightly different internal plan. Still, he wouldn't have been surprised if someone told him that this ship and that one had been designed by the same person or were part of the same line. Not that he could understand the language that the aliens spoke. Speaking of aliens, there seemed to be three of them with him. One of the ones with horns and hooves, that looked kinda like sheep; one of the tall purple-and-black ones with the horns; and one of the four-armed ones with the vestigial wings.

Impulse tensed at the last one, the one piloting the ship - a lot of his guards had been of the four-armed variety, he couldn't help himself. Unfortunately, the tall one noticed the movement, and was over to him in an instant.

Surprisingly, the alien didn't seem to want to attack him or stick a needle in him. That was a first. Impulse relaxed a little, until it (he? they? Impulse wasn't quite how the concept of gender applied to these aliens, if at all) offered him a strange device. Impulse gingerly took it, not wanting to get on this one's bad side. He looked at it, confused as to what he was supposed to do. The alien gestured to its pointed ear. Impulse lifted the device to his own ear, and the alien nodded. Cautiously, ready to pull away if something hut him, he placed it on his ear. With that, the alien began to speak a language Impulse didn't know.

"Universal translator." The device supplied a translation for him. "Not good with human-language yet, but enough."

"Don't take me back?" Impulse asked. If he could communicate with these creatures, maybe he could get them on-side.

"We are not with Hels." The alien shook his head, laughing. "They're bad. Don't want to be involved."

"Why am I here?"

"Hurt." The alien replied, pointing at Impulse's arm. He'd been so caught up in his surroundings, he hadn't even noticed it was in a cast. "But safe now." The alien added.

"Safe now?"

"Safe now."

I skipped day 4 because I ran into a bit of a motivation sink on this project. Sorry about that. I've never been good at writing challenges. I suppose that's why they're challenges. I might go back and write it later; if so, I'll amend this note.

Day 3 can be found on my ao3: EntropicThyme. I'm not putting it here because it's short, messy & unfinished.

At least I already had the AU for this one ready.

I've been Entropy, peace out from the present!