Bargaining
Once the Guardians announce they plan to leave Earth and return to “guarding” the galaxy, the atmosphere in the compound shifts. Everyone suddenly seems to go into overdrive, hurrying from place to place. There is not a single surface without either designs or half assembled technology. Nebula goes mainly unnoticed, quietly sticking to the shadows and observing it all. She is only asked to help once, by the fox. He approaches her and instead of his usual half-insult greeting shifts awkwardly. With a roll of her eyes, she speaks first.
“What do you want fox?”
His fur bristles slightly at her term for him, but he quickly reigns in his control. Taking a deep breath he steels himself, then speaks.
“Look, I’m jus’ gonna come out an’ say it. We need some parts ta repair the Milano, parts that ain’t available on Terra. I configured some scanners ta search for any viable alternatives, an’ well… it found one. Parta your circuitry, upper arm an’ some internal stuff…”
He waves a scanner as he speaks, which Nebula snatches to study. Even as he continues to talk, she begins her own assessments.
“Shouldn’t be anythin’ essential for core functions, but ain’t gonna be nice takin’ it out. Without it, we can’t fly. It’s a big ask, but well if Gam was here… look, jus’ consider it okay?”
Nebula freezes at the mention of her sister’s name. When the fox trails off, she abruptly turns and walks away. She keeps the scanner though.
Later that cycle, after dark has fallen, Nebula sits alone in her room. The fox had been correct, it was decidedly not nice taking the circuitry out. Wrist deep inside herself, she has to grit her teeth against the feedback as it bleeds into her organic neurones sending relays of pain cascading across her brain. With a final hiss she throws the tangled mess of circuitry and components to the floor. She sits there for a moment, gathering her breath. Then, with practiced efficiency, she wields herself back together.
Back in one piece (or as much as she could be given the circumstances), Nebula sets out for the fox’s quarters. Overriding the lock without a second glance, she slips into a cluttered space. She takes in the engine parts, electronics and plans strewn about and strung up in a haphazard fashion. In one corner, surrounded by the teenaged tree, a small pile of fur rises and falls rhythmically. That suits Nebula fine; she would rather not have to face him. Silently approaching, she gently lays down her circuitry and the scanner beside the fox. As she straightens up to leave, the tree’s eyes open. He blinks once, then whispers.
“I am groot?”
Nebula considers simply leaving, but worries the tree would wake the fox if she did. Face impassive, she gives a clipped answer.
“I have brought the parts you need. I was careful to remove everything the scanner identified.”
“I am groot.”
The tree extends a branch, growing it out towards Nebula. It stops just before her face, then before her eyes a simple white and yellow flower sprouts. She stares at it, then hesitantly reaches a hand out. Her fingers ghost across the petals, lingering for a moment. Then she turns and leaves without another word.
In just four cycles, the Milano has been restored to what Quill refers her “former glory”. Nebula feels that glory is not an appropriate term but the ship is once again spaceworthy (if only just). The Guardians have spent the whole day preparing to leave, conversing with the Terrans to trade farewells and contact devices. Nebula herself has been diligently avoiding all the Guardians. Now, in her quarter, she surveys the items laid out before. Possessions are a luxury she cannot afford, however these items may prove useful. Two changes in outfit (all identical to the one she now wears), a plain bar of soap, a toothbrush and cleaning paste, a small collection of tools and a half depleted medikit. With a final glance she stuffs them all into a bag then makes for the Milano.
When she arrives at her target, pre-flight checks are still being carried out. The bay locks have yet to be engaged and so Nebula can simply walk aboard. As soon as she sets foot on the bridge, all eyes swivel to fix on her. She shifts under the force of their combined gaze. She begins to wonder if she is making a mistake, but it is too late for her to back down without losing face. Squaring her shoulders she fixes her expression and holds her head high.
“I am coming with you. You require a well trained warrior now that…”
She hesitates for a second, quickly covering it up and moving on.
“… now that there is a vacancy. I do not require any of your resources and ask for no share of any income you should earn. I will do as required on your little missions guarding the galaxy, and in between you need not know I am even here.”
Nebula’s statements are met with shocked silence. Quill and the fox’s jaws are actually hanging open, whilst the destroyer’s brow is furrowed as though he is trying to understand something but cannot even begin to fathom it. Mantis looks slightly confused (although Nebula is fairly certain that is her default look when not smiling) and the tree seems preoccupied with the device in his branches. Quill recovers first, a shaky smile on his face.
“Well, we’d have to give you a trial period, but I don’t see why not. I bet you could get us better prices at refuelling stations if nothing else…”
“Are ya outta ya krutackin’ mind?”
The outburst comes from the fox. He gestures angrily at Nebula as he continues.
“I mean, sure she’s helped us once or twice, but she’s also tried ta kill us! Many times! Plus now her daddy dearest’s gone, who knows what the flark she’ll do?”
“I think she deserves a chance.”
Mantis chimes in. The tree does not even glance up from his game as he gives his opinion.
“I am groot.”
The destroyer frowns, rubbing his chin in thought. Slowly, he too speaks.
“Whilst the cyborg is unpredictable, we could use more warriors. In addition, since Ego, she has appeared to only be on our side.”
He pauses, expression turning melancholy.
“Gamora would have vouched for her.”
The mention of her sister’s name slams into Nebula. Her body twitches, a flicker of emotion flashing across her eyes. Quill’s face falls and even the fox deflates. A minute passes in silence, then the fox speaks again.
“Dammit, ya got a point there. Fine, but don’t blame me if she kills us all while we sleep.”
“Well, welcome to the Guardians of the Galaxy Neb.”
As Quill turns to her he has a smile on his face but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“For now Mantis can show you round whilst we prepare for take-off. You can have… you can have the empty quarters. We’ll sort out your place in our task rotas once we’re in space.”
Nebula nods stiffly in agreement. She wants to say something but cannot find the words. She wants the Guardians to know the real reason she’s decided to join them, to honour her sister’s memory. As Mantis gently leads her away, she thinks maybe the Guardians have allowed her to stay for the same reason.
Slowly Nebula starts to find her place. Trying to slot in with the other Guardians is like fighting multiple enemies at once, having to keep track of what they do and do not like and tailor her actions based not just on who she is interacting with but also with who else may be nearby. Gamora was better with people, could seamlessly establish respect then partnership then friendship. Try as she might, she just cannot replicate that. Nebula is not her sister, a fact she holds against herself even though the other Guardians do not.
Groot, Nebula quickly establishes, is still an adolescent despite his ever growing size. She never so much as quirks an eyebrow at his use of newly learned vulgar language and so he rarely uses it around her. Sometimes, needing a distraction when the others sleep, Nebula does odd tasks around the ship to keep herself busy. Having observed Groot’s reluctance to do his assigned tasks, Nebula tends to start with those. How Groot finds out she cannot say, but once he does she finds herself in his high regard.
At first Drax poses problems. Nebula cannot get through even one conversation with him without storming off in anger (as she defends herself to an exasperated Peter, it is either that or hit the Destroyer hard). He is always pointing out her deficiencies and describes her in unflattering terms as though he is merely stating a fact. Nebula takes to ignoring his conversations or, when she truly has to, giving single word responses. During Nebula’s first assignment as a Guardian (on probation, as Peter and Rocket always stress) a fight breaks out. In the heat of battle, she finds herself surrounded. The other Guardians are all out of sight save for Drax. Their eyes lock and something seems to click. He gives her a nod, and then as one they tear into their opponents. Since then he has been making an effort to curtail some of his observations, and when he can’t she somehow finds it within herself to merely roll her eyes.
Rocket is antagonistic at best, but as far as Nebula can tell that is how he is with all the other Guardians (save Groot of course). Still, Nebula knows he and Gamora had a mutual respect and understanding. This motivates her to dig a bit deeper. She is aware the fox is an uplift, but had never realised to what extent until she catches him without his shirt on. He snaps at her and chases her off, but not before she observes the bolts and old scars. The image stays with her, and so when the Milano next stops at a trade post she slips away to make a few purchases. That night, Rocket retires to his quarters to find Nebula standing there.
“What the flark? Look, I don’t know what ya are used ta, but here we stick ta our owns rooms ‘kay? Ya ain’t even my type…”
Nebula ignores his words and instead shoves the items she is holding into his arms. He blinks in shock, cut off mid-sentence. He looks at the items, his shock only increasing. Before he can recover enough to speak again Nebula cuts in.
“These are a selection of medicinal supplies. All are applied topically. They should help with pain and, in time, should cause the scarring to fade away. It cannot undo the damage, but at least it can make it more manageable. The tin contains edibles Groot assured me you are partial to. For when you need… a distraction. Something nice to focus on.”
For a second, Nebula worries she has made a mistake. The fox will not meet her eyes and his posture is all tense. Then, very quietly, he murmurs.
“Thanks… I forgot…”
He trails off, struggles for the words, before finally continuing.
“It’s nice ta have someone who understands.”
From then on Rocket’s antagonisms have a softer undertone. He even allows her to join him in the engine room and doesn’t dismiss all of her suggestions for upgrades to the Milano.
Nebula knows Mantis could discover all kinds of things about her with a single touch. Mantis could destroy her, could gain control and force her to do anything she wanted. She could, but she doesn’t. Not once does she even ask to, much less physically attempt to, touch her. It bothers Nebula, so much so that she ends up asking Mantis about her abilities. Watching how her face lights up at being asked a question, Nebula quite by chance stumbles upon a way to make Mantis happy. It seems silly to Nebula to get so emotional over such a simple act, but every time she seeks out Mantis and asks her questions (from her opinions to simply what she has done that day, the question itself apparently matters little) Mantis brightens so that her whole body glows in happiness. It is almost as silly as Nebula’s desire to keep doing it, to keep making Mantis happy.
Strangely, of all the Guardians, the only one Nebula continues to struggle with is Peter. Her interactions with him, although never outwardly hostile, remain short and clipped. The truth is she cannot help but see Gamora in Peter, and reminders of her sister are still raw and painful. She guesses he sees a little of her sister in her too as sometimes when he looks at her his eyes fill with unbearable sadness and he gets unusually quiet. They soldier on, avoiding one another as much as possible to escape the ghost of Gamora that hangs between them. The Milano is a small ship though, and sometimes Nebula just cannot stay away from Peter.
That is how, during one night cycle, she finds herself rooted in place as she stares at Peter. The fact he is still awake is not a complete surprise as Nebula has found all of the Guardians are occasionally kept awake by night terrors and memories. What he is doing is no surprise either, dancing along to his Zune as he does virtually every cycle. Admittedly this time his movements have a certain sadness to them that is a far cry from his usual “dancing” (Nebula thinks that is far too a generous term for his flailing). But it is not surprise that has Nebula frozen in place. It is a memory, assaulting all her senses as she helplessly relives it.
Nebula stands in the very same place. Gamora is just before her, watching Peter as he obliviously dances away to the music trickling through the sound system. Nebula has never seen her sister look that way at another sentient before, but some deep part of her instinctively recognises the softness in her gaze. Love. That worries Nebula. Love is a weakness, a potential way for their enemies and Thanos to hurt her sister like never before. She feels compelled to try and protect her. Clearing her throat, she speaks
“Sister, be careful. Your feelings for Quill will not end well. It would be better for you and him if you stop before you truly start.”
Gamora’s head snaps to face her. She blinks in surprise, though whether that is because she managed to catch her unawares or because of her words themselves Nebula is unsure. Gamora schools her expression into a carefully neutral mask before replying.
“I am afraid you are mistaken sister. There is no… no unspoken thing between Peter and myself.”
She keeps her voice admirably level, but Nebula is observant and knows things about her sister nobody else does. She knows Zenhoberians do not blush, but that as a response to embarrassment their pupils dilate. Gamora’s pupils are far wider than usual. Nebula tenses in anger, prepares to call her sister out, but stops herself. She does not want to upset Gamora, does not want to lose the tentative sisterhood they have rebuilt. So she takes a deep breath, then tries again.
“I do not mean to be cruel. I just… I care about you. I do not wish to see you hurt.”
Gamora’s expression relaxes into a fond smile. Placing a hand on Nebula’s shoulder, her next words contain a warmth that Nebula feels to her core.
“Nebula, thank you for looking out for me. I assure you, even if there was something between Peter and I, it would be no threat to us.”
Nebula is not entirely convinced, but she does trust her sister’s judgement. With a sigh, she relents.
“Alright. As long as you do not let your affections impact your performance in battle, it is acceptable. Seeing as you feel the same way, I suppose I shall have to refrain from castrating Quill for the way he looks at you…”
At that Gamora laughs, a pleasant and light sound that Nebula has not heard often enough. Some part of her, deeply buried and carefully hidden, is grateful to Peter for making her sister happy enough to laugh again.
The memory ends as abruptly as it started, but leaves Nebula reeling. She has been fooling nobody. She can never fill the hole her sister left behind. What Peter needs, what the Guardians need, what the universe needs, is Gamora back. Silently, Nebula turns and heads straight for the Milano’s emergency escape pod. Maybe she still cannot bring her sister back, but she has to at least try one last time.
Luckily Vormir is a mere 40 jumps from her location. Throughout all of them, Nebula steadfastly ignores the hails from the Milano. She knows the ship’s engines, currently mid upgrade, cannot attempt jumps at the moment, and so the Guardians cannot follow her. If all goes well, they will thank her later. If all doesn’t, then at least she can be sure they are safe.
The swirling purple atmosphere of Vormir slowly fills up the horizon. The fingers on Nebula’s mechanical hand start to twitch. She doesn’t even notice; all her focus (save the minimal required to land the escape pod in one piece) is being spent on suppressing the memories of when they’d found Gamora’s body, on suppressing the images her imagination has supplied of how she had come to lie broken on the ice strewn ground.
With a shuddering crunch, the escape pod lands. Nebula disembarks, shrugging off the raging storm. Confident her thermostat modules will protect her from any permanent damage, she sets off for the twin towers atop the ragged cliff in the distance. She ignores the biting cold and howling wind in favour of considering her approaches. She just hopes the Guardian of the stone remains, even now that the stone he presided over is long gone.
In just two hours, Nebula heaves herself up the last foot to reach the base of the towers. She stands there, chest heaving, and looks around expectantly. She sees nothing. She delves into alternate spectra but each scan she initiates comes back blank. She is just beginning to feel the verges of despair creep in when a figure swathed in black rags materialises out of the storm. It pulls back the hood to reveal a crimson visage vaguely reminiscent of a Terran. At the back of her mind, Nebula wonders if perhaps another planet on the Sol system holds life. Touching down directly in front of her, the figure speaks.
“Child of Luphom, why have you come to this place.”
Nebula pauses a moment, considering her options. Deciding to play along for now, she meets the terrible gaze of the figure without flinching and replies.
“Stonekeeper, I come seeking answers. My sister, Gamora, was slaughtered in exchange for your charge. I seek to bring her back.”
The Stonekeeper’s face twists into a strange expression.
“You should not have come here. There is nothing for you here.”
Nebula grits her teeth, but refuses to give up so easily.
“No, there must be a way to restore Gamora. If you require payment of some sort, I can offer you whatever coinage you desire or my assistance in any task you request.”
The Stonekeeper does not respond, and so Nebula keeps trying.
“If it is too difficult a process for you, just tell me the details. I can locate one renouned in the mystic arts or science or technology far more advanced than even my own systems.”
Still nothing.
“I will do anything. Give anything. Even if… even if a life is required, I am prepared to pay that price. Please, Stonekeeper, there must be a way to restore her.”
The Stonekeeper’s face twists into a mask of disgust.
“I can tell you nothing, for I lack the knowledge you seek. I was cursed only to guard the soulstone; I do not understand its mysterious ways. Go now, and never return.”
Before Nebula can react, either to fall to her knees and beg or launch an assault to beat the truth out of the Stonekeeper, a golden glow sweeps over her senses. When she comes to, she is strapped back in her escape pod leaving the atmosphere of Vormir. Desperately she pours over the controls, but it seems the Guardian has set her course for the next quadrant.
With an angry cry, Nebula turns away from the controls. With nothing else to do, she allows herself to process what the Stonekeeper said. All her offers were for nought. What she wants, the only thing in the universe she wants, cannot be given to her. Gamora is dead, and nothing she does can change that.