Chances
177A Bleeker Street
New York, New York
Earth
The elderly man regarding the door had to have been in his nineties. Despite that he still had a shock of white hair haloing his bald head. His well-trimmed mustache was as white as the hair on his head. He was stooped with age, but not beaten by the years that came with it. His horn-rimmed photo receptive glasses had tinted in the sun, making it hard to see his eyes. He was thin, but not dangerously so.
He gripped the knocker mounted to the center of the door, giving it three strong raps, before taking half a step back. A moment later it opened to reveal a young man of Asian descent in a dark robe. “May I help you sir?” he asked with a slight bow.
“Why yes young man,” he replied good naturedly. “Would it be possible to speak with the Master of the house,” he asked innocently. Despite that the emphasis on the word ‘master’ was unmistakable.
“I am afraid he is quite busy at the moment,” the younger man replied apologetically. “May I inquire as to the nature of your visit?”
“Yes, tell him I have a proposition for him; one that I feel he will be most interested in.”
“Sir” the young man demurred “I feel I must warn you that his interest in business is minimal.”
“Well, why don’t you let the Sorcerer Supreme make that determination?” he asked innocently. The younger man’s eyebrows launched themselves upwards at the mention of Steven Strange’s little known title before he regained control of his face. It was only a momentary lapse, but one likely not missed.
The novitiate hesitated momentarily. “May I ask whose proposition he will be hearing?” The young man asked cordially.
“Oh, how inconsiderate of me,” the elderly man exclaimed. “Please tell him Mr. Lee would like to see him about a very urgent matter.”
“I will inform him of your arrival,” the novitiate said. “Would you care to wait inside?” he asked stepping back into a bow, sweeping his hand towards the interior of the building.
“How gracious,” the elderly man said thankfully, taking a shuffling step towards the door. The novitiate held a hand out to help him over the threshold. Once the elder man was inside, he turned to shut the door.
As the light pooling the entryway was cut off the façade of a kindly old gentleman flickered, revealing a pale skinned creature that could not have come from Earth. Ebony Maw silently cursed Nebula for the damage she’d done to his disguise device. Fortunately, the young man had had his back to him when the malfunction occurred. Hopefully there would be no more until he was finished shackling this Sorcerer Supreme.
>>
In FTL
Five Minutes From Xandar Prime
“Look, I’m not disputing that you have a way with people,” Quill said to Tony, with just a hint of sarcasm in his voice “but the Xandarians know us. We gave them the orb for safe keeping. Let me take the lead,” he added, glancing at all in attendance. The pilot’s compartment was actually quite cramped. Aside from those two Steve, T’Challa, Gamora, Nebula, Vision, Thor, Rocket, and Heimdall were all in attendance.
“Might they be a little miffed that you’ve handed them a piece of bait?” Steve asked.
“And I’m less concerned with who does the talking then who calls the shots,” Tony added before anyone could answer.
“Oh, and I suppose that should be you?” Rocket sneered.
“Not particularly my strong suit,” Tony replied offhandedly. “But, in my experience, neither is it yours,” he added, directing that last back at Quill.
“We can worry about who’s in charge if it’s necessary,” Gamora snapped, cutting Peter’s response off. “Pushing the engines should buy us enough time to get the stone and get out before he gets here anyways,” she added, sounding more hopeful than sure. In truth, anything was better than listening to them whine about who was in charge.
“And then we’ll have the bait,” Rocket added pointedly.
“Rocket,” Gamora and Quill snapped warningly.
“What?” the raccoon asked defensively. “Have any of you considered that if we manage to get this thing we’re going to be running for the rest of our lives? You’re nutzo father isn’t going to stop looking you know.”
“You have an alternative plan?” Thor asked.
“Well, no . . . not per say,” Rocket replied sheepishly.
“Then you would prefer to give him the Power Stone?” Thor persisted.
“All right I get it,” Rocket snapped.
Before anyone else could say anything, the ship came out of FTL. The view screen at the front of the chamber flickered on automatically, presenting the view forward of the ship.
“Is that an asteroid field?” Vision asked. “I’ve never seen one, but it looks.”
“It’s debris,” Nebula stated bluntly.
“One would have to destroy an entire fleet of ships to create such a cloud,” Vision replied.
“And yet the destruction is not complete,” T’Challa spoke up, gesturing to the side of the screen where a dozen ships were holding station.
“What are they waiting for?” Gamora asked.
“They await reinforcements,” Heimdall replied with a certainty they couldn’t question. Besides, it made sense.
“It won’t matter. We’re too late,” Nebula stated harshly.
“I don’t think so,” Tony replied, stopping her motion. “Can you zoom in on that section,” he asked pointing to the upper hemisphere of the planet. Heimdall hit a few buttons and the view expanded.
A collective gasp followed as the view zoomed in on Thanos’s ship, orbiting the planet. The view of that monstrous ship provoked many reactions among the viewers. Thor couldn’t help but think how close Loki was; he longed to get aboard that ship and rescue his brother. Tony, Peter, and Rocket felt a resolve hardening; this monster would not best them again. Gamora and Nebula felt a dread wash over them; there were no happy memories from that ship. Heimdall and T’Challa felt suddenly small; the realization that they were big fish in little ponds was striking. Vision and Steve couldn’t help but feel an awe at something that huge.
Gamora was the first to speak. “He wouldn’t still be here if he’d found the stone,” she said with conviction.
“What difference does that make?” Rocket demanded. “We can’t make it past that,” he added pointing at the screen. “And even if we could we’d have to get by fat and ugly just to get the stone.”
“Why’s he even here already?” Quill asked. “Didn’t you guys say something about a settling in period before he could place another stone?”
“Or use the current stone,” Tony added. “That’s what the data we were given stated,” Tony said.
“Well, either the data is flawed, or your calculations are,” Quill said pointedly.
“Or he decided he didn’t need the gauntlet to break through the Nova Core,” Rocket countered.
“You think he’s sitting in the vault waiting for the timer to expire?” Gamora asked.
“Why wait; why not just take the stone with him?” Thor asked.
“It’s supposed to be placed in a weapon,” Rocket replied. “Even he couldn’t hold it for long.”
“So?” Tony asked.
“He doesn’t have any other weapon,” Gamora explained. “And he’d never trust the stone to anyone else. If your right about the penalty for installing a stone before the gauntlet is ready, he’ll wait.”
“We need to get down there,” Steve said. “Stop him if we can, before he can use the gauntlet. Or take the stone if we can’t.”
“A noble sentiment, but it leaves the issue of how we get past the ship that just destroyed an entire armada,” T’Challa pointed out.
“You go around,” Clint said from the doorway to the chamber. All turned to look at him, granting a variety of different looks. He ignored them all in favor of stepping into the room. “Load everyone into the ship we have docked. Do a short FTL hop to the other side of the planet. Then disengage, make a quick re-entry and skirt the surface to wherever we need to go,” he said, ending lamely.
“That’s a precision jump in a giant tub next to a massive gravity well,” Quill complained. Several confused glances redirected themselves his way. “It’s like trying to throw a dart past a massive magnet and still get a bullseye,” he explained.
“Could you do it?” Tony asked Peter.
“You do know who you’re talking to don’t you?” Peter asked, adding just a touch of arrogance to his voice.
“Not really,” Tony replied offhandedly.
Peter blinked, and somehow fought down the urge to use their ever depreciating time to expound upon his virtues. “If anyone here can it’s me,” he replied with finality.
“Please, you’re the hotshot that almost got us crushed by an asteroid field. If anyone’s going to pull this thing off its me!” Rocket replied, jamming his thumb into his chest.
“Me?” Quill yelled “we’d have been fine if you hadn’t-”
“Do we really have to do this now?” Gamora cut in.
“We are all going to die,” Nebula muttered to herself fatalistically.
“And neither of you is better than the other,” Gamora continued in a voice that belied arguing.
“What if we jumped in the smaller vessel?” Steve asked.
“Then the dart would be smaller,” Peter replied, leaving the implications of how much that would increase the difficulty unspoken. The bigger ship was clearly their best chance
“Fine, we use the Nostromo,” Tony stated.
“It’s called The Statesman,” Quill corrected him.
“Whatever,” Tony replied, brushing the diversion off. “You two can argue over who pilots. Get everyone else suited and into the . . . what do you call it?” he asked.
“Vengeance,” Nebula said simply.
“Fine, get everyone into the Vengeance.”
“Wait, who put you in charge?” Peter asked.
“I second that,” Gamora said.
“Do any of you have a better option?” Tony asked pointedly. There was no response. “Does anyone here believe we won’t be targeted if he gets all the pieces?” They remained silent. “Then by all means, lets bicker about who gets to make the call.” Again, there was no response, unless you count the flush of embarrassment on certain parties faces. “Then let’s quit wasting time,” Tony concluded before turning to leave.
Steve caught up with him in the corridor. “You really do need to be a little more circumspect Tony,” he chided.
“We don’t have time to coddle the children,” Stark replied without breaking stride. “Christ it’s like a daycare in there,” he added, revealing a well of annoyance that was surprising considering he’d only known these people for three days.
“That’s not the point,” Steve replied. “Being right’s often just a booby prize. You can’t keep talking down to everyone and expect them to continue cooperating with you.”
“And how exactly should I address people who refuse to see the blatantly obvious?” Tony replied.
“Not everyone’s brain operates in FTL Tony,” Steve continued as they entered the cargo deck. “Part of being a leader is giving people a chance. You can’t expect everyone you meet to keep up with you. It doesn’t make them idiots.”
“I don’t need them to think as fast as me,” Tony replied. “They just need to be able to listen to reason.”
Steve grabbed Tony’s shoulder and turned the shorter man to face him. “We need them to listen to us in combat, not ignore us because we’re condescending,” he said in earnest.
Tony blinked at that statement. His gaze went distant for a moment as what Steve had been trying to say hit home. It occurred to him that perhaps he wasn’t as immune to ignoring common sense as he’d thought. For whatever reason Rogers innately grasped what he was trying to explain, and he was trying to explain it without the clipped sarcasm that had become Tony’s modus operandi. Not that such a mode of communication didn’t have its uses, but he’d never considered that it might be something that would hurt his authority. Probably because he’d never sought that authority in the first place, but that didn’t change the fact that he needed it now.
He gave an abashed grin and presented Steve a tight grudging nod before continuing. “Sorry,” he said as they came back on course “it’s been a rough week.”
“Try a rough year,” Steve replied with a grin. Tony chuckled at that.
“I’ll apologize to the others later,” he added as he keyed his containers open again. “Right now, we need to get everyone suited up.” Several of the people from Earth were already stepping into the containers. They’d all been shocked when he’d shown them the custom-tailored powered armor suits he’d made for each of them, particularly after the argument previous.
Tony grinned slightly as he watched them approach gingerly, as if sneaking up on a sleeping guard dog. Even after most of a day of practicing they still viewed the suits as foreign bodies. But, however they felt personally, they each saw the advantage of a powered armor unit.
“On the Vengeance,” Steve agreed.
“God that’s a stupid name,” Tony complained.
“Try and keep that observation to yourself,” Steve replied with a grin of agreement. Instead he turned to face the rest of the contingent from the briefing. Gamora and Quill were in the lead. Groot and Rocket were both absent.
Tony followed suit. As he saw the approaching group their still warm conversation replayed itself. Steve was right. He knew that. He just didn’t know how to not be blunt. For the first time in a long time he just wasn’t sure what to say. Steve glanced at him, surprised at his lack of vocalization.
“I thought you said Rocket was too short to pilot this ship,” Steve said for him.
“He said he and Groot could handle it,” Peter replied.
“Well then,” Tony said slowly as if still not sure if he was on solid conversational footing “I have some generic suits that should fit most of you.” Steve turned yet another surprised expression on the technologist. Just trusting the people he’d known for years with his technology had been a shock for said trustees. Trusting nearly complete strangers, at least one of them being a full patch member of Psychopaths Universal, was unbelievable.
“Thanks, but we’re not interested in using retro tech,” Peter replied, just a hint of sneer creeping out the edge of his smile. Tony looked as if he’d taken that comment personally for a moment before breaking into a full grin.
“Speak for yourself, Peter,” Gamora said as she cast a sideways glare at Quill before turning her attention back to Tony. “We accept,” she said gratefully.
“Fifth container,” Tony replied with a nod in the appropriate direction. She and Nebula headed off in the indicated direction.
“I would also like to accept your most generous offer,” Heimdall said, stepping forward.
Tony looked up, and up. Then he took a step back to take in the Asgardian’s 7”2’ stature. “I’m sorry,” he said finally “I didn’t have giants in mind when I built them.”
“I am not a giant,” Heimdall said sternly.
Tony cast a quizzical look to Thor. “The humans use the word giant to mean anyone of unusually tall stature,” Thor explained quickly. “He didn’t mean to suggest you were a Frost Giant.”
“I see,” Heimdall replied. “Well, no matter. I will await you on the ship,” he added, slinging his titanic sword over one of his shoulders and taking a step towards the ship.
“No, Heimdall,” Thor said before he could get any farther.
“My liege, I cannot countenance you going without protection.”
Thor reached up to put a hand on his friend’s mighty shoulder. “I need you and your eyes here,” he stated. “The Nostr-I mean The Statesman must leave once we’re off. You’re the only one who will know when to return. Besides, I’ll have Brunnhilde with me.”
“As you command,” Heimdall replied unhappily.
“Relax my friend,” Thor replied presenting a carefree grin. “You alone know just how many fights I’ve been in. I’ll be fine.”
“The humans have a saying,” Heimdall replied sternly “there’s a first time for everything.”
“I swear I’ll be careful, alright?” Thor asked.
“As you say your majesty,” Heimdall replied noncommittally. “By your leave I will return to the bridge.” Thor nodded his approval and turned back to Tony.
“What’s so funny?” he asked indicating the lopsided grin on Tony’s face.
“Oh, I was just wondering how many kings end up making promises to their vassals,” Tony replied.
Thor gave a warm grin as if that question had sparked a fond memory. “All of the good ones, I think,” he replied. Before Tony could say anything else Drax stepped forward.
“Would one of your suits fit me?” he asked simply.
“Possibly,” Tony replied “but I think the real question is whether your good to go.”
“No, he’s not,” Quill jumped in before Drax could reply.
“Yes, I am,” Drax said. Tony braced himself for an ‘ahuh, nahuh’ argument. But Quill surprised him.
“Drax I know you want to help,” the rogue said earnestly “but you’re still healing. And according to Gamora you’re the only person whose ever survived any wound from Proxima’s spear. You need to be taking it easy.”
“Are you going Quill?” Drax asked.
“Uh, yes,” Peter replied automatically.
“Then so am I,” Drax declared.
Tony shrugged. “The suit should protect his wound,” he offered, earning a glare for his trouble.
Quill searched fruitlessly for an acceptably juicy argument. “Fine,” he said when no fruit was forthcoming “but if you get yourself killed . . . I’ll never talk to you again.”
“Now that’s mean,” Drax replied, sounding hurt.
“Well, you can’t talk to the dead,” Tony pointed out.
“Of course you can,” Drax replied in bewilderment. “I talk to my Ovett all of the time,” he added. Tony cast a questioning glance at Quill.
“Just, don’t ask,” Quill replied with a shake of the head.
Tony nodded agreement. “Get suited up,” he told the blue barbarian. Drax nodded his thanks and followed the sisters. Tony turned to head towards container one, only to run into Steve’s impish grin. “And what, pray tell, are you waiting for?” Tony demanded. Steve didn’t reply, instead pathing around him to the container his suit was stored in. Tony shook his head ever so slightly before continuing on his way.
He didn’t get far before Deadpool appeared in his path. “And what, I wonder, can I do for you, Wade,” Tony replied, allowing his impatience to show.
“I’d like to lodge a complaint with the outfitter,” Deadpool replied. “Not one of these suits has swords. And none are in my colors.”
“And I wasn’t aware I’d be arming Bad Santa, either,” Tony replied.
“Well how am I supposed to figure out which suit to use?” Deadpool complained.
Tony sighed, patience about expended. “Just grab one,” he said as he resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose yet again.
“Roger Boss,” Wade replied with a jaunty salute. He then proceeded to skip towards the containers like a kid going Christmas shopping with his mom. Tony shook his head and resumed his way to container one again. That container was his. It had his suits, and his suits alone. It also contained an entire design shop. Containers eight and nine would open up to build whatever he designed there.
Tony stepped inside and simply stood, reveling in that moment’s peace. Somehow this container had become his small slice of solitude on the ship.
The only other person with access to the container stood up from the desk in the back, but didn’t say anything. Bruce knew a no talking moment when he saw one. Although his silences had been far longer and more frequent than was even his wont. In fact, the only time he’d spoken at all in the last three days had been when he was discussing Drax’s condition and treatment.
It was starting to bother Tony, which in turn made him cranky. People weren’t really his strong suit. He could tell Banner was dealing with something profound. He just wasn’t sure what to do about it. Should he talk to him about it? Give him space to figure it out? Prod him into releasing it?
Not one of those options seemed like the right thing to do, and the indecision was driving him nuts. He knew he should speak to Steve about it, but he just could not find a way to broach the subject. Besides, they still weren’t on the best of terms. He wasn’t even sure how much of their friendship had survived this last year.
Finally, Tony sighed and stepped into his suit. “You want me to go with you?” Banner asked hesitantly. It was clear he didn’t want to go, and at the same time that he was a bit hurt that he hadn’t been asked.
And he didn’t need yet another psychoanalytical problem to juggle. “I think you should sit this one out,” he replied finally, not quite meeting Banner’s gaze. “Heimdall, the raccoon and his pet shrub are hanging back to pilot the ship, and I’m going to ask Vision to stay behind as well. Besides,” he added with a light grin “I never made a suit for you. You always were kind of a suit all by yourself.” He regretted the statement almost immediately. The last thing Banner needed was a reminder of what he’d lost.
The irony of the situation was not lost on Banner. It was humorous in a macabre sort of way that he could miss this thing he’d always seen as a handicap, a curse, something to be avoided in general. He’d always envisioned himself as doing back springs of joy if he could ever rid himself of the Hulk. Now he just felt empty, weak . . . useless.
Banner did his best to hide his sudden discomfort with a carefree grin. Even Tony could see through it, but he appreciated the effort. He tossed a jaunty half salute to the diminutive scientist and exited the container before he could say anything even worse.
And landed right in another quandary. “That’s not your suit,” he heard Clint bark. Tony couldn’t hear the reply but he did recognize the replier’s voice. Rolling his eyes, he headed to investigate, calming himself with visions of a bloated Deadpool floating by an airlock window.
“He said ‘grab any suit’,” Deadpool was saying as he rounded the corner of one of the containers. And, sure enough, there was Deadpool trying to get into Warmachine.
“Really” Tony asked, allowing his temper to show “have we stooped to stealing from disabled vets?” Tony asked.
“What?” Deadpool asked confused.
“That’s Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes’s suit,” Clint replied.
“Well how was I to know that?” Deadpool replied defensively, pulling himself out of the suit. “Besides, it’s the only one with a minigun on it,” he added, as if that made everything all right.
“Damn, Tony,” Rhodes said from behind. They turned to see him hobbling towards them like an old man, which wasn’t bad considering he’d only had the use of his legs for a week. “Would have been fun to watch Charlotte shock the shit out him,” he said with a grin as he passed them.
“That’ doesn’t seem to work with Deadpool,” Tony replied.
“Um, whose Charlotte?” Clint asked with a raised hand.
“Charlotte’s the AI Tony installed in my suit after my . . . accident,” Rhodes explained as he pulled himself.
Wade ignored them. “Ooh, what about this one?” he asked, stepping over to a green and black suit. “Not exactly my colors, but I could make do.”
“That’s my suit,” Clint replied quickly. “Although,” he added “it’s just as likely to explode, all things considered. So, go ahead.”
“No thanks, I’ve already tried that,” Wade replied before starting to rummage in the container.
“It’s not going to explode,” Stark assured him dryly.
“Sorry, I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that you built a suit for me at all,” Barton replied with a shrug.
“I designed it before this Winter Soldier unpleasantness,” Tony told Clint offhandedly. Then to Deadpool “And when I said grab any suit, I meant any of the loaners in containers five and six.”
“Do any of them come with katanas?” Wade asked as he abandoned his search to head to the indicated container.
“Show me a katana that could handle a powered swing,” Tony said pointedly to Wade’s retreating back.
“What about regular weapons?” Gamora asked as the two sisters passed the sanity unfettered mercenary. She was wearing a white and gold suit. Nebula’s was pure black.
“What is it with you people from highly advanced technological cultures and archaic weapons?” Tony asked.
“So that’s a no?” Gamora asked.
“Guess we’ll just have to make our own,” Nebula stated stepping up to the opened container’s door and swinging it around to rest against the container’s side. Before anyone could respond she activated the suit’s cutting laser drawing a crude, if effective, sword shape out of the six-inch-thick reinforced steel.
Tony opened his mouth to object before recognizing the futility of bothering. He thought about pointing out that any weapon made from that steal wouldn’t last long, but he had a suspicion such ruminations would not be heeded. They’d ignore him. He’d get frustrated. Just better to avoid the entire discussion. But there was something about it that bothered him.
“How’d she find the laser cutter so quickly?” he asked himself.
“I connected to her cranial implant and uploaded her suit’s capabilities,” Friday admitted, sounding somewhat sheepish, a first for her.
Nebula finished her artwork by bending the steel around the handle away from it and jerking the sword shaped piece of slag free. She handed it to Gamora and turned back on the door. Tony couldn’t help but be curious as to what she’d make for herself.
But, instead of more arts and crafts time she simply swung the door to the ninety-degree point and lifted the entire thing out of its hinges. She then grabbed the six-inch-thick pins. One powered armor jerk and they snapped right off of the door, creating two massive kali sticks. She swung them experimentally before nodding and moving into the ship.
Gamora had discovered the laser cutter on her suit and was currently using it to add something resembling an edge to her sword, using the already mangled door as a backplate. Despite that effort, some of her cuts still damaged the deck plate underneath. It occurred to Tony that this was probably what watching a group of goblins would be like. That impression was only intensified when Deadpool returned, clad in an all red suit.
“Hey, how come she gets a sword,” the mercenary complained. The words were barely out of his mouth before he noted the sword shaped hole in what was left of the door and put the two together. “Ah, I didn’t realize it was a BYOW event,” he said as he contemplated the mangled wreck of a door. The various cuts and bends already inflicted upon it made finding an appropriately sized contiguous space difficult.
“BYOW?” Tony asked, putting special emphasis on that last syllable.
“Build Your Own Weapons,” Deadpool replied as he stepped up to the remaining door. He swiveled it to two hundred and seventy degrees off of closed. “Alright, suit,” he said holding his right hand towards his canvas, palm out. The suit, sensing his intent to use a weapon, fired a disruptor blast. The door slammed into the container, making the entire chamber sound as if it were the inside of a kick drum, before rebounding back outwards. Wade stepped casually out of the way as it swung back to the closed position.
“What the hell was that?” issued from the other side of the container.
“Sorry, sorry,” Deadpool said, stepping out. “That was me. You know these things really should come with a manual or something.”
“If there were a manual, would you read it?” Tony replied pointedly.
“True,” Wade replied nonchalantly as he moved the door back into place. “Now, how to do this,” he said. “Sometimes these things are linked to command words,” he reasoned.
“All you ha-” Tony started before Wade cut him off.
“Shu-shu-shu-shush,” he said holding one armored pointer finger up. “I’ll get this.” He then turned his attention back to the door. “Forge On!” he intoned. When that produced no effect, he let loose a barrage of possible activation phrases. “It’s Smithing Time. Go Go Gadget Weaponsmith. By the Power of Forgeskull. Blathering Blatherskite?” Nothing. He sighed as if defeated and mumbled “In brightest day, in darkest night-” before Tony cut him off.
“Just close your fist,” he declared.
Wade twisted to look at him in surprise. “Like this?” he asked, showing Tony his fist. A beam of light shot towards the ceiling before Wade reflexively opened his hand. “Oh, ho-ho, that is awesome,” Wade said gleefully.
“Jesus your dangerous,” Stark complained.
“That’s what they tell me,” Deadpool replied proudly. “And for the last time, my name’s Deadpool,” he added as he studied his armored fist.
Tony could see where this was headed. “Do not try to write your name on anything,” he growled.
Deadpool sagged a little. “Fine,” he muttered as he turned back to the door and proceeded to jigsaw himself a pair of katanas. Or, what Tony assumed were supposed to be katanas, and that only based on the mercenary’s earlier request for same. They looked more like oddly shaped machetes with elongated handles to him.
“Impressive,” Tony replied stepping up next to Deadpool.
Wade shrugged. “Well, you know what they say; an artist is only as good as his tools.” Tony’s glare was almost as penetrating as the laser had been. Wade ignored it to bend forward and yank his handiwork from the door. The outer half of the door came free as part of the action. Wade tucked both “swords” under one arm and picked up the piece before casually strolling to the other side of the container.
He deposited the spent half of the door on what was left of Gamora’s handiwork and began fashioning himself an edge for each of the makeshift weapons.
“You realize any edge you put on that won’t last more than two or three hits, right?” Tony asked.
Wade looked up from his work. “What’s your point?” he asked, somehow managing to convey an expression of confusion through his red mask. Without waiting for a reply, he turned back to his swordsmanship.
Tony rolled his eyes and turned to gaze upon those assembled that weren’t completely outside of their minds.
Looking out at the uncoordinated mass of armor, it became painfully clear that few of them had actually adjusted to the suits. Their gestures were continually getting magnified by the suits’ artificial muscles. This often sent the gesturee off balance and stumbling into another armored individual, who would inevitably over correct and get launched in yet another direction. It was like watching a rack of pool balls scatter after a rather flaccid break.
In fact, the only two that seemed to be completely at ease were Steve and Nebula. They simply stepped out of the way, often catching the half-ton projectiles that were careening about them. The only difference was the care with which they did so. While Steve would gently right the wayward person with an understanding grin, Nebula would cast a glare of annoyance that could peel paint while she abruptly arrested their movement.
Tony cocked his head in confusion. He’d had no trouble adapting to any of his suits. And, as the least athletically inclined individual (at that time) of this group he’d simply assumed that twenty-four hours would be plenty of time for the group to adjust. He opened his mouth to issue a sarcastic observation on that topic, but the words halted themselves at his uvula as Steve’s words of not ten minutes before intruded on his thoughts.
“It gets easier,” Tony said instead clearly at a loss for how to help them make that adjustment. And he was torn between taking the time to get them acclimated and rushing everyone onto the smaller vessel. They still had a couple of hours before Thanos could risk socketing another gem, yet it would be far easier to snatch before the Mad Titan could get his grubby massive mitts on it.
“You just need to remember that the suit magnifies your movements,” Tony called out. It did not seem to help. “Just, make light movements to get the feel for it. No, not like that,” he added as Drax’s experimental twisting motion turned into a two-hundred-degree spin that bowled Gamora and Quill over.
“Uh, Tony?” Steve called with a raised hand.
“Christ Steve this isn’t grade school,” Tony snapped, adding a slight grin to cover the outburst.
“Right,” Steve replied sheepishly as he dropped his hand. “What I was thinking is we need some ordered regimen, light calisthenics or something to help people get used to moving with the armor.”
“What did you have in mind; jumping jacks?” Tony asked.
“Let’s start smaller,” Steve said stepping forward. Tony yielded the floor with a wave, stepping off to the side. Steve turned, finally seeing the chaos from Tony’s perspective. “Um, maybe help them spread out?” he asked. Tony shrugged and moved to obey.
“Rhody help me out here,” he asked as he stepped up to help one. The colonel moved to comply. They began spreading the group out per Steve’s instructions. As he helped his second suited figure Tony noted Nebula standing at the back of the formation, arms crossed over her chest. “You know, you could help too,” he said pointedly.
“This is a waste of time,” she stated.
“I would really rather wait to get to the surface before we start breaking things,” Tony shot back. She didn’t reply, but nor did she move. Instead she settled on a compromise of watching Tony as if having just discovered an interesting new bug.
“Nebula!” Gamora snapped as Rhodes guided her to a new spot, breaking the blue shaded woman from her observations. She cast a momentary glance at Gamora before rolling her eyes and moving to help.
Once that particular brand of herding was completed, Steve led the group through physical tasks of such simplicity that they would have been insulting under normal conditions. He started with basic stretching and range of motion. This led to some balancing issues as they learned to adjust to throwing so much extra weight around. But, once that was complete, he moved on to squats, the first attempt of which led to three suited figures hopping up instead of simply straightening. Then he had them stand on one foot. Two suited figures fell over.
Eventually he got them up to jumping jacks, which made a hellacious clanging noise on the metal deck. But, as Tony watched, he could see visible improvement. They began jumping closer together, landing together, making the entire cavern sound like the inside of a massive gong together.
“Okay, okay, that’s quite enough of that,” Tony called as he stepped up to Steve again making a time out gesture with his hands.
They were a long way from being described as synchronized, but they weren’t knocking each other over either. In fifteen minutes, their coordination had gone from baby’s first steps to first or second grade. It would have to do.
“Friday, overlay a path to the airlock on the suits’ displays,” Tony ordered. A second later a green ribbon shimmered into view on his own display leading out of the room, and eventually, to the top deck. The first thing he’d done after unveiling the contents of his baggage had been to design and install an airlock and docking clamps for the smaller ship that’d formerly been simply lashed to the hull like a life raft on the Titanic. Friday’d done most of the work, with the help of his construction bots, but it had still required a good amount of his attention over the past day.
In hindsight that attention would probably have been better spent on this little exercise. Tony did his best to shake that thought off. If all went well there’d be plenty of time to add that mistake to the list of failures he could dwell on.
“Activate their helmets,” he continued. Everyone suit’s helmet snapped up, surrounding the wearer’s face. An audible ripple of varying levels of consternation worked its way through the formation.
“Wait,” Scott complained stepping forward from where he’d been watching Steve’s impromptu calisthenics program. Ironically, he was one of only five members of the assault group that hadn’t taken Tony up on his offer. “Are you saying that you control all of the suits? That’s just Stark stupid,” he added before Tony could respond.
“Only simple commands, and only while the suits’ firewalls are down,” Tony reassured him.
“And, out of curiosity, how does one activate the suit’s firewall?” Clint asked with a raised hand.
“Friday partition each suit and activate firewalls,” Tony commanded. Each suit flashed a message to the user indicating its new security status.
“And we’re just supposed to trust that you can’t deactivate the firewalls the same way?” Clint persisted.
“What would be the point of that?” Tony asked. There was no answer. He stepped forward to stand visor to visor with Clint. “If you can’t trust me even that far then perhaps you should just get out of the suit and go cry yourself to sleep in your stateroom,” he said. “Otherwise you’re just wasting everyone’s time.” It was perhaps not how Cap would have handled it, but he was tired of constantly having his actions questioned by a man whose own choices were suspect at best.
Hawkeye seethed as he took one menacing step towards Tony. How dare some tech wiz tell him to soldier up? He longed to throw those words back into the smarmy jackass’s face, to show him what he thought of his cool toys. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he’d need it if the information Tony had brought back was even half true. But that urge was almost overpowering.
Before that urge could gain control, Deadpool spoke up. “Ooh, I’ve got dibs on his suit if he’s not using it,” The merc with a mouth called out, raising his hand for attention. “What?” he asked as all visors turned to him. “It shoots arrows out of its sleeves,” he said gesturing to the suit in question’s forearms.
For some reason that five second delay was enough to snap the tension that had been building between the two. Clint shook his helmeted head and took a step back. He wasn’t sure why but the urge to get into a pissing contest had evaporated. Perhaps it was because, deep down, he knew Tony wouldn’t betray them. Perhaps it was because he knew they needed everyone at their peak abilities. But most likely it was because he didn’t want Deadpool stinking up his suit.
“Now, as I was about to say,” Tony called out “if you’ll follow the path on your heads up displays you will arrive at our shiny new docking port on the upper level.” He then demonstrated by following the path out of the room himself. The rest trooped out behind him.
Tony rounded the final bend to find Parker waiting for him in front of the airlock. Tony glanced at the opened control panel. “Couldn’t get in,” he observed with a noted lack of rancor.
“You need me Mr. Stark,” Peter replied, ignoring the comment.
“I need you to stay here,” Tony replied. “That’s why that panel is just a dummy,” he added. Peter glanced back at the controls he’d been attempting to unsuccessfully override. “Friday open the airlock,” he added. The airlock door hissed slightly and rolled aside. A metal ladder lowered down, causing Peter to jump out of the way.
Tony caught Peter glaring at him and shrugged. “Hey, if I hadn’t distracted you with the panel, you’d have found a way to bypass my security,” he said good naturedly.
“You knew I’d try?” Peter asked.
“I knew you’d succeed if I gave you a chance,” Tony corrected. “I’ve learned not to underestimate you when it comes to these things.”
“You’re underestimating me right now!” Peter complained. “I can do this, Mr. Stark” he pleaded just as shrilly.
“Kid you’ve got promise,” Steve said stepping up besides Tony “but you’re not ready for this. Tony’s just trying to look out for you. Listen to him.”
“But-” Peter said. It was as far as he got before Tony jumped back into the conversation
“Peter, the only reason you’re here is because the alternative was a six by eight cell,” Tony countered. “That does not include hazard duty. Besides, they might just need you here,” Tony added, attempting to appeal to the kid’s sense of responsibility.
Peter wasn’t fooled. “I’m not a pilot Mr. Stark,” he replied.
Stark tried forthrightness. “You are many things Peter,” he said “but a red shirt on this landing party is not one of them.”
“But Mr. Stark,” Peter objected.
“Ah!” Tony cut him off with a waved finger. “We don’t have time for this. Stay here and make yourself useful. That’s an order. Or I’ll have Karen black your vision and disable your web shooters.”
For a moment it appeared that Peter was going to argue further, despite Tony’s threats, but at the last moment his shoulders sagged. “Fine, I’ll just practice twiddling my thumbs,” he said before stomping through the crowd of armor.
“I’m kind of surprised he gave in that easily,” Steve commented.
“Me too,” Tony agreed as he watched the retreating back.
The other Peter stepped through the crowd. “If you two are done backslapping yourselves for ganging up on a kid, we really do need to go,” Quill said as he pushed past them. He ignored the handholds, instead thrusting up the ladder. Tony and Steve stepped out of the wash, both glaring a dirty look after the rogue.
“He’s right,” Steve said as the other’s began to form a single file line. Fortunately, none of them attempted to emulate the space rogue, contenting themselves to simply climb the railing. Then again, they hadn’t actually had time to go over the use of the suit’s thrusters. “You coming Tony?” he asked as he stepped up to the ladder.
“In a second,” Tony replied without taking his eyes off of the approaching ranks. “I just want to make sure Peter actually stays put. He’s proven that his stubbornness shows no bounds,” he added.
Steve grinned. “What is it they say about parents being cursed with children just like them?” he asked pointedly. Tony cast a quick glare at him before returning to his surveillance.
“I am not the kid’s father,” he said.
Steve shrugged. “Well, there are parents, and then there are parents,” he said before heading up.
Whatever Tony was about to say was cut off at the ankles as Vision passed through the deck plates directly in front of him. “I know what you’re going to say,” Tony said before the maroon man could speak “but it’s too dangerous.”
Vision appeared nonplussed. “You’re reports indicated a being of phenomenal power,” he stated. “Yet by my count you’ve chosen to leave no less than five members of your team behind. I have concerns.”
“We don’t know where the fifth stone is,” Tony pointed out. “Thanos may already have it on his ship. We can’t risk him getting his hands on the mind stone too.”
Meanwhile Peter was having his own argument.
“Mr. Stark said to remain on the Statesman,” Karen stated firmly.
“I know,” Peter replied “but I can’t help but get the feeling that they’ll need us.”
“Oh, well if you have a feeling lets go,” Karen replied sarcastically. She hadn’t been so quick with a quip when Peter had first activated her, but of late she’d taken to that mode of communication with a vengeance. Peter was still trying to figure out exactly where she’d learned it from.
“What if Mr. Stark dies?” Peter asked. “How would you feel if we could have done something, but we were up here floating all safe and sound?”
She hesitated, albeit minutely. “Human beings die,” the AI stated philosophically. “There is nothing any of us can do about that. In my observations the best they can hope for is to make it count for something.”
“I really don’t think Mr. Stark would agree that being slaughtered in vain was counting for something,” Peter replied.
“What makes you so sure he would die?” Karen asked pointedly.
“I don’t know,” Peter replied in frustration. “I just . . . I’ve got this-”
“Feeling, yes you said as much,” Karen replied, cutting him off. “Peter I’ve come to know you,” she continued. “I think it far more likely that you are simply chaffing at being left behind like a kid brother than that you alone might make the difference.”
Peter sighed. He couldn’t deny her interpretation, even though he knew it to be faulty. The only reason the two of them were here at all was because he just didn’t want to be left out. And Karen had only gone along with it because Mr. Stark had not directly told her to stop him. But it was different this time. This feeling, it was more . . . frantic.
“It’s like they’ve put all their eggs in one basket,” Peter said suddenly, taking one last stab at the conversation.
Karen was silent. “In what way?” she asked finally.
“I don’t know,” he groaned softly. “It’s just how I feel. Maybe it’s because of the suits.”
“The suits are not a handicap,” she replied. “They enhance the wearer’s natural abilities.”
“I know,” Peter replied “but something just feels off. I can’t explain it. It just does.”
Karen sighed in his ears. Technically she didn’t need to do so, being that she didn’t actually breathe, but it was another affectation of speech she’d picked up; a way of expressing concern and uncertainty all at once. She found it efficient.
Not that hit actually changed anything. She could feel Peter’s concern. She knew it to be genuine. She’d accused him of simply not wanting to be left out, in part because she wanted to read his emotional state. But he hadn’t shown any signs of embarrassment or shame. She knew there was something else going on here. And she’d come to realize that human intuition was a powerful tool she did not rightly understand.
“Alright, I’ll go along with this,” she said finally. “But,” she added forcefully “we will hang back unless this feeling of yours manifests itself. If you even think about engaging the enemy without my permission, I will disable all suit functions and inform Mr. Stark of our location.”
“Agreed,” Peter replied thankfully, already surveying his options for an undetected entry. Unfortunately, there weren’t a lot of them. He glanced back the way he’d come. Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers had already exited up the ladder, so at least he didn’t have that to worry about. Maybe he could just sneak up last. He turned back the other way. His eyes sat on War Machine as he stomped up the rear of the formation. His suit was the largest of them all, making it hard to miss. It also made it uniquely suited to the plan already being concocted in
“Tough luck kid,” Colonel Rhodes said as he approached. Peter had always liked him. He didn’t treat him so much like a kid as just a newbie, even if he insisted on calling him as such. “Keep your chin up alright?” he added as he passed by.
“Yes sir,” Peter replied automatically. There was something about Colonel Rhodes that reminded him of his uncle. The ‘sir’ just came naturally.
Rhody did his best to put the kid out of his mind as he approached the ladder. He wasn’t entirely sure Tony was making the right call with him, but he also knew that if anything happened to the kid his friend would be the one that suffered the guilt. And Tony’s conscience already had more than enough ammunition to use on him.
“There is a foreign contaminant on the rear of the suit,” Charlotte informed him, breaking him out of his ruminations. “Should I initiate defensive measures?”
“Just leave it,” Rhody replied. He knew exactly ‘what’ was attached to the back of his suit. He might not have been willing to confront Tony about his call, but neither could he bring himself to squash the kid. He had too much respect for both.
The ladder opened onto an oval shaped metal enclosure hastily erected between the upper hull of the Statesman and the lower hull of the Vengeance. It was barely large enough to accommodate the extended stairwell that lowered out of the smaller vessel’s hull.
Peter waited until Rhodes made it to the top of the stairs before abandoning his mule. He leapt for the shadowy area past the cavity formed by the lowered ramp and did his best to disappear.
“Too easy,” he muttered congratulating himself.
“You don’t really think we’re that stupid, do you?” Steve’s voice asked from further in the narrow recess. Peter flipped around at the sound. Rogers stepped forward into the light. “I know how you feel, but Tony’s only trying to keep you safe,” he said, sounding slightly disappointed.
“That’s not really in the job description is it?” Peter asked pointedly.
“The idea is to take manageable risks,” Steve told him. He started to say something else but stopped as Tony’s voice came over his headset.
“Everyone in yet?” The technologist asked impatiently. Steve’s hand reached to the side of his helmet to activate his comms.
“Please,” Peter begged. “I don’t know how I know it, but something bad is going to happen. I have to go.” Steve’s arm paused mid motion, as if that operation had been put to sleep while he focused all his processing power on determining the veracity of that cryptic statement. “You don’t know what it’s like,” Peter continued desperately “to be able to do something, to know you can do it, and have no one believe in you.”
Steve’s expression turned bitter sweet as that statement reminded him of his last months as a weakling. He wasn’t certain, but he may have used those exact words as he pled futilely with one of the doctors to fudge his physical. “Oh, I know,” he assured Peter before finishing his motion. “All buttoned up here Tony,” he said.
“Any sign of the kid?”
Steve hesitated for a moment. He hated lying even when he recognized the need. “None,” he said finally. “He’s probably pouting in his room.”
“Good,” Tony replied sounding less than satisfied. “Now get that ramp up. We’re on the clock.”
“Roger,” Rogers said before hitting the button again. He motioned to Bucky to hit the controls. A moment later the ramp began to raise into the hull of the ship.
“Thank you, Mr. Rogers,” Peter said.
Steve leveled his gaze at Peter. “I wouldn’t be who I am today if two great people hadn’t believed in me even when the world didn’t,” he told him. “I think they would have believed in you too,” he added before stepping around the kid and heading towards the interior of the ship. Bucky paused long enough to cast a look tinged more with sadness than anything else at the kid before following.
They headed up through the crowded day room towards the bridge. The sisters were both brooding against opposite walls. Natasha, Scott, and Wanda had occupied the table in the center. Past that Wade had parked himself flanking the stairs to the cockpit.
They all looked over as they entered before returning to their broodings already in progress. “You might not want to go up there,” Natasha called out as they made their way around the crowded table.
“Something wrong?” Cap asked without halting.
“Depends on your feelings towards sardines,” Wade replied cryptically. Steve and Bucky glanced at each other as if to ask if the other had gotten the maniac merc’s meaning before heading up.
As they ascended the steps that meaning became apparent. Quill was in the pilot’s seat with Tony riding co. That much was pretty much expected. What wasn’t expected was the number of other people taking up the cockpit’s limited space. T’Challa, Thor, and Drax occupied the other seats, which left Brunnhilde, Clint, and Rhodes standing in the aisle. The former of that trio seemed to be trying to stay out of the way, but the latter two appeared to be attempting to obtain the same view over Quill’s left shoulder. It wouldn’t have been so bad without the suits taking up so much more space
“Make the jump,” they heard Quill call. The view out the cabin windows altered from an unknown star scape to a swirl of blue and purple coloring as the ship entered hyperspace. The effect lasted only a moment before switching to a star scape nearly blotted out by a planet to the right. “Detach the docking mounts,” Quill ordered.
“Right,” Tony replied. There was a series of slight popping sounds that echoed through the hull as Tony’s jury-rigged docking clamps separated themselves from the ship. “Done” he confirmed a moment later.
Quill didn’t reply, instead wrenching the controls over to thrust the ship quickly away. “Rocket, we’re clear,” he called a moment later before angling towards the night side of the planet and throttling the main engine power to full. Even with the inertial dampers on the ship they were pressed into their seats. Those not fortunate enough to have a seat were forced to flail wildly for a handhold. In the case of those wearing suits this tended to create handholds.
“You guys mind taking it easy on the pressure vessel?” Quill asked, glancing meaningfully at the partially crumpled section of the overhead console where Rhodes and Clint had stabilized themselves.
“You could have warned us,” Clint replied defensively.
“I’m sorry, I forgot that I told you to stand in the aisle,” Quill shot back, clearly annoyed at the cramped quarters.
“Well it’s not like there are enough chairs,” Rhodes pointed out.
“This isn’t a cruise liner,” Quill replied as he set them on a steep angle towards the planet. “Chop coming up,” he added before either of the other two could respond. They’d barely stabilized themselves before the ship hit the first vestiges of the atmosphere wrapping around Xandar. It wasn’t much, but it doesn’t take much to rock the boat when said boat was moving at their velocity.
Tony ignored the byplay in favor of checking the readouts. Most everything looked fine. It appeared that the enemy was still oblivious to their presence. Quill certainly seemed to know what he was doing as far as entry into an atmosphere was concerned. All systems were green. In fact, there was but one worrisome item.
“Something’s-” he started in an attempt to vocalize his concern, but was cut off.
“Do you have to hover right over my shoulder?” Quill suddenly demanded, shifting his gaze from his instruments to glare at Clint.
“I’m just trying to see how this baby flies,” Clint replied placatingly.
“And this requires you to put your head on my shoulder?” Quill asked, only slightly exaggerating.
“I was just trying to see if you were using your feet to fly,” Clint replied.
“I was wondering that too,” Rhodes put in.
“Why the hell would I use my feet to fly?” Quill demanded just as they slammed through a dense pocket of turbulence.
“How else are you going to control the rudder?” Rhodes asked.
“It’s not a sailboat,” Quill replied incredulously.
“Aircraft use them for stabilization,” Clint supplied.
“I think yaw is controlled via rotational input of the stick,” Rhodes observed
“Jesus!” Quill exclaimed as he leveled the ship out at roughly a hundred meters. “It’s not an airplane either. It’s a space ship. Why don’t you guys stick to your flying sailboats and let a real pilot handle the flying,” he added in about as condescending a tone as Rocket could have managed.
“I’ve never met an aircraft I couldn’t fly,” Clint said matching his level of self-assurance with Quill’s condescension. Quill’s jaw jutted out in frustration as they once again referred to a spacecraft as a flying machine. He didn’t say it, coming to the private conclusion that these two had some sort of learning disability. He simply stewed.
“Alright,” Cap spoke up from the back “we’ve got just over an hour’s flight time to get to the other side of the planet, and I’d rather not have the pilot plow us into a mountainside because people keep getting in his way.”
“What kind of pilot can’t avoid a mountain?” Rhodes asked?
“I know right?” Clint agreed.
“How about one going ten times faster than you’ve ever flown?” Tony asked from the copilot’s seat.
Both pilot’s eyes shot up. “Seriously?” Clint asked.
“Alright, out,” Cap commanded, immune to their awe. Such things get old after you’ve spent years marveling at the advancements Earth had made in your seventy-year absence.
“Alright, alright,” they said finally turning to come aft.
“Well,” Thor said getting up “I already know how to fly so one of you can have my seat.”
Cap frowned at that revelation. “You know how to fly this contraption?” he asked.
“Yes of course,” Thor replied as he slid past towards the stairs. “All interstellar craft flight controls are standardized.”
Rhodes and Clint looked at each other. “Match you for it,” Clint suggested.
Rhodes looked as if he were about to agree, but one look from Cap changed his mind. “Let’s just take turns,” he suggested instead. “Unless you don’t think you can get a handle for it in a half hour.”
“Okay, but who goes first?” Clint asked.
“You wouldn’t really cut in front of a disabled vet, would you?” Rhodes asked with a grin.
“Particularly not one with a minigun on his back,” Clint replied with an answering grin before following Thor aft.
A moment later T’Challa stood as well. “I believe it would be advantageous if the group leaders inhabited the cockpit,” he announced. “Captain,” he added with a half nod of respect as he passed by.
“King,” Steve acknowledged with a small dip of his own before turning to look at Bucky as if to ask if he wanted to match for the seat.
“You know, I think I’ll head down too,” Bucky said. “Let you guys bond,” he added with a slightly mischievous grin. Steve shook his head to try and hide his answering grin, then turned to the now vacant chair.
There was precisely three seconds of silence before Tony turned to address the cabin. Rhodes and Cap gave him a quizzical glance. Quill didn’t for want of driving, and Drax was asleep. “Now that we’ve gotten the seating arrangements handled would anyone like to posit a theory as to why the Statesman is still in orbit?” he asked.
His revelation wrought a series of expressions running the gamut from confusion to concern. Everyone knew the plan had been for them to stay in orbit barely long enough to drop the smaller ship. Then they were to high tail it out of the enemy’s reach. The fact that they were still there was a glaring indicator that something had already gone wrong with the plan.
Quill was the first to respond. “What?” he asked sparing a half second glance at the sensor display. That was all it took to verify that the Statesman was indeed still there at the edge of their screen. In another minute the planet would rise enough behind them to block line of sight, but it was still there.
He wrenched his gaze from the display just in time to corkscrew the ship away from an oncoming building. Thudding sounds from below suggested that some of this cruise’s passengers weren’t quite happy with that maneuver. The shouting that followed confirmed that inference. Drax remained asleep.
“Let’s keep our eyes forward please,” Tony said calmly. Quill clenched his jaw but otherwise didn’t respond.
“Could they be having engine trouble?” Rhodes asked ignoring the episode entirely. Perhaps it was a fighter jock thing.
“All systems checked out a couple days ago,” Tony replied. “As to the likelihood of some sort of catastrophic equipment malfunction, you’d have to ask Astroboy here.”
Quill thought about it as he maneuvered the ship between two large mountains, then shrugged. “It’s possible, but as a rule the sovereigns of planets tend to hire competent people to maintain their space ships.”
“Could there be some sort of special anomaly that would interfere with a hyperdrive?” Tony asked.
Quill squinted. “Like what?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Tony hedged “solar flares, sun spots, unusually high background radiation from the annihilation of a fleet of starships?”
“Yeah if the hyperdrive in question were five hundred years old,” he replied irritably.
“I assume from your tone that you’ve got a better explanation?” Tony prompted sardonically.
“Well . . . no,” Quill replied just a touch sheepishly.
“It’s safe to say they aren’t rubbernecking,” Tony continued pointedly.
“Can we hail them or something?” Cap asked.
“Why would showering them with pieces of ice help?” Drax asked. “They are in a starship.” Clearly, he thought the action was meant to be a motivation. Perhaps on his home world it was how they got the slackers moving.
“No, it means to open communications,” Cap replied.
“Then why not say ‘open communications’?” Quill asked testily.
“I don’t know, its shorter?” Cap replied.
“Catching up on Star Trek I see,” Tony commented. “You shouldn’t have skipped past the Apollo program.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cap asked.
“Vehicles moving past a certain speed generate a plasma sheath that blocks radio,” Rhodes supplied. “I’m honestly not sure why we aren’t generating one as fast as we’re going,” he added, peering out the window as if expecting one to burst into view simply because he’d invoked its name. Quill chuckled and shook his head disbelievingly.
“Something to add?” Tony asked.
“I’ve just never flown with cavemen before,” he replied snidely.
“It’s not smart to insult cavemen,” Tony replied tensely before anyone else could protest.
Quill shrugged. “It’s not my fault you guys insist on acting like this is one of your flying boats.”
“Meaning?” Rhodes asked.
“Spaceships have an electromagnetic meteorite shield to protect them from fast moving rocks. In an atmosphere the field is manipulated to create pointed ram well forward of the ship.”
“Deflector screens?” Cap asked, excited that he was able to interpret that explanation.
Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, deflector screens,” he confirmed. “So, does that mean we could communicate with the Statesman?”
“As long as we do it before we lose line of sight with the ship,” Quill replied. “Sorry,” he added a moment later “Line of sight means-”
Now it was Rhodes’s turn to get tense. “We know about LOS,” he informed the rogue.
“Well gee, and all this time I thought you guys really were cavemen,” Quill replied sarcastically as Tony attempted to locate the communications controls. “You must be up to mud huts.” Quill glanced over at Tony. “That one,” he said, pointing to a specific panel.
“Eye’s forward please,” Tony reminded him as he began fiddling with the pane. Quill snapped back to paying attention to the passage of the topographic treadmill in front of them.
“No, that one first,” Drax said pointing to a button on the upper right of the panel. “Then you have to select a frequency.” Everyone but Quill stared at the blue meathead.
“What? I can make calls,” he said defensively.
“Yeah, I remember,” Quill replied as he continued to track ahead. “Vividly,” he added a moment later. There was just a touch of bitterness in his voice. Those not in on the joke gained a rather quizzical countenance, but decided to let it pass. There were more pressing concerns.
“I’ve got it,” Tony said before pressing the only button left.
“Make it quick,” Quill said pointed. “We’ve only got a small angle left.”
Not seeing a mic, Tony opted to simply address the cabin. “Statesman come in,” he said. All they got was static. “Statesman do you read?” he asked again.
“Rocket pick up,” Peter called out, earning yet another eyeroll from Tony. Like the only reason the talking rodent wasn’t talking was because it was afraid of new people.
“Friday are we transmitting?” Tony asked.
“As near as I can tell the transmitter is working,” she replied.
“As near as you can tell?” Tony asked.
“Well, I am used to caveman technology,” she replied smugly.
“It did take you a while to figure the controls out,” Peter pointed out. “Maybe the angle was too narrow to get the signal out.” Despite the comforting nature of his words it was clear he was worried.
“So, what do we do?” Cap asked.
“You want to go back?” Peter asked.
“Sure,” Tony replied sarcastically “and maybe we stop for a bite on the way, or catch a show.”
“So, we just leave them?” Steve persisted.
“It’s probably just a malfunction,” Quill insisted. “As long as they keep the planet between them and the Sanctuary 2 Thanos will never know they’re there,” he said in a tone of voice that suggested he wasn’t nearly as sure as he pretended. Perhaps he hoped that by convincing them that nothing was wrong he’d be able to convince himself. Either way there was nothing they could do at the moment.