Band on the Run

*

Drax set his glass down on the wobbly metal table. “I preferred the other establishment.”

Rocket took a long tug off of something green and fizzy, wiping his whiskers. “We ain’t exactly welcome there after somebody called Ronan and blew half the place up.” He downed the rest of the glass, then gestured for another. “I know you’re not drunk enough to forget that.”

“It would be hard to get drunk here,” Drax commented. “They serve weak drinks.”

“They serve cheap weak drinks,” Rocket corrected him. “Which is an important consideration given how little money we’re making with Quill.”

A Kylorian waitress in a skirt far too tight and far too small came over and refilled Rocket’s drink; she turned to Drax, but he waved her off. “I told you when I joined the crew, I’m not interested in money.”

“Ya can’t eat for free,” Rocket spoke. He opened his mouth to add to his comment when Groot gesticulated from his pot, issuing a squeaking noise.

“Thirsty again?” Rocket asked him.

Groot’s tiny head bobbed up and down.

“I’ll get ya some ice,” Rocket told him, ignoring his tiny friend’s frown. “You don’t wanna drink what passes for water in here.”

“Would they not just make ice cubes from the water you don’t want him drinking?” Drax asked.

“Details, details,” Rocket griped, waving the waitress over again. “Glass of ice for my friend here.”

The waitress furrowed her brow, looking at Drax, until Rocket pointed to

Groot. “My little friend.”

The waitress grinned. “He’s so cute!”

Groot raised his slender arms and spoke, a high-pitched unintelligible squeal that sent ripples of laughter through the waitress. “I’ll be right back,” she said. 

“Sheesh, good thing Quill isn't here,” Rocket said. “He could get her in the sack in less than a minute.”

“I doubt Gamora would approve,” Drax spoke.

“Where’d she get off to, anyway?” Rocket asked as the waitress returned with a glass filled with ice.

“She declined to say,” Drax said, taking another gulp of his drink, grimacing. “Given her mood, I prefer her silence.”

Rocket nodded, sliding the glass close to Groot, who bent over and grabbed an ice cube with some difficulty. He shoved the cube in his mouth, but it proved too large; he gripped it with both hands and held it while he sucked on it as best he could.

“I just wish he’d find us something other than these freakin’ humanitarian runs,” Rocket groused. “They don’t pay so good.”

“We agreed to let Peter choose the missions,” Drax pointed out. “It’s his ship, and we follow his lead.” He considered his drink, then put it back down. “They also build on our reputation as the saviors of Xandar.”

Rocket made a spitting noise. “They make us look weak. ‘Ooh, there go the Guardians, delivering bandages to babies and puppies on some planet nobody cares about.’” He shook his head, slurping down some more fizzy green drink.

“Many people care for Xandar,” Drax noted. “Just not us.”

“It ain't just not us,” Rocket said, picking up the ice cube that popped out of Groot’s mouth and handing it back to him. “Anyone with any sense doesn’t want to be anywhere near Xandar. Too goody-goody.”

Drax nodded. “I share that assessment.” He drank some more, frowning, and put the drink back on the table. “I care little about which missions Peter chooses. None of them bring me any closer to Thanos.”

Rocket stared at him. “You homicidal idiot, Thanos is the last person, place or thing you want to get close to in this universe – not galaxy, universe, as in every- freakin’-thing there is. Except for maybe Galactus.”

“I have no quarrel with Galactus,” Drax spoke.

“Lucky for us,” Rocket snapped. “Didn’t you learn anything from your little vendetta with Ronan?”

“I have already admitted my rash actions with regard to Ronan put you all in danger, and I have apologized for it.” He regarded Rocket. “You are my friend, and I will not ask you to pursue Thanos with me. I shall do this on my own.”

Rocket raised his glass. “I’ll say somethin’ nice at your funeral.”

“That would be appreciated,” Drax said.

Groot leaned over and tapped Rocket on the arm, gesturing toward the glass; he could not reach the ice. Rocket handed him another cube.

“I believe Peter is seeking out less hazardous missions so as not to jeopardize us,” Drax ventured. “Our fight against Ronan very nearly got all of us killed. You should be grateful he values your life so.”

“He oughtta be grateful Yondu dropped that bounty on him,” Rocket said.

“Forty thousand would buy a lot of drinks.”

“I would stop you if you tried to turn in Peter,” Drax said. “Gamora would too.”

“I’m just jokin’,” Rocket told his companion. “It’s great to be loved by your friends, really.” He frowned, looking over Drax’s shoulder. 

Drax furrowed his brow. “What is it?” he turned quickly, only to see, as Rocket had, Gamora heading back toward the ship with a purposeful stride.

“Should we return to the ship and see what is troubling her?”

Rocket laughed. “Miss a fight between her and Quill? Not on your life.” He downed the drink, belching, and paid the tab. “Can you carry Groot? He’s always heavier after he drinks.”

Groot looked at Rocket, then turned to Drax and held out his spindly arms.

Drax scooped up Groot’s pot in one hand and headed out of the bar; Rocket snatched the glass of ice off the table and followed him.

*

“Galador thanks you,” Lahuni spoke. “I thank you as well.”

Peter glanced at his account balance on the screen. “I’m glad we could help,” Peter said. “I don’t suppose you could be a little more grateful? It’s not just me anymore. I sorta have this crew now.”

Lahuni shook her helmeted head. “It would be dishonorable to alter the terms of an agreement.”

Peter grinned. “It really wouldn’t.”

Lahuni remained motionless, and not for the first time Peter found himself vaguely irritated by the Galadorian custom of completely covering themselves, male and female, so that no part of the body showed. Makes them almost impossible to read, which I guess is part of the point. “Perhaps you would do well to recall that there are others on Knowhere who would take pleasure in denying you any commerce at all,” she said. “The Tivan family is not renowned for its forgiveness.”

Peter held up both hands. “You’re right, you’re right. I appreciate the work.” He glanced around Lahuni’s tiny office, which sported no windows at all, four sparsely decorated walls painted an ugly shade of yellow not unlike rotting bananas. “You have anything else available?”

Lahuni shook her helmeted head. “Your ship is too small to act as escort for any caravans I might be arranging, and there are few other settlements of Galadorians in this quadrant.” She paused a moment. “I will keep you in mind in case something unexpected arises.”

Peter nodded. “Okay. Well, good luck with the Sultans of Swing.” He turned toward the door.

Lahuni’s helmet angled. “I beg your pardon?”

“That whole war thing you’ve got going on with Dire Straits,” he explained. “The Dire Wraiths,” Lahuni corrected.

“They’re shapechangers,” Peter said. “They could be both.” He let himself out before the conversation could continue, closing the door behind him and glancing inside the tavern next to Lahuni’s Exports before deciding he was short enough on units as it was without drinking handfuls of them away. I bet Drax and Rocket are already drunk, and Gamora... He stopped for a moment, then continued walking.

She sure seemed pissed when we landed, he thought as he threaded his way along the crowded pedestrian area. Most of the mining companies were situated a little toward the front of the head from where he was, but some of them, as well as the shipping concerns and exporters, housed offices within easy reach of the bars and brothels of Wisdom Tooth Row, which, as far as Peter knew, was merely an attempt at a witty name. Do Celestials have wisdom teeth? Or even teeth? He made his way around two Kree girls who wore far too little to be tourists, returning their grins, but he kept moving. Just my luck, I’d be tangled up in blue, and that’s when Drax would barge into my quarters with some stupid question, and I’d never hear the end of it. Or Gamora would barge in, and that would be the end of it, period.

As he approached the ship he spotted someone seated on a discarded crate, regarding his vessel.

“She’s a beauty, isn't she?” Peter asked the man.

The man looked up at him, a smile on his drawn, dirty face.

“She sure is,” the man agreed. “She’s a real—“ He stopped, smiling. “Hey, you’re Star-lord!”

Peter grinned. “Sure am. That’s the ship that saved Xandar. My ship.”

“Fantastic,” the man said. “Do you know Drax the Destroyer?”

“He’s a close personal friend of mine,” Peter said.

“He’s the one who stood up to Ronan the Accuser,” the man said, rising from the crate. “Could you tell him ‘thank you’ when you see him next? I’m an awfully big admirer of his, it would mean a lot.”

“Sure,” Peter drawled. “No problem. Happy to oblige.”

The man nodded and shambled off.

Peter entered the ship muttering under his breath and began divvying up the pay while he had the place to himself. He thought about cutting his own take a little to make the others think the reward had been a little higher than it was, but then he reasoned that Groot had done nothing but sit in a pot the entire time. But Groot will complain to Rocket, and then Rocket will nag me for days on end. He redid the payments, splitting the units into five even deposits, when he recalled Groot can’t talk yet and skimmed a small amount away from the potted plant, directing the bulk of it to Gamora and Rocket when the ship signaled him that someone was coming aboard. Please be Drax please be Drax, he thought.

“Peter!” Gamora’s voice carried down to the hold, where he loitered. Hid. “Peter, I know you’re here.”

For a brief moment Peter considered staying absolutely still, motionless, so she couldn’t hear him; then he reasoned things would go worse for him if she thought he was hiding, so he called out, “I’m down in the hold.”

He could hear her tread as she approached the ladder. “Come up here,” she said. “I need to talk to you.”

“Any reason you can’t come down?” he asked.

“It smells down there,” she said.

“You know, Rocket crawls over every inch of this ship,” he tossed back up.

“It’s gonna smell the same everywhere.”

“Peter!” she snapped. “I’m serious.”

“When are you not?” he groused quietly, climbing up the stairs.

“What?” she asked him.

“I said, ‘man, you look hot.’”

She folded her arms. “Stop trying to distract me.”

“Did it work?” he asked, grinning.

“No,” she spoke.

He shrugged. “Have to try harder next time.” He moved past her, heading toward his cabin.

“Peter!” she called after him.

*

He paused at the door of his quarters, then turned to face her. “Can we talk about it in my cabin?”

“We most certainly can not,” Gamora replied.

“How about the cockpit?” Peter asked.

Gamora regarded him. “How about right here?”

“Fine. But you do look really hot in the indirect lighting,” he told her.

“Peter,” she said, “I need to talk to you about the money we're getting from our missions.”

He leaned in toward her. “Look, don’t tell Groot or Rocket, but I gave you a little extra from this last one because, well, Groot being a potted plant and all, he doesn't deserve a full share.”

“That’s not what I care about,” she spoke.

“You don't care about money now?” Peter asked. “Whatever Drax is drinking, he must have slipped you some. I gotta get some for Rocket, then I could pocket the entire take.”

She ignored his grin. “I’m not bothered by the amounts, although they do seem a bit low for the effort we’re putting into the missions,” she said. “What I am concerned about is—“

He held up a hand. “You sure you don’t want to have this chat in private?”

“No,” she answered. “I mean yes, I am sure.”

“Because Drax and Rocket are back,” he said. He tilted his head toward his cabin. “We’re right here.”

Gamora sighed.

“Don’t let us interrupt,” Rocket said from the hatchway.

“You said there would be fighting,” Drax said, setting Groot down. “There’s no fighting.”

“I assumed there would be,” Rocket said. “She looked pretty pissed coming back here.”

“You were following me?” Gamora asked Rocket.

“Only one way back to the ship,” Rocket answered. “We sorta had to.”

Gamora returned her attention to Peter. “Let’s continue this conversation elsewhere.”

“But you’re right outside his room,” Rocket spoke. “I promise we won’t listen at the doorway or anything.”

“Rocket’s got a point,” Peter said.

Gamora glared at him, her fists clenching.

Drax said, “This argument will almost certainly lead to a physical confrontation of one sort or another, none of which I have any desire to witness. Come, Rocket.”

“And miss the best part?” Rocket asked. “No way!”

Groot squealed, but Rocket merely chuckled in response.

Drax lifted Groot’s pot. “They do not need us spectating on their amorous altercation.”

Gamora stared daggers at Drax. “That is not going to happen!”

“Yes they do,” Rocket said. “We could give them pointers, especially the broad. She couldn’t’ve gotten up to much lovin’ while she was a member of Ronan’s hit squad.”

Gamora turned to face Rocket. “My romantic life is none of your concern.”

“Honey, you don't have a romantic life,” Rocket spoke.

“Out!” Gamora seethed. “Now!”

Rocket shrugged. “I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” he said. “You know, for an assassin, you’re kinda touchy.” He looked up at Drax. “Let’s go. I’ve got some booze stashed around here somewhere, the good stuff, not like that swill back in the bar.”

“That would be best,” Drax said. “We should be respectful and let them copulate in peace.” The three of them headed down toward the hold.

“We are not going to copulate!” Gamora yelled after them.

“We’re not?” Peter asked. “Ever?”

“Not right now we’re not,” Gamora assured him.

“So it’s not off the table,” Peter said, “it’s just not on tonight’s menu.”

“Peter,” she sighed.

“Is that the problem? Is that what you really wanted to talk to me about, that I haven’t been showing you enough attention?”

“No,” Gamora said.

“But that is a problem, I know. I promise I’ll do better.”

She folded her arms and went silent, staring at him.

“Okay,” he said, “what is it?”

“I don’t like it that you’re excluding me from collecting the payments with you,” she said.

“That’s what you’re upset about?” Peter asked.

Gamora nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“You’re the one who’s always saying we need to trust each other,” Gamora said. “That includes you.”

“Fine,” he said. “Done. Next time I go to fetch our pay, you’re more than welcome to come along.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don't say it,” he said, moving closer. “Show me.”

“Show you what?” she asked.

“Show me your thanks,” he said in a low voice.

“I’ll show you my thanks when you get us a real payday,” Gamora said, stepping past him, heading toward her own quarters.

Peter watched her round the corner, staring for a moment even after she had passed from sight, when he heard Rocket’s laugh echoing up from the cargo hold. After a brief paused, he moved to join the others.

*

“My dear Mr. Quill,” the Broker spoke, “how good it is to hear from you. How may I be of service this fine day?”

Peter frowned at the small, glitchy hand-held screen, rapping it against the railing, which did little to improve the picture. “Broker, how’s it hangin’?” Peter asked.

“It’s hanging acceptably,” the Broker returned. “And yourself?” 

“I suppose you know why I’m calling,” Peter spoke.

The Broker grinned. “Do enlighten me.”

“I was hopin’ you might have a job for me,” Peter said.

“Nothing would make me happier than to do business with the saviors of Xandar,” Broker spoke.

“And...” Peter prompted.

“It’s rather more of a ‘but’, I’m afraid,” Broker said. “Xandar’s economy has taken a turn for the worse following the massive destruction caused by Ronan’s attack – even though you and your crew ably stopped him from destroying the planet, for which we are still exceptionally grateful – and the market for, shall we say, exclusive items has fallen off sharply.” He leaned in toward the screen and lowered his voice. “I’m barely getting by as it is. A large payday would be out of my ability to facilitate at the moment. I am most sorry.”

“Me too,” Peter nodded, killing the connection. He sighed, gazing out at the long row of mining pods for a moment, and rubbed his forehead, trying to will away the headache. Last time I try to keep pace with Drax and Rocket, he thought as he tapped the screen again.

The image of a handsome man with light pink skin appeared. “Well, if it isn't Star-lord, Xandar’s favorite son! What’s up?”

“Parkoran,” Peter greeted the Xandarian. “How’s tricks?”

“Same shit different day,” Parkoran returned. “Where the hell are you? Did they forget to pay their lighting bill?”

“Knowhere,” Peter replied.

“You don't love us on Xandar anymore?” Parkoran asked.

“There’s not enough work on Xandar,” Peter said.

“And yet here you are calling me, so there must not be much work on Knowhere either,” Parkoran said. “Look, I told you, if anything good came up, I’d call you, right?”

“Yeah,” Peter said.

“And have I called you?”

“No,” Peter said.

“So where does that leave us?” Parkoran asked.

Peter stared at the screen. “Nothing?”

“Nothing worth your while,” Parkoran said. “Look, I have some shit work, but you’re way out there at Knowhere, and this is all local scrub jobs I’m talking about, you would hire a Badoon orphan to do it. I wouldn't insult you with stuff like this.”

“Go ahead, insult me,” Peter said.

“Seriously,” Parkoran said. “I would love to slide something your way, to have my business affiliated with Star-lord, I really would. But I just don't have anything worth your while to do. Not shittin’ you, my friend.”

“Ok,” Peter sighed. “Call me when you do.”

“You’re at the top of my list,” Parkoran managed to squeeze in just before Peter terminated the call.

He looked out at the pods again, remembering the last time he’d been in one, dodging Necrocraft and saving Gamora’s life; that brought a grin to his face, but she won't stay around forever if you can’t pay her. He furrowed his brow and tapped the screen again, trying a third number. A puffy yellow face stared out at him. “Peter Quill,” the face spoke. “An honor to hear from you.”

“We both know you have no honor, Oker,” Peter spoke.

“Then I’ll steal some of yours,” Oker said. “What’s on your mind?”

“Getting some decent-paying work,” Peter said. “You think you can help me with that?”

“Love to,” Oker said. “Define decent-paying.”

“Anything thirty or over,” Peter said.

Oker tsked. “Hmm, that’s sorta high-end for me.”

“I’ve done jobs for you that paid fifty,” Peter said.

“On occasion,” Okar agreed. “This not being one of them.”

“Nothing?” Peter groused.

“Nothing for more than thirty,” Okar said. “I don't even have anything for more than twenty. Wish I could help you.”

“I know, I know, it’s an honor to do business with the great Star-lord,” Peter said.

“Hell with that,” Oker said. “You work cheap and you’re reliable. That’s why I like doing business with you. But I got nothing worth your time, nothing in your range.” Oker gestured with one hand. “Tell you what, ditch that crew of yours and take some of my lowball stuff. We both make out.”

“No can do,” Peter said. “Thanks anyway, you greedy yellow bastard.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Oker spoke.

Peter grinned and ended the call.

“Man, I wish this headache would go away,” Peter spoke. “Both of them.”

*

Oker sat back in his plush chair. “Good enough?” he said.
Yondu nodded, handing him a folded wad of scrip. “Perfect. That boy’ll be beggin’ to come back to work with me before you know it.”

*

“Anybody seen Gamora?” Peter asked as he made his way down to the hold.

“We have all seen Gamora,” Drax said, his gaze intent on the screen in front of him. “She is a member of the crew. Why do you ask such a strange question?”

Peter shook his head, stepping over Groot, in his pot on the floor. He waved at Peter, but Peter didn't see him.

“Rocket?” Peter asked.

“Yo,” Rocket returned, buried to his torso in the ship’s guts.

“Have you seen Gamora?”

“She’s not in here,” Rocket said. “She wouldn’t fit.” He emerged from the conduit. “Also, it’s too dirty. She’d bitch about that.”

Peter shot him a look.

“Keepin’ track of the broad is your department,” Rocket said. He lifted a large wrench and dropped it, causing Peter to wince. “How’s that hangover treatin’ ya, Quill?”

“It's fine,” Peter lied. “Neither of you knows where Gamora is?”

“You don’t either,” Rocket pointed out.

Peter ignored the remark. “What are you working on?”

“I’m tuning your port engine,” Rocket said. “I noticed when you take off fast, which is often, your ship lists a little to starboard, Star-lord.” Rocket chuckled at his pun. “Anyways I figure at some point we’re really going to have to get out of someplace in a hurry, and I don’t want the ship listing to one side and getting shot down.” Rocket picked up the wrench and said, “You’re welcome.” He bent back into the conduit.

“Drax,” Peter said. “Any idea where Gamora is?”

“She does not discuss her comings and goings with me,” Drax answered. “She seemed moody earlier when she left, but since she always seems moody, I took no special notice of it.” He turned away from the screen. “Do you have work for us?”

“Not yet,” Peter said. “Still workin’ on that.”

Drax nodded and returned his attention to the screen. Peter moved behind him, peering over his shoulder. “What are you researching?”

“They say Thanos makes his home on an inhospitable rock called Sanctuary,” Drax replied. “I am trying to discover its location. It is not a simple task.”

“This is a question I’m going to regret asking,” Peter said, “but why are you trying to find Thanos’ house?”

“Not his house, the titan himself,” Drax corrected.

Peter remained silent.

“When Ronan killed my family, he was working for Thanos, so it is Thanos who is ultimately responsible for their deaths,” Drax said. “He must pay for his crimes.”

“We are not going after Thanos,” Peter said.

“No,” Drax said. “As I told Rocket, I would not endanger my friends so, even if you all asked to help me.” He glanced at Peter. “I will seek him out myself.”

Peter put a hand on Drax’s shoulder. “Good luck with that.”

“Thank you,” Drax said, leaning forward to peer at the screen. Peter turned to leave when he felt a tug on his pants leg. He looked down to see Groot tugging on the fabric, free of his pot.

“Hey, you’re free,” Peter said.

Groot nodded and held up his arms. Peter picked him up. “Hey, guys, Groot’s free of his pot.”

Drax said nothing; Rocket’s voice issued from within the ship. “Great, great. He’s gonna need a shower, Quill. Lotsa water.”

Peter looked at Groot. “How long does he stay small like this?” he asked.

Groot squeaked something in reply; Peter couldn't make out what it was. “What was that, little buddy?”

“I’d be good and damned surprised if it was anything other than ‘I am Groot,’” Rocket said.

Peter glanced over his shoulder. “I know it was probably ‘I am Groot,’ I’m just trying to be nice,” he said. “Right Groot?”

Groot nodded his head up and down, then raised his arms and lowered them slowly, his tiny fingers wriggling back and forth.

“Shower?” Peter asked.

Groot nodded.

“Hey Quill, why don’t you call Gamora?” Rocket asked.

“Don’t you think I tried that?” he replied. “She’s not answering.”

Rocket emerged from the conduit. “Maybe she’s mad at you.”

“Why would she be mad at me?” Peter asked.

Rocket shrugged, looking through the tool box. “She gets mad at everybody. Just figured maybe it was your turn.” He selected a spanner and sank back into the ship.

“Come on, Groot,” Peter said. “Let’s get you some water.” Groot nodded his agreement.

*

“We can talk freely,” Gamora spoke at her portable screen.

“I’ve heard you are no longer working solo,” her caller said.

“Your sources are well-informed,” Gamora said. “Although with our images plastered all over Xandar, they’d have to be living in a cave not to know that.” She regarded his small image. “What do you want, Kalenn?”

“Straight to the point. I’ve always admired that about you, Gamora. You’re all business.”

“Flattery is pointless,” she said. “Why do you contact me?”

“Because I need your help. This crew you run with, they have access to a ship?”

She nodded.

“Good. One of my teams has run into a bit of trouble and I need an extraction.”

Gamora frowned. “You have no ships of your own?”

Kalenn shook his head. “The peace treaty the Kree signed with Xandar has allowed them to set their sights on my people,” Kalenn said. “As you’d expect, a weapons dealer finds himself stretched thin at such a juncture.”

“The Kree are attacking the Shi’ar?” Gamora asked.

Kalenn nodded. “As it turns out, the only thing holding them back was fear that the zealot Ronan would turn his attention on his own people and they would be forced to deal with him.” Kalenn grimaced. “You solved that problem for them nicely.”

“And now they’re settling old scores,” Gamora said.

“Many,” Kalenn agreed. “Business is booming. I really shouldn't complain; I’m making scrip faster than I can count it. Which is why I can afford to pay you handsomely to go fetch Pessar and his team for me.”

“Where are they?” Gamora asked. “And how much?”

“How does four-hundred-thousand strike you?”

“As exorbitant,” Gamora returned. “Where are they?”

“On a little outpost called Kaptilo,” Kalenn told her. “The Kree aren’t headed directly there, but they’re in the vicinity, and they’re unlikely to overlook a bunch of Shi’ar gunrunners.”

Gamora asked, “They have no ship of their own?”

“Damaged in the landing,” Kalenn disclosed. “Kaptilo’s mostly jungle, and they stupidly set down too close to a sinkhole. Their ship is damaged beyond the ability of that small outpost to repair.”

“I’ll run it by the captain of my ship,” Gamora said. “But I doubt he’ll be able to resist a payday as big as you’re offering.”

“Don't take too long to decide,” Kalenn spoke. “I’m not paying for corpses, I need them alive. And the Kree are being extremely thorough. Like I said, they may not be headed directly there, but it’s only a matter of time – a small matter - before they discover Pessar and exterminate him. Or worse, capture him and torture him for information.”

Gamora nodded. “I’ll contact you as soon as he decides. It shouldn't be too long.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” Kalenn said, making a pinching motion toward the screen that ended the call. Gamora slid her small screen into her pocket and headed back to the Milano, which was close by. She had learned that when she desired privacy that she didn't always have to travel a great distance from the ship. She often preferred to, but all she had to do was head in the direction away from the taverns on Wisdom Tooth and none of the rest of the crew would ever bump into her. She boarded the Milano after a short walk, only to find Drax and Rocket in the hold.

“Where’s Peter?” she asked.

“He was here not long ago, seeking you,” Drax replied.

“He was?” Gamora asked.

“He’s taking a shower with Groot,” Rocket answered, his voice echoing along the metal floor. Gamora looked down and spotted Groot’s former home.

“Groot is free now?” she asked.

“He was always free,” Rocket said. “He hangs with me because it’s a good living.”

“You know what I mean,” Gamora said. She glanced at Drax. “Are you still researching Thanos?”

“I was,” Drax admitted, “but it seemed to upset Peter, so now I’m searching for a local bar that doesn't serve thinned-down drinks.”

“I’m sure you’ll find one,” she said. “There are only thousands of them here.” “That’s what is making the search so challenging,” Drax said. “So many choices.”

Gamora rolled her eyes. “Peter!” she called out.

“Can’t hear you in the shower,” Rocket said, emerging from the tube. “You gotta clean your ears once in a while, you don't hear so good.”

Gamora turned and climbed the stairs, heading toward Peter’s cabin. A knock on the door revealed that he wasn’t there, but she could hear water running, so she moved to the room Rocket inhabited, following the sound.

She could see from the doorway Peter sitting cross-legged on the floor just outside the shower, his shirt off as he watched Groot showering. The tiny flora drank as much water as he could, his mouth open, humming as he washed himself. Peter turned around suddenly, looking at Gamora. He stood up, a smile sliding from his face, and she saw why he had stripped; his torso was wet, droplets running down it, and she drew her eyes away from it with some hesitation.

“Gamora,” he said.

“Peter,” she returned.

They stared at one another for a moment. “Groot’s free of his pot,” Peter offered.

“So I see,” Gamora stated. She took a step into the room, but it smelled very strongly of Rocket’s aroma, so she stepped back out. “I have something to tell you, but I’d rather do it in private,” she said.

“We’re pretty private now,” Peter said, closing the shower door. “Is he safe alone in there?” Gamora asked.

“He’s wood,” Peter said. “He’ll float. What did you want to tell me?”

“Private,” she said, “as in off the ship.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Just you and me?”

“That would be indicated by ‘private,’ yes,” Gamora replied.

“Like a date?” Peter asked, moving closer.

Gamora’s dark eyes flicked down to his torso and back up to his grin. “Like a date,” she agreed.

“Like a date, or a real date?” he pressed.

Gamora met his eyes. “If you want this to be a real date, you’ll have to buy something nice to wear,” she told him. “And you’ll have to take me someplace expensive enough to impress me. Which on Knowhere won’t be easy.”

“I’ll think of something,” he said. “Eight o’clock?”

“What I have to say is somewhat pressing,” she said. “Make it six.”

“Six, you got it,” he spoke.

Gamora turned to leave. “Drax is researching taverns. He might be able to suggest someplace.”

“You think I’m gonna take dating advice from Drax?” Peter asked.

Gamora shrugged. “Do as you like. I have errands to run. I’ll be back at quarter-to-six. Be ready,” she said, heading down the exit ramp.

Peter started to head down to the hold to talk to Drax when he remembered Groot and darted into the shower. Groot seemed to have grown a few inches already, but he could not reach the controls. Peter shut off the shower and scooped him up. “Let’s take you to see Rocket,” he said.

*

“No,” Peter said. “Keep checking.”

Drax pulled up the next restaurant on his screen.

“Lookie what we have here,” Rocket spoke, popping the cover on a handheld device and poking around inside.

“Hey, don’t take that apart,” Peter told him.

“Do you even know what this is?” Rocket asked. “Do you just collect shiny stuff, or did you raid the Ravagers supply bin and grab whatever looked cool when you split on them?”

“That’s a Chronotomic Image Builder,” Peter said.

“Very good,” Rocket said, inspecting the wiring. “It could use a little maintenance, by the way.” He disconnected the power source and began to work. “You know, if you amp one of these babies up, they can project a lot more than what ruins used to look like.”

“Don’t break it,” Peter said. He looked back at Drax’s screen. “No,” he pronounced. “Keep going. Try the nicer places.”

“You cannot afford the nicer places,” Drax said.

“Let’s pretend I can,” Peter said. He looked over at Rocket, who already had the device in a dozen pieces on the floor. “I said don’t break it.”

“Nothin’ wrong with my hearing,” Rocket shot back. “This thing will work so well when I’m done with it, you could sell it back to Yondu for twice what it’s worth.” Rocket scratched his nose. “Maybe three times, if I can find that stabilizing chip for the projecting lens.”

“I’m not selling it back to Yondu,” Peter said.

“I assume you stole it from him,” Rocket said. “I can’t believe that bald blue idiot ever actually gave you anything other than a hard time.” Rocket picked up a piece, then put it back down. “After all, he did threaten to eat you.”

“That was a long time ago,” Peter said. To Drax he said, “Keep going.”

“You couldn’t afford that place anyway,” Drax commented.

Groot leaned over and lifted a small piece, offering it up to Rocket, who inspected it, then inserted it back into the Image Builder. “Speaking of eating, I wouldn’t take Drax’s dining recommendations. He said he’s partial to Skrullian eel.”

“I said I had tried it and did not vomit,” Drax spoke. “This one,” he said. “A Taste of Xandar. Classy and expensive. Excellent reviews. Just what you’re looking for.”

Peter peered, watching the visual tour of the place.

“If you wanted a taste of Xandar, why don’t we just go back there? I’m sure you could use your heroic reputation to get a free meal somewhere,” Rocket said.

Drax leaned back in the chair to get a line-of-sight on Rocket. “He seeks to impress Gamora,” the big man related. “A free meal would not do so.”

“You’re doin’ all this for her?” Rocket asked.

“Though I’m not sure why, at the moment,” Peter said. “Seven unit signs? That’s the most expensive rating on the guide.”

“Which is why you must choose it,” Drax said, pressing the button to make a reservation.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked.

Drax swiveled in the chair to face him. “Gamora is not one of your conquests that you can simply discard and forget,” Drax spoke. “She will still be here if you treat her badly, and she does not impress me as one who forgives easily.”

“Look who’s freakin’ talkin’,” Rocket put in.

“When I was wooing my Hovat, before she was my wife, I treated her to only the very best. She had many other suitors before me, but I bested them all – some in combat, some by perseverance, and the rest by treating her as she deserved, like a queen.” He went quiet a moment, then added, “You must tread the same path if you wish to win Gamora.”

“Big and beefy over there might have a point,” Rocket said. “And keep in mind, she can carve you up nine ways to Sunday if you piss her off, so don’t, you idiot. Get her the good champagne and the flowers and all that crap. Chicks love that stuff.”

“Excuse me,” Peter said, “of the three of us, who has taken the most women to bed? The talking raccoon or the guy so hung up on his wife he tried to kill Ronan single-handedly to avenge her? I’ve had my share of women, I know what girls like.”

“Okay, Casanova,” Rocket chuckled. “I get the ship when she guts you.”

“Precisely, Peter,” Drax said. “You have bedded many girls. But this is a woman, the daughter of Thanos, and your usual tricks will not work.”

Rocket pointed at Peter. “You goin’ dressed like that?”

Groot shook his head no, waving both hands.

“Nah, I gotta get a monkey suit too,” Peter said.

“Why would dressing like a simian impress Gamora?” Drax asked. Peter sighed. “Just find me a tailor, quick.”

Drax stood up. “I am not your matchmaker. Find a tailor yourself.” He turned to Rocket. “Are you finished with that device? I found another bar we should try.”

Rocket snapped the Image Builder closed. “Done and at least ten times better than it was before I cracked the case.” He tossed it onto a pile of parts and said, “Let’s go get smashed.” He leaned down, extending one arm, and Groot climbed up onto his back. He spoke, but it sounded more like a whistle than words.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll get you some ice,” Rocket said. He turned to Peter. “Quill, don’t screw this up. Human blood is a really hard stain to get out of almost anything.”

Peter, scrolling through the listings for tailors, ignored him.

*

Gamora paused at the entrance. “Here?” she asked.

“Something wrong with this place?” he asked.

Gamora shook her head. “No,” she spoke.

Peter turned to face her. “You said expensive enough to impress you,” he reminded her.

Gamora nodded. “Very well,” she said, stepping through the door after he opened it for her. Inside A Taste of Xandar, the waitstaff all wore Xandarian-style uniforms, stiff, formal navy blue jackets with white trousers and dark shoes. A bald woman whose skin tone matched the brass buttons on her jacket approached them. “Quill, party of two?” she asked.

Peter nodded, glancing at Gamora. “That’s us.”

“Right this way,” the hostess spoke, heading into the dining room.

Gamora noticed that while Peter’s suit had been cut to a more casual style than the quasi-military jackets the waitstaff donned, the blue was nearly the same hue, which almost made her grin. Peter held out her chair when they arrived at the table and she sat. Her own outfit she had actually purchased before they had left Xandar, an indulgence especially because she had doubted she would ever wear it; her black suit jacket was similar to his, though fashioned from velvet. A dark blouse peeked out from beneath it, and black leggings with a sheen completed the outfit. She had forgotten about shoes and had spent a half-hour polishing her only pair of black boots. Peter sat down, that charming smile on his face, and he said, “You look fantastic.”

Gamora offered him the tiniest of grins. “You bought something nice to wear.”

“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I had this in the back of my closet.”

Before he could continue, the waitress returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. When she had finished pouring for them she took their orders and withdrew. Gamora took a sip of wine, liked it, and asked, “Have you ever gone to this much trouble for a woman?”

“This isn't trouble,” he said. “Rescuing you from the void of space was trouble.” He smiled. “This is just treating you to what you deserve.”

She glanced around the restaurant, which had been decorated in the older, more formal style that had been the rage on Xandar a generation ago: columns decorated with astronomical bodies gently twirled as they rose to a high ceiling; deep blue tapestries hung along the windows, parted at the moment to reveal the celestial view of a nebula; and tiny amber lights floated a few feet above their heads, providing intimate if intermittent illumination. “This is far better than what I am used to,” she told him. “But it is appreciated.”

“You only get one chance to make a first impression,” Peter said, sipping on his wine. “And I know, you live on the ship, it’s not like you don’t know me. But you don’t know me like this. In this way, I mean.”

Gamora took a little more wine. “This is certainly private, away from the others,” she said.

“We could have done that on that bench you like to sit on right around the corner from the ship,” Peter said. At her look, he added, “You thought I didn't know about that? You don’t always walk halfway across the head to get some alone time.”

“You followed me?” she asked.

He nodded. “I wanted to talk to you one time, so I followed you out of the ship and saw where you were headed. But you looked like you really wanted to be alone, so I let you be.”

“I am still unaccustomed to living with others,” she said. “Even others who are my friends.”

“You don’t have to explain it to me,” Peter said. “I’ve been alone most of my life.”

“You had Yondu and the Ravagers,” she said.

“Have you met those guys?” Peter asked. “They’re better than no family, yeah, but they’re not better than this family. Us. You know, our family, the Guardians.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “I completely get needing your alone time, but I also get needing a family as well.”

“Peter,” she spoke, lowering her voice, “there’s a reason why I wanted privacy.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

“I’m all ears,” he promised.

“I found us a job,” she said.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Not exactly what I was expecting.”

“I know you’ve been trying hard to find us a substantial payday, and I wanted to tell you privately so you could present it to the others as if it were your idea, your arrangement.”

He withdrew his hand. “I don't need you to make me look good in front of the team,” he said.

“Apparently, at least this time, you do,” Gamora said.

He stood up, scowling at her.

“If you storm out, I’m still going to stay and enjoy my meal,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “I’d rather enjoy it with you here.”

Peter sat back down. “You undercut me,” he hissed. “You went behind my back.”

“He called me,” Gamora explained.

“He?” Peter growled. “He who?”

“A Shi’ar arms dealer named Kalenn,” she spoke.

“I didn't know you were cozy with bird people,” he said.

“Says the man who slept with an Aaskavarian,” she noted.

“It was one time, and it was for a job,” he said.

Gamora regarded him. “Kalenn was a business contact who always came through in a pinch. Our relationship was purely professional – just like this one will be if you continue to act jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Peter lied.

“You have nothing to be envious of,” she said. “Kalenn is a valuable resource but I find him personally repugnant.”

“What’s the pay?” Peter asked.

“Four-hundred-thousand,” she told him.

“What?” Peter asked, too loudly.

She shushed him. “That will keep the others off your back for a while.”

“Actually, the only one on my back about all this was you,” he said.

“Although I’d rather be on your back.”

She looked at him quizzically for a moment, then narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think you’d get to be on top?”

Peter was spared the burden of a reply by the arrival of their food. When the waitress had left, Gamora said, “Eat up. You’ll need your stamina.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but he grinned. “Will I now?”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a long flight to Kaptilo.” She shot him a smirk as she dug into her meal.

*

The Milano banked gently as she soared away from Knowhere, heading in the general direction of Shi'ar space.

"It is impressive how far one must travel away from Knowhere to see it for what it really is," Drax said as he gazed out the window at the Celestial head. "I do not think I would enjoy tiny people crawling around in my skull."

"First of all, you'd be dead, so you wouldn't really mind it, and second of all, you get the same view going in," Rocket said. "You get to be impressed then. Unless you're me, I was asleep the first time I came here."

"Really?" Peter asked.

"Asleep, incarcerated," Rocket said. "Same difference.” He looked down at Groot, who lay curled up slumbering in his lap. “So where exactly is this little hellhole you’re taking us to, Quill?”

Peter glanced over his shoulder; Gamora occupied the seat next to his, with Rocket and Drax seated behind them. “Kaptilo,” Peter replied. “It’s not too far inside Shi’ar space.”

“Kraptilo?” Rocket asked. “Never heard of it.”

“There’s not much there,” Peter said.

“So why are we headed there?” Rocket asked.

“An extraction job,” Peter supplied. “Couple of people are stranded there, we have to retrieve them. Real gravy run, but they’re desperate to get off-planet.”

“How desperate?” Rocket asked. “Fifty thousand? A hundred?”

“Somewhere in that neighborhood,” Peter said.

Gamora looked at him but said nothing.

“So who are these rich, desperate idiots we’re picking up?” Rocket asked. “Old friends of yours?”

“Not exactly,” Peter said. “They work for Kalenn, this Shi’ar—“

“I know who Killer Kalenn is,” Rocket said. “Everybody on this side of the galaxy has heard of Kalenn. I didn't figure you for someone who would associate with him.” Rocket stared at Peter and narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute, this smells funny. He’s not an old friend of yours, he’s an old friend of the broad’s.”

Gamora hissed at him, “I’m right here.”

“And I’m right here next to ya, sister,” Rocket said. “So you called Kalenn—“

“Kalenn called me,” Gamora said. “I have no love for the man or his employees but he is paying us handsomely to fetch them.”

“Are they in some kind of trouble?” Drax asked.

“Not as far as we know,” Peter said. He looked at Gamora. “Are they?”

She shook her head.

“It seems odd that we would be tasked to retrieve them with such haste if they were not in danger,” Drax observed.

Rocket frowned. “What are you not telling us?”

Peter looked over at Gamora. “What are you not telling us?”

Gamora remained silent a moment. Finally she said, “The Kree are moving into Shi’ar territory. While they haven’t specifically targeted Kaptilo, there’s no doubt what they’ll do if they discover some of Kalenn’s men.”

“Forget it,” Rocket said. “Better them than us. Even if they are paying a hundred thousand units.”

“He’s a weapons dealer,” Gamora pointed out. “Maybe if Kalenn is grateful, you might be able to add to your arsenal.”

“It’s not worth it,” Rocket said. “The Kree are a race of sociopaths who are always at war with somebody somewhere. They live for violence. They crave it like we crave money.”

“I do not crave money,” Drax said, “and I would be happy to face off against the Kree.”

“If we’re lucky, no one will have to face off against anyone,” Peter said. “We swoop in, get Kalenn’s people, and blast back into space before anyone knows we were ever there. Easy payday, no pissed-off Kree, just a very wealthy and grateful weapons dealer. Who may become a useful contact in the future.”

“You wanna blow stuff up, just ask me,” Rocket said. “I can build you weapons for whatever you want.” He frowned. “Your scenario is assumin’ everything goes right.”

“We should assume we cannot do this?” Drax asked.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’,” Rocket spoke.

“That’s what it sounds like,” Gamora said.

“Look, Rocket, guys, we already agreed to it,” Peter said. “Now anything you wanna take along with you on the planet so you feel safe, by all means, do it. But we are going to Kaptilo, we are picking up those Shi’ar, and we are going to be very richly rewarded by a guy who sells death for a living.” He glanced at Gamora and Rocket. “I’m not seeing any downside here.”

“How about freakin’ Kree warships that make the Xandarian Star Force look like kiddie toys?” Rocket asked. “Not to mention getting on the bad side of an interstellar empire full of crabby blue people.”

“They’re not that bad,” Gamora said. “They have a peace treaty with Xandar.”

“Which they made so that they could attack the Shi’ar,” Rocket noted.

“They’re probably grateful to us for taking care of Ronan,” Peter spoke.

“They stole your idiot Walkman and your idiot mixtape,” Rocket snarled.

Peter held up both hands. “Let’s not make this personal. I cracked that guy’s skull with the orb.”

“If they’re willing to sink that low, who knows what they might be up to with the Shi’ar?” Rocket asked.

“I already told Kalenn we would do it,” Gamora said, “so this bickering is pointless.”

“My bickering is never pointless,” Rocket said. He looked at Gamora. “If you committed us, fine, I got your back. But like I said, something smells funny about this. I’m just sayin’, everyone keep your eyes open at all times.”

“I was planning on sleeping during the trip,” Drax said.

“When we get there,” Rocket amended.

Drax nodded and shut his eyes.

*

“Are you sure this is the right planet?” Rocket asked, inspecting the display.

“Kaptilo,” Peter said. “Definitely the right place.”

“Look at this place, it’s nothing but jungle, where it isn't ocean. Why would the Kree bother coming here?”

“Shi’ar,” Gamora supplied.

“For that matter, why would Killer Kalenn send people here? Who is there to sell weapons to here? Natives? And what are they gonna pay for them with? Beads? Leaves?” Rocket shook his head. “Somethin’ don’t add up.” He hopped down off his chair. “I’m gonna go wake Drax.”

Peter looked at Gamora. “Rocket’s got a point. There’s not much down there.” He checked a few other displays. “No Kree in the area either.”

“Did you want a Kree fleet nearby?” Gamora asked.

“Not really,” Peter said. “I just hope we got here before them and not after. I doubt your buddy is gonna pay for corpses.”

“Kalenn is not my buddy,” Gamora said. She lowered her voice. “I didn't know it was so easy to make you jealous.”

Peter said, “I told you, I’m not jealous of him. If I’m gonna be jealous of everyone who knew you before me, I’d have to be jealous of Thanos too. Which I’m not.”

“Take it from me,” Gamora said, “it can be a blessing not knowing who your father is.”

“But you were adopted,” Peter said. “That counts for something.”

Gamora leaned forward, peering at the largest screen. “There,” she said. “There’s a settlement.”

Peter squinted. “Settlement feels kinda generous for that speck. Camp, maybe.” He rotated the image, zooming in. “I’ll be damned, they have a spaceport. A tiny ass landing field that probably doesn’t even sell fuel, but they have someplace we can put down.” He frowned. “Why didn’t your birdy pals land there? Why would you try to land in the jungle and fall in a sinkhole? What are these guys, morons?”

“They’re arms dealers, not navigators,” Gamora said.

“Yeah, you didn't go to flight school, but you have enough common sense not to try to land a spaceship in the middle of a jungle.” He shook his head. “Rocket’s right. Something’s fishy about all this.”

“The Shi’ar are desperate,” Gamora said. “For decades they have counted on the balance between the Kree and Xandar to keep their ailing empire safe. Now that the Kree have secured a long border, the Shi’ar know they’re in for a dark time. It could mean the end of their empire.”

“And we get to feed off the corpse,” Peter said. “Well, call your contact, let him know we’re here. And have him get everyone to the spaceport. I’m not dropping the Milano into a sinkhole for this guy.”

Gamora flashed him a grin as she withdrew her portable screen from her pocket. Peter zoomed in further on the display. “Hey, they’ve got ships down there,” he said.

“Pessar,” Gamora said. “We’re in the system. We should be there shortly. Round up everyone at the spaceport. We’ll touch down and get your people.”

“Why didn't they just charter one of the ships already down there?” Peter asked.

Gamora shrugged.

“We’ll be there,” Pessar promised. Gamora closed the call.

“They’re arms dealers, they have money,” Peter said. “So why not charter a ship?”

“Kalenn’s scrip isn't good enough for you?” Gamora asked.

“His scrip is fine, but if has that much to throw around, then he should have given his people some so they could hire their own ride.” He looked at her. “None of this strikes you as a little hinkey?”

“Hinkey?” she repeated.

“Weird, oddball, screwy,” he explained.

“There could be a local war going on, which we would know nothing about,” Gamora said. “Or maybe he’s arming the settlement against the Kree. Kalenn could have any number of sound reasons for wanting to do business here. I’ll admit some of the circumstances feel odd, but he’s an arms dealer. He and his people have to be circumspect in who they contract with. Maybe the locals turned his people down and refuse to fly them out of here.”

“Maybe they sabotaged their ship and we’re heading down into a war zone,” Peter said.

“That’s possible,” Gamora said. “I suggest we pack extra weapons, just to be safe.”

“I wish Groot was more than a sapling,” Peter spoke. “We’re headed into a jungle. A walking tree would be a big help.”

“See if he’s strong enough for us to take. Normally I’d argue against it, but you raise a good point.”

Peter looked at her.

“What?” she asked.

“This is the sort of thing you were trained for, isn’t it?”

She set a hand on his. “You don't ever want to learn the kinds of things I was trained for,” she said. “Go get Rocket and Drax. I need to figure out which of my weapons I’m going to bring.”

“All of them?” Peter suggested.