Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gamora squinted as she, Peter, and Loki crossed the wide plaza in front of Nova Headquarters.

Xandar’s twin suns bathed the planet in near constant warmth and bright, sunny days. That, paired with the clear, blue waters, meant the beaches were wonderful—as Thor enthused when he suggested the Guardians vacation on the planet. The rest had been enjoyable, but also quite unusual. Gamora was used to only having enough downtime to sleep. Her life had been filled with torturous training and constantly striving to fulfill any and all mission parameters to avoid punishment. Even after she’d joined the Guardians, they hardly stopped for more than a day between jobs. Those were still filled with errands and training. There was so much to rebuild after Thanos’s defeat. She suspected the ban on “non-relaxing activities” was the main reason Nebula had not joined them.

Laying on a beach was boring. There weren’t enough beach games, “sand castle” building, or swimming to fill a week. Nevermind the four days they’d bunked at the beach “bungalow” Peter rented. Watching Peter’s skin turn pink then gradually darker than a Krylorian, as he avoided protective lotion, certainly hadn’t helped. Rocket had found the pale rings around Peter’s eyes hilarious and laughed for nearly ten minutes.Terrans were insane to insist on “sunburn” to prove their travels.

The urgent request to meet Nova Prime filled Gamora with just as much relief as it did potential dread. They hadn’t received an urgent message since Thanos’s defeat on Earth more than a year and a half ago. Jobs had been quiet, but plentiful—focusing on transportation escorts and simple security for events—and lucrative due to their increased fame.

Denarian Rhomann Dey met them at the building entrance and ushered them inside. “Star-lord,” he nodded and Peter lit up at the use of his forced moniker. Dey nodded to Gamora and Loki as well, “It’s good to see you again. Wish it was under better circumstances, new guy.”

“I am a prince of Asgard,” Loki drew himself up, a faint echo of the superior airs Gamora had seen him use on Sanctuary II all those years ago.

“Apologies, your highness.” Dey responded nonchalantly. “This way please. Nova Prime will discuss everything with you in her private office.”

Nova Prime’s assistant slipped out just before they entered. She had her head down, attention on her tablet. She hurried down the hall towards the ops center and ignored Dey and the Guardians as she passed.

“Mister Quill, Miss Gamora, please have a seat.” Nova Prime greeted without looking up from her desk. As Dey moved to stand slightly behind her, she glanced up. She looked at Loki in surprise, “Mister–”

“Loki,” Peter cut in smoothly. “Just the one name. Like Prince.” He smirked expectantly and Gamora knew he had made another Earth reference to further draw attention away from the Asgardian. “Which is funny cause he is a prince,” Peter laughed.

Loki’s paternal relationships had been complicated. He and Peter had bonded over emotionally distant adoptive fathers by getting drunk. They had done the same to bond over killing their biological fathers. Peter was proud to have his mother’s surname, but Asgardian custom meant Loki was either Odinson or Laufeyson. Peter and Gamora had sat down to a long and tedious conversation with Drax so that he would stop using either of Loki’s full names. It had been exhausting, but worth it to no longer see Loki’s jaw tense at a reference. Afterall, everyone knew never to call Thanos Gamora or Nebula’s father.

Loki ignored Peter’s outburst. “Irani Rael, it is good to see you again.”

“You as well. We’d heard word of your loss of title after the Chitauri attacked Terra and later your death during Asgard’s war with the Dark Elves. It’s good to see you healthy. I wasn’t sure you would remember my first visit to Asgard as Nova Prime. I trust you won’t dye Xandar’s oceans green?” Nova Prime smiled warmly.

“Alas, I am no longer that young boy. Thor has reinstated my title and such acts are beneath my station while working to strengthen New Asgard’s diplomatic goodwill with the galaxy.” Loki smiled. “Green would be a little too obvious a color. Don’t you agree?”

Nova Prime didn’t take the bait. “Xandar offers its aid in New Asgard’s efforts to build a new home. I trust the Terrans are treating you well?”

“A most gracious offer while you are in the midst of rebuilding. The Midgardians are fine hosts, though they are rather insistent no further ‘alien’ involvement occurs planetside without their express permission. They did not enjoy having to defeat Thanos.”

Gamora hated politics. Why could no one say their insults clearly? Did Nova Prime and Loki even like each other?

“Awkward…” Peter pretended to whisper to Dey—who was still standing at Nova Prime’s shoulder. Dey gave Peter a reproving look.

“Do you need us for a mission, Nova Prime?” Gamora asked. She did not want to be drawn into this, but they did need to get to whatever was the urgent business.

Nova Prime and Loki both looked as if they’d forgotten anyone else was present. Their backs straightened and their faces dulled. The masks of politicians.

“Yes, unfortunately, there is a matter the Nova Corps cannot risk addressing itself without risking a,” Nova Prime’s eyes flicked to Loki and then back to Gamora and Peter, “diplomatic incident. Our sources say that the Kree Purists are searching for a weapon called the Kïrkdhish.

“This weapon is believed to be responsible for the end of the Feevusi empire thousands of years ago. It’s said that the scientists developing the weapon accidentally activated it on the capital planet, now known as Feevus V.” Nova Prime tapped her desk and a green and blue planet was projected above. “All life was wiped out without any damage to non-living matter.

“After the deployment, historians claim anyone who entered the system died. Eventually, this ended and a corporation hoping for mining profits organized a colony. It was a hard sell. Most people thought the Feevus system cursed, indeed, many still do. Changing tact, it was pitched as a new life for families with immunocompromised members since nothing lived there, even microscopically. Ultimately, the colony failed due to no useful resources and the Feevus system being so remote.”

Nova Prime tapped her desk again and ruins were displayed. “Archaeologists, antiquarians, and wealthy tourists descended on the ruins once the company was no longer restricting travel. Reportedly, they were emptied and the Kïrkdhish was never found. However, a plague broke out not long after and the planet had to be quarantined. Once the plague ended, amateur explorers and three anthropologists were the only ones documented to visit. Today, ships seldom travel to or from the planet. Those that have reported their travel, avoided the local population, citing ‘primitive technology’ and ‘educational disinterest’ as the reason.”

“I’ve never heard of this empire.” Loki peered at the hologram.

“Most of their planetary holdings are in Kree space. Feevusi is the name Xandar uses. The Kree refer to them as Koluf” Nova Prime explained. With a wave of her hand, the display changed to show a star map with several planets marked. All but two were in the Kree Empire.

“Thanos onced used them as proof of the universe needing balance.” Gamora recognized the map from Thanos’s recruiting sermon to Ronan. Ronan had angrily responded that he only needed Thanos to destroy Xandar and had no intention of joining him. Peter moved closer to Gamora, but didn’t force contact. She leaned against him briefly in thanks.

“So you need us to Indiana Jones this thing and stop the bad guys from getting a supernaturally powerful weapon?” Peter clapped and rubbed his palms together.

“What does the Nova Corps plan to do with the Kïrkdhish?” Loki probed.

“You guys aren’t gonna Ark of the Covenant yourselves too, right?” Peter asked worriedly.

Nova Prime and Loki were too politician to show confusion. Dey was not and Gamora was glad to know she wasn’t alone.

“We are trusting you Guardians to destroy it. Like an Infinity Stone, this weapon cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands and should never be used. If you cannot destroy it, then bring it back here for safe keeping.” Nova Prime smoothed her uniform, “Hopefully, the Kïrkdhish is just as lost as its creators.”

The Benatar touched down on Feevus V without much fanfare. The landing pad was made of dirt and marked off by a square of ancient, blue moss covered stones. The previously unblemished soil and lack of local port or port authority proved how seldom ships visited.

Despite the ecological reset the planet had endured, it boasted many colorful forests. Some game and predators had also been introduced. Insects had been brought to help cultivate the soil for the colony’s self-sustaining farming effort. It had progressed like most terraforming efforts until orloni hitched a ride on a ship at some point and thrived so some idiot company boss had released a bunch of felines. It had been a disaster. Only a decade later the colony effort was canceled and no one had completed an ecological study since.

Rocket had made his disdain for the “isolated backwater planet” clear when they’d left Xandar. His grumbling had only subsided to mumbling when Peter had pointed out the lack of docking fees increasing the profits. Loki had helpfully added that the locals would probably take junk as payment given the lack of technological development—also increasing profits from a successful salvage.

The Guardians' own research matched Nova Prime’s description: Feevus V wasn’t near anything of consequence and boasted no useful mining resources; meaning no one wanted it—not even criminals. The local population were the descendants of the survivors of the long dead colony effort and the anthropologists and archaeologists that had endeavored to study the ruins of the self-destructive long dead empire.

“The scraps of data we could find on this trash heap called it ‘insular’. If they don't even speak normal we ain’t gettin’ nothin’ to help with this goose quest,” Rocket declared as he lowered the Benatar’s ramp.

“Everyone has translator chips,” Peter rolled his eyes. “And it’s ‘goose chase’, not a quest.” He corrected as he strolled down the ramp.

“I do not think Terran birds will be found here.” Drax stated.

At the same moment Loki informed, “I don’t have a chip.” and Groot interjected irritably with his face buried in his game.

“Gift of tongues and untranslatable language automatically disqualify.” Peter retorted good naturedly, lazily pointing at the air, but in the vague direction of the two.

Rocket climbed to Peter’s shoulders. “Humies ain’t got none neither,” he shook Peter’s head for emphasis. “Yondu did you a favor, gettin’ you one.”

“Yeah but most people on Earth don’t believe in aliens!” Peter swatted Rocket down.

“Terrans thought they alone existed as Thanos attacked their planet repeatedly?” Drax looked perplexed.

“No, they know now, I meant–” Peter started.

“We have company,” Gamora interrupted as the Benatar’s ramp closed behind them. She enjoyed her teammates’ liveliness, but bemoaned their lack of observational skills. Underlined by the fact all except Mantis seemed to only just realize a group was approaching from Goshta, Feevus V’s largest town.

The six sentient group was composed equally of men and women of Xandarian, Krylorian, and Easik. The age range also seemed balanced. They all carried some sort of farming or kitchen tool and were dressed in worn, but well kept mixes of leather garments and purple dyed clothes.

“Hello there!” Peter greeted amicably. “We’re just stopping by to get some supplies. Our rations got eaten by an orloni infestation and this is the closest planet to avoid starvin’ to death.” His body language was open and the group didn’t appear hostile, but the other Guardians still prepared for things to go wrong. Groot even looked up from his game.

They didn’t know how the locals felt about the ruins yet. Nothing in the databanks was recent and it seemed none of the prior “explorers” had cared. The sites might be owned, considered holy, pillaged for building materials, used for teenage rebellion, or the local landfill. Until they knew, they had all agreed to lie about needing food.

The group stopped their approach and began discussing among themselves. They didn’t talk quietly, but it didn’t matter. Gamora’s translator chip didn’t recognize the language and couldn’t find other chips to communicate with to build a dictionary.

“They are…confused.” Mantis tilted her head curiously to the side. “And annoyed, but in a tired, resigned way.”

Before Gamora could ask for clarification, the group broke apart. The young Krylorian woman ran into town while the young Krylorian man lazily jogged towards the Guardians. The rest of the members scattered calmly as if returning to their daily lives.

When he was close enough for conversation, he said something in the language.

All Guardian eyes flicked to Loki, some more obviously than others.

“I have a gift for learning languages,” he snapped, “I never learned this one.”

“He beckons us.” Drax nodded as the man motioned with his hand. “Do we follow?”

“I do not sense any ill will,” Mantis nodded along.

Gamora exchanged a look with Peter. He shrugged, “Lead the way, dude.”

Goshta was nestled at the foot of a mountain the colony company had thought was rich in deposits of precious stones and metals. It towered over the town with a scattering of purple trees and a perennial snow cap. The tones of bare gray stone, purple and brown foliage hues, and snow shades of white were a rather beautiful sight. Especially since Feevus V boasted little to no pollution and therefore clear skies.

The “town” wasn’t large by most standards. Goshta totaled roughly fifty brick buildings, yet exhibited impressive crowds. The inhabitants were even more diverse than the welcoming party. While most were Xandarian, it seemed every humanoid race was represented, even Kree and Arcturan. Gamora even caught the green of a potential Zen-Whoberi and a family of Luphomoids—she should give Nebula a call when they returned to the Benatar. She wondered how many resided in each building in order to house everyone. The Benatar’s scanners hadn’t shown any other settlements in the area.

The Krylorian ducked into a tavern and immediately ditched his followers to weave through the crowd to the bar. He stopped at the elbow of another Krylorian. When the other turned, Gamora recognized the woman who had run into town from the group earlier.

A middle aged Aakon man motioned them to a table and Gamora warily followed the others in sitting.

“They ain’t got chips,” Rocket seethed to Peter.

“How was I supposed to know?”

“‘Cause it’s en-sue-lure.”

“I am Groot.” Groot defended. He and Peter weren’t currently fighting over the state of his room.

“He’s the captain, he should know how to research! Humies know all about backwater planets,” Rocket sneered. “We ain’t gonna get nothin’ done now. Can’t ask if no one understands yer words.” Quietly he tacked on, “Can’t even threaten ‘em.”

“I can try to read them?” Mantis offered helpfully, her dark eyes worried.

Ever the sower of chaos, Loki innocently asked, “What if they feel things differently?”

Mantis frowned in thought. “Oh, this is another joke?” she smiled slowly and Loki smiled back.

“Loki, are you learnin’ any new words or phrases?” Peter asked as he scanned the bar.

“It would be easiest if there was someone to translate directly. As it is, this will go faster if none of you distract me from listening and observing the conversations around us.” Loki’s attention was on a nearby mother and child, though his eyes didn’t show it.

Drax wrinkled his brow, “How can their feelings feel different?”

“Is Xandarian alright?” a feminine voice asked.

Gamora turned to see a waitress. She was dressed the same as everyone else they’d seen. Her flawless accent belonged in an upper middle class neighborhood on Xandar, not here. She had long, dark brown hair and pale Xandarian skin. The locals didn’t seem to mind her; however, they all seemed busy openly staring at the Guardians. That all ended with one glance from the waitress’s storm-blue eyes.

Interesting.

“You speak Xandarian?” Peter asked in surprise.

“My parents weren’t from Feevus,” the waitress shrugged. “What brings you to town? We don’t really get visitors.” Her gaze was assessing.

“We need rations. This idiot,” Rocket jerked a thumb at Peter, “let his ship open an orloni bed n’ breakfast.”

The waitress’s eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“Hey!” Peter squawked.

The waitress crossed her arms. “How about you tell me why you’re really here and then I’ll get you some drinks.”

“Truely, rations are all we need to prevent starvation. We would appreciate libations.” Drax was not an actor.

“If you were desperate,” the waitress’s face was stone, “you’d eat the orlonis before landing here. No one visits Feevus V.”

“They all got sucked out the airlock. Chewed the wrong cable,” Rocket insisted.

“We get news. It may be slow, but we get it. We’ve heard of the Guardians of the Galaxy. Saviors of Xandar. Slayers of Thanos.”

“We’re on a job,” Peter sighed. Gamora exchanged a look with him. “We’re just takin’ a quick gander and movin’ on.”

The waitress raised a single dark brown eyebrow.

“That a problem?” Rocket challenged.

“Depends.” Her face showed nothing and Gamora found herself impressed.

“We’ve been hired to retrieve something.” Peter hedged.

“You’ve come to explore the ruins then?” The waitress’s voice was steady, but her eyes narrowed slightly.

“What we’re lookin’ for might be there.” Peter hedged.

“If you tell me what you’re looking for, I might be able to help. My parents worked in them and I’m more familiar than most.”

“Are your parents archaeologists?” Gamora asked. If so, they could be helpful.

“They’re dead now. Like I said, no one visits Feevus.”

“I am Groot.” Groot offered kindly.

“You lookin’ for a ride off this hunk of rock?” Rocket translated badly.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind hurrying your trip along.”

“So you're prepared to offer your help in return for nothing?” Peter looked skeptical.

“No payment. If you can spare any medical supplies, we’d appreciate it. We only have basic medicine here since no one comes to trade and there aren’t currently any working ships. You make everyone nervous so getting you on your way as quickly as possible is for the best.”

“Thank you,” Mantis beamed, extending her hand. “I am Mantis, no last name.”

The waitress blinked in surprise, “You’re welcome…” When Mantis kept staring, she added, “Uh, Hano Zeth.”

“This is a hand shake,” Mantis told her. “It is how Terrans greet each other.”

Hano finally took Mantis’s outstretched hand and smiled warmly, “It’s nice to meet you, Mantis.”

Mantis’s smile grew impossibly bigger. “You are very nice to offer help. We will give you what medical supplies we are able.”

Peter’s green eyes met Gamora’s brown and flicked to Mantis and back. Gamora subtly nodded agreement. He smiled boyishly at the waitress, “I’m Peter Quill, Star-Lord. This beautiful woman is Gamora and that’s Drax, Groot, Rocket, and Loki. We’re looking for some kind of weapon from the dead empire. The kirk dish or something like that.”

“Kïrkdhish.” Loki corrected. He seemed to be studying the tavern and disinterested in those gathered at the table, but Gamora had traveled with him long enough to recognize that he was focused on Hano.

Hano scrutinized each of them in silence before sighing as the Aakon who assigned the Guardians the table called to her from the bar. “Meeruth!” The waitress called back, gesturing to the Guardians and holding up a hand in the universal sign requesting patience. She turned back to Peter and asked point blank, “What does your employer plan to do with it?”

“Listen here–” Rocket growled.

“No, it’s a weapon of mass destruction. It killed all life on this planet. I’m not helping someone get their hands on it to use it!” Hano hissed as if afraid of being overheard.

“That is a theory–” Mantis began to explain. She had found the history of the lost empire fascinating and had been repeating what she had read to any who would listen.

“I know the history of the ‘Feevusi Empire’,” the waitress’s eyes flashed.

“Hold on,” Peter put his hands up placatingly.

Hano shot Mantis an apologetic look before her eyes locked on Peter. Gamora noticed that although their discussion was quiet, the tavern had also gone quiet again. Every eye in the tavern was on their table.

Peter eased quietly. “We were hired by the Nova Corps to see if it could be found and to destroy the kirvish thingie. We don’t deal in weapons of mass destruction. We stopped Ronan and Thanos from killing people. We guard; we’re the Guardians.”

“You plan to destroy it?” Hano spoke carefully. She looked doubtful.

“Yeah, man.”

She expectantly looked at the rest of them.

“You have my word,” Loki assured. The waitress seemed to believe him immediately so Gamora assumed she had no idea she was speaking to the “Prince of Lies”.

“Yes, we will destroy it.”

“I am Groot.”

“I’ve got somethin’ that can blow it up.”

“It shall be destroyed and I am known as the Destroyer because I am very good at destroying things.”

“On my honor, we will destroy it or ensure it is placed somewhere no one can ever use it.” Gamora stated gravely while making eye contact.

Hano nodded. “Get a map up and I’ll point out the ruins. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” The waitress walked to the bar and the rest of the tavern resumed their conversations.

“They are all very attentive.” Mantis observed.

“One word,” Rock said, “in-see-lar.”

“I am Groot.” Groot rolled his eyes.

“I’m sayin’ it how I’m sayin’ it!” Rocket shot back.

“Most places don’t trust outsiders.” Loki said quietly. “It will be easier if we avoid antagonizing the local population. I’d rather not deal with another Tarkos incident.”

“Not my fault they were all full of themselves! How could I know I was offendin’ ‘em?”

“You insulted their parents and belittled their religion. On my planet, you would be publicly killed for the words you used. I would not dare repeat them.”

“Rocket, Drax, shut it.” Peter ordered as Hano returned.

“Where’s the map?” she asked as she set their drinks out.

“Really want us out o’ here yesterday, huh?” Rocket grumbled as he brought out a projection map of the town and surrounding areas.

“The most famous ruins are east of town. They’re the prettiest in terms of surviving architecture. Government buildings or libraries are the theories. Everyone goes for pictures. Most historians think the ruins about 40 miles north of town are factories and housing and such. However, your best bet are the ruins south of town. Not these close by—the ones you parked your ship not far from—but the ones across the river. A lot of it’s flooded and they’re not pretty, but my parents always said the empire hid useful things in useful places.” She manipulated the map to point at each location she mentioned.

“Are there no ruins west of town?” Gamora asked.

“We’re nestled in the foothills and the mountain slopes start immediately at the edge of town. You saw them on your way in.” Hano turned back to the bar. “Wave me down if you need anything else. We’re busy today.”

They began strategizing and after some discussion on whether the waitress's knowledge of the ruins could be trusted, decided to return to the ship to scan the ruins from the air to see if her descriptions at least matched. Gamora wanted to ask Hano more, but the waitress was busy and there were still a lot of eyes on the Guardians. Not hostile, but mistrusting.

They returned to the Benatar and Rocket ran off griping about checking the security system on the computer for any sabotage attempts while they were gone. Drax went to polish his knives and Groot disappeared back into his room. Loki and Mantis sat down in the rec room and Gamora followed Peter to the kitchen.

“What do you think?” she asked him as he gathered chips and some water.

“About the mission? It’s a little weird for a salvage to be a search and destroy, but these aren’t the first ruins I’ve robbed.” he laughed.

“No, about the town and the waitress.”

“Well, what do you think?” He took his things to the rec room and raised his voice to invite Loki and Mantis to the conversation.

“I asked you,” she huffed.

Peter tossed a chip in his mouth. “No one seemed outright aggressive, but definitely paranoid,” he chewed. “We were lucky to meet someone we could talk to for directions.”

“You trust her directions?”

“Mantis gave her the all clear.” He tipped his head to his sister.

“I did not sense any lies. Hano was honest about payment and wanting us to leave quickly.” Mantis said in her slow, precise way. “She is helpful and does not want anyone hurt.”

“What about everyone else?” Gamora questioned.

“They were uneasy, but not scared.” Mantis shook her head. “Except when she worried we would use the weapon. They were fearful because she was tense, I think. It is difficult to know for certain without touching them.”

“They did seem to read cues from her. I suppose that happens when there’s only one translator.” Loki said without looking up from his book.

“They respect her,” Mantis hummed.

Loki looked up from his book in interest.

“They did stop looking at us as soon as she glanced at them when we sat down.” Peter crunched on another chip.

“I wonder how she learned to speak Xandarian so well.” Gamora mused.

“Quill, get your ass in here. Are we goin’ or what?” Rocket interrupted from the bridge.

The others failed to notice Loki had opened his mouth to speak. Since he didn’t continue, Gamora assumed it was nothing important.

Chapter Text

Drax surveyed the half submerged ruins south of Goshta with suspicion. He trusted Mantis when it came to reading the emotions of others, but he was unsure of the local populace. Loki had said that they may feel feelings differently.

The server woman had been correct in stating that these ruins were not as aesthetically pleasing as the other ruins. It lacked the superfluous arches and carvings. There were no traces of paint or mosaics on the walls. It was a collection of walls and roofs, as all buildings should be; “useful” as promised. Even its stone was a simple, sturdy gray instead of the reds, blues, and oranges—the others compared to jewels in the sunlight—found in the ruins north of Goshta and the white and gray marble and quartz found in the east.

“Well, the descriptions match. “Quill seemed oddly disappointed. As did the others. Were they sad to find out they had not been lied to so far? Perhaps they could not appreciate the beauty of functionality. “Guess we’ll give this place the first looksee. Good thing we landed early in the day here.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with already. How much you wanna bet on there bein’ traps?” Rocket sauntered towards the nearest entrance with a large energy weapon slung over his shoulder and Groot carrying a bag at his left flank.

“Good luck!” Mantis waved from the Benatar’s ramp. She had been chosen to stay behind and keep an eye on the ship and surrounding area. Gamora and Quill waved back at her. Drax was more efficient; he nodded.

“These ruins are ancient, I highly doubt there are any traps remaining active.” Gamora shook her head at Rocket.

“I’ve run into traps in ruins before, but I’ve yet to run from a giant boulder.” Quill grinned.

Rocket pulled a paw down his face, “We already watched the krutackin’ movie, Quill. Stop botherin’ us with it or I’ll melt your face fer real!”

“I am Groot.” Groot enthused. He had thoroughly enjoyed the film during the ride from Xandar to Feevus V. Drax had only found it confusing, as he did all Terran “movies”.

“Well thank you, Groot. Atleast one of you has good taste. Indiana Jones is a classic!”

“I did admire his fight against those who wished to kill those they deemed inferior. However, he was not a very good fighter and only survived by luck.” Gamora was very generous when it came to Quill.

“He had no honor. He shot a man who had only a sword to duel.” Drax shook his head at the memory of Quill laughing at the scene.

“I am Groot.”

“What’s wrong with his hat? His hat is a trademark! I thought you liked the movie?” Quill spluttered. “Lots of people wear hats! There’s nothin’ wrong with it.”

Rocket spoke before Groot could answer. “Don’t bother askin’ him to explain.” The rodent seemed irritated suddenly. Perhaps he was scared of the ruin’s before them. He was often irritated when scared.

The Guardians paused to scrutinize the structure. It was a large compound of multiple connected buildings. They were in front of the only original entrance not blocked by rubble or erosion. There were other orifices on roofs and in walls that could be used to enter.

“Searching separately will cover a larger area,” Drax advised.

“Nope, that’s how they get you.” Quill shook his head.

“The traps?”

“No, the killer. Ya know, in the—nevermind. We’re stayin’ together.”

“What killer is here? Should we warn the villagers? Or are they in league with one another?” Drax searched their surroundings with renewed vigor. He would not allow his friends to die.

“There is no killer. Peter is suggesting that it is safer together.” Gamora seemed tired. She was probably not getting enough rest.

Drax relaxed. “If your weak self would feel safer with me near, you need only ask, Quill.” He offered magnanimously.

Loki smirked in amusement at nothing, as he tended to do.

“Thanks, buddy” Quill said distractedly—no doubt ashamed of his species' weak constitutions. He kept his eyes on the scanner he carried and followed Rocket and Groot to the entrance. “We’ll go as far as we can ‘til we hit water. The scanner’s havin’ a hard time looking through the rocks so it won’t map a place we’re not in yet.”

“That’ll take forever!” Rocket groaned. “You sure you’re usin’ it right?” He glared at the contraption in Quill’s hands.

“I know how to use a scanner!” Quill ducked under the low doorway and turned on his flashlight to illuminate the space. Although the Terran would probably describe the action as “stabbing the gloom” or some such nonsense.

“The rock used in construction interferes with magic as well. All I can tell you is whether the walls are solid or not.” Loki did not seem as surprised by this development as Quill. Drax had given up on understanding magic. It was not meant for him and his reflexes as a warrior were far superior to such tricks.

“How can it block magic?”

“Some substances prevent magic from flowing normally. I can still use spells, I just can’t form a map or ‘see through walls’, as it were. This is hardly the first time that’s come up.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say anything when we flew over the other sites,” Quill whined. The Terran could be quite childish at times. Drax suspected Yondu had encouraged this behavior in some way. It was a parent’s responsibility to aid their child and Quill complained about his father’s faults as much as he admitted to him being his father—the resemblance was far closer than Ego. How had Quill and the others not seen it before?

“The other sites didn’t impede my magic. More than likely, the girl’s parents were right about this being an important storage facility. I doubt an empire that spanned several galaxies and created a weapon capable of destroying all life on a planet would be unaware of magic.”

“You said you’d never even heard of the Feevusi!”

“Of course I haven’t heard of the Xandarian historian created name for an empire that’s been lost to time. If Asgard has or had books on them, it’s under a different name and they weren’t considered a threat because there is no great writing to be found on this region of space.”

“Enough,” Gamora shouldered between Quill and Loki. “Look around instead of arguing.”

“I can multitask,” Quill grumbled. Nevertheless, he pulled ahead to keep step with the green assassin instead of the Asgardian prince.

As they wandered through the twisting corridors, Drax found the blankness of the walls curious. Everyone working in the building must have been very good with directions for there was no language written anywhere to denote room numbers or hall locations. Everything from the hall length to each room’s volume was uniform.

“There ain’t no computers to salvage,” Rocket pointed out.

The lack of technology was curious. Perhaps these Feevusi had found it as paltry as Drax did.

“Historians and looters probably removed them years ago,” Gamora answered.

“But this so-called super weapon is still here? How d’ya figure that?”

“It could be in an unexplored area with all the technology you could want. After thousands of years, I doubt anything will work.”

“Don’t gotta work for me to make it somethin’ better.” Rocket showed all his teeth. Drax was certain the rodent had plans to build another super weapon of his own. He already had quite the collection on the Quadrant and Benatar.

When they hit enough water to necessitate diving, Drax hesitantly donned the uncomfortable wetsuit. How could the others stand to have the material against the tender skin of their torsos? It was torture to feel it rub against his epidermis with each movement of his arms or waist. The rebreather apparatus was much easier to withstand, no matter what Quill said.

“I’ll wait for you idiots up here. I ain’t gettin’ my fur wet.” Rocket announced, arms crossed.

“That’s what the wetsuits are for!”

“I ain’t squeezen into one of them things, Quill! I’ll look around for other passages and whatever that are dry. Groot’s stayin’ with me.”

“I am Groot?” Groot looked at Rocket in confusion.

“You can help with any cave-ins or rocks that need movin’.”

“I am Groot.” He motioned towards Drax and the others..

“He’s right. We need him to do the same for us.” Gamora weighed in.

“Naw, you’ve got Drax for heavy liftin’. You can help there too princess since Quill’s too weak to be of use. The prince could move more without his magic.”

“Hey, I’m strong for a human!”

“Jotunns are capable–”

“Doesn’t mean anything cus humies are weak!”

“Terrans do seem easily broken,” Drax agreed aloud. He was far too humble to mention the compliment about his strength.

“Enough.” Drax was certain Gamora had not slept well the previous night, her voice did not sound rested.

“I am Groot,” the adolescent tree groused.

“No, you don’t. If you go swimmin’, you can’t play your game.”

“If he wants to–” Quill began.

“I am Groot,” he said quickly.

“Wants to go with me so we’re leavin’ you chumps to the water. Don’t drown!” Rocket retreated while he spoke so that he was guaranteed the last word. Drax had noticed this habit in many since he had left his home planet.

“We meet back here in four hours!” Quill called to the retreating forms. Rocket waved dismissively without looking. Quill sighed. A wise choice should he need to clear his lungs so that he could hold a larger breath, but strange to do when using a rebreather. “Let’s go.” Quill led the way with Gamora next then Loki and Drax as rearguard.

The water temperature was pleasant. The lights reached easily into hallways and rooms that were the same as those not submerged. Drax wondered, like Rocket, how someone might have emptied all the rooms so thoroughly and yet missed the weapon of greatest value. Perhaps it was hidden by more than a normal door or vault, like in the “secret passages” Quill’s movies had in old structures. If Quill found these ruins “creepy”, they may need to hit walls and throw shelves. Drax would keep an eye out for books as well.

After clearing several blockages, Quill motioned for them to leave the hall and enter one of the doorways. It wasn’t the usual room behind every other passage. Instead, it led to a wide area with one way mirrors on either side for observation. At the end was a large, vault-like door. It seemed promising.

Quill inspected the door, “See if you can find a way to open this without breaking it, Mora.”

Gamora swam back out into the hallway to find her way into the observation rooms. Drax followed her. He was not equipped to “finagle” a door, only break it completely. They searched the rooms on either side of the doorway to no avail. Then they moved further away. Nothing.

“I’ve got a way to open the door,” Loki reported via the comm.

“Let’s try it then,” Quill grunted. The comms went quiet for a moment. “I thought you couldn’t use magic?”

“I said it couldn’t go through the walls.”

Gamora and Drax made their way back in the silence. Her company was far more pleasant without Quill pulling her into unceasing conversation.

The vault-like door was open to reveal a room belonging to a prison. Drax was reminded of his admittance to the Kyln. There were desks to hand over items. An open shower area and a partial partitioned cubby area for dressing. At the end was another vault-like door.

“A security area to ensure no one snuck off with anything valuable or smuggled anything in?” Loki murmured.

“Could the showers have been for biological contaminants? Terrans use water still, perhaps the Feevusi did as well?” Gamora posited.

“It is a prison.” Drax was certain and did not understand how the others failed to see it.

“This is the first sign of security and there weren’t any cell doors or complicated locks in the other halls.” Quill reminded. “It’d be weird to have a prison within another building.” He examined the new door. “Loki, think the same trick will work?”

“Let us find out.” Loki floated in front of the door and raised his hands. The familiar green magic crept from his hands to surround the door. Slowly, it seeped between the cracks and a loud click vibrated through the water as the door unlatched. It slowly swung open to reveal a narrow hallway.

Quill cautiously shone his light into the darkness. The hallway was wide enough for only one abreast. There was nothing on the smooth walls, floor, or ceiling—not even seams between stones. The end was not within the light’s reach.

“Who wants to go first down the creepy tunnel?” Quill chuckled nervously.

Drax would look for hidden doors while he made his way forward. Without a word, he took the lead. His light continued to show the same emptiness as he swam, or rather pulled himself, along. After a kilometer of the gentle slope downward, he reached an open doorway to a wide, two story room. Its walls were just as blank as the hall. At regular intervals, tables rose from the floor seamlessly. There was no other entrance.

“A lab?” Quill moved towards the doorway from the hall. “Could this be where they built the curve dish?”

“Doubtful,”Loki said dryly. “Unless it was alive and needed to be strapped down.” He was next to a table, his hand tracing a pattern Drax could not see from his distance.

Drax kept moving to the end of the rows of tables as the others discussed what or who might have been experimented on. He was focusing on the far wall and ground, trying to find a shelf or seam to leverage. At last, he spotted a square bisected with another line. Two large rings were fitted into the middle close to either side of the line.

Planting himself on the floor, he pulled one ring. It did not budge. Unsheathing his sword, he hacked into the line and then tried again. The door swung up and murky water obscured him as he dove down.

“Drax?” the others called as the water settled.

“It is as I said, a prison.” Drax replied over the comms. The others would join him and see for themselves.

Quill cautiously swam down the stairs of the trapdoor and around five smooth walls that formed switch backs barely wide enough for one person. “How did Drax get through so quickly with his shoulders?” he muttered.

“I went sideways,” Drax supplied. The Terran could be oblivious at times.

When Quill made it out, he floated to a stop next to Drax and peered into the murky shadows of the cells below the lab. “Uh, yeah. Smart, big guy.”

“Forgot your comm was on?” Gamora’s mirthful voice called through the comms as she maneuvered through the switchbacks as well. Her voice was grim however, as she joined the other two. “Nothing in the histories mentioned slaves or sentient experiments.”

Each cell consisted of a single cot and three solid walls of the same smooth stone. The door was set into a barred wall at the end. The cells were as wide as the short cots and only long enough to provide space to stand next to the cots. That was all.

Drax found himself glad the empire was long dead.

“These weren’t used for anything other than humanoids. Or whatever the Feevusi might have looked like.” Peter spat angrily as he stared at a cell. “The fact is these definitely weren't used for non sentients or storage.”

“It could have been magic users,” Loki sounded pensive. No other emotion. Drax looked to his friend in concern—last time they had found an abused magic user, the Asgardian prince had been wrathful. “The walls prevent magic from going through them and some specialty doors could prevent it traveling out.”

“We haven’t seen any old tech down here.” Quill shook his head, the water tugging on his hair. “There wasn’t anything in the lab or entrance. No hook ups here either.”

“All the walls are unblemished, except for the doors.” Gamora inspected a cell closely. “Everything Mantis found on the Feevusi said they worshiped the sanctity of life. How could anyone think that after finding this?”

“The doors were sealed. We may be the first to discover such evidence.” Drax replied as he slowly swam down the cell block. The end was not yet in sight.

“They might not have viewed magic users as equals. They would hardly be unique in that assessment.” Loki sighed.

“The historians or the Feevusi?” Quill attempted to joke; his tone already regretting his attempt.

“Both,” Loki said darkly.

Chapter Text

Rocket led Groot through yet another blank, gray hallway. They had searched several rooms and halls to no avail. This place had been cleaned out centuries ago. No wonder scavengers hadn’t even come to this flarkin’ planet.

Coming upon yet another collapsed section, Rocket turned to Groot, “Get to clearin’.”

“I am Groot,” he sighed and gingerly set his game down on the ground.

Groot stabbed his arms into the ground and roots appeared around the fallen debris. Smaller stones were pushed away while the larger were secured by a careful weave of bark. Two sapling trunks grew to buttress the load and frame a doorway. Flowers blossomed around the portico in various colors.

“Show off,” Rocket rolled his eyes.

“I am Groot.” He crossed his arms defensively.

“The flowers are not necessary.”

“I am Groot.” He waved to the portico emphatically.

“Oh, you think this space needs color? You’ve been watchin’ way too many decoratin’ shows with Mantis. No one lives here!”

“I am Groot!” The teen childishly stomped his foot in annoyance.

“Memorial flowers? Have you seen bodies anywhere?” Rocket swept a hand around them as he walked through the doorway. The only thing they had found were rocks and air.

“I am Groot.” Groot replied somberly. He retrieved his game from where he had left it, but did not resume playing. This caught Rocket’s attention.

“What d’ya mean, ‘it feels like death’?” Despite himself, Rocket had to work to suppress a shiver.

Kids could be downright creepy. He was never settlin’ down with a nice girl and having a litter of his own. Dealing with a baby Groot had seen to that. Waking up in the middle of the night cycle to portents of doom and Groot watching him sleep, being told graphic, far-out depictions of imagining the team dying, or how the universe must feel lonely in its “neverending immortality and inability to communicate”. He thought the twig had outgrown such off-putting ramblings.

Apparently not.

“I am...” he paused to think, “Groot.”

“Oh yeah, who do you reckon’ died here? The dead empire?” Of course it was something harmless. Rocket forgot sometimes that teenage Groot could still get scared of silly things. Abandoned places were a normal kid’s fear, right?

Groot shook his head in annoyance and furrowed his brow, “I am Groot.” He was obviously frustrated he wasn’t communicating his thoughts better.

“What? Like you can sense the weapon or somethin’?” Rocket laughed. “If it’s still here, I’ll owe you 100 units. Now quit draggin’ yer feet.” Treat the kid normally and he’d surely calm down.

After a while, they came upon a kilometer wide, square courtyard. It was underground, but the benches and sections for flower beds gave it away. There was no evidence of where the artificial lights would have been housed in the ceiling, but there were no power hookups anywhere in this stupid complex. A fountain sat in the middle with paths snaking off in a star formation.

Across from where Rocket and Groot entered, there was another collapsed hallway. What set it apart from all the previous ones they’d encountered—and the others in the courtyard—was the cairn in front of it. Someone had taken up every single path flagstone and stacked them in a neat, cylindrical pile.

“Huh, thought everyone died at once?” Rocket mumbled as he approached the cairn. Some had to have lived long enough to place these here.

“I am Groot.”

“None of them fancy archaeologists mentioned survivors. Ain’t none mentioned any rock art neither. Nova Prime said no one came here for centuries before the colony attempt. People thought it was cursed or somethin’ and didn’t want no part of it. The Kree still do. The Kree Purists only recently started lookin’ for the kirken thingie. The only reason we’re here is to find it before they do—if it’s even real. Didn’t you pay attention when Greenie was tellin’ us?”

Groot rolled his eyes with a huff, “I am Groot.”

“Well maybe you wouldn’t be so scared if ya had. Everythin’ died. All plants. All animals. All the people. The trees and shit we saw outside and all the little critters came with the colonists and scholar types.”

“I am Groot.” He was not unkind, but he was a teenager so it wasn’t exactly kind either.

“I’m not nervous.”

“I am Groot,” he pointed out boredly.

“I do not over explain when I’m nervous! I dumb it down for all o’ ya cause yer slow brains can’t keep information straight and understand my intellect. You’re nervous. Don’t try and put that on me!” Rocket walked around the cairn and did not look at it.

There, he wasn’t nervous. He didn’t need to acknowledge its existence.

“Now get over here and help me move this junk,” he ordered as he lifted up one of the rocks from the blocked hallway.

Groot stayed back, eyeing the cairn and muttering to himself.

“I said get over here, ya big lug! I ain’t liftin’ all this myself!” Rocket said exasperated.

Groot stubbornly didn’t move. “I am Groot.”

“The faster we get through here, the sooner we leave.” Rocket persuaded slowly.

The teen dropped his shoulders dramatically in defeat before cautiously edging around the cairn. He paused on his way and grew a wreath of multicolored flowers, the stems woven together in a complex pattern. He reverently laid it atop the cairn and whispered, “I am Groot.”

Rocket was distracted by the out of character display and failed to notice a briar tangled within the rubble. As he moved a stone, a thorn buried itself in his left arm. He jerked away and did not release a high pitched mewl from the pain of the burr or dropping the stone on his foot.

“D’ast thorn!” He grumbled as he examined his arm. He didn’t see any blood. How had it hurt so much without breaking the surface? It didn’t hurt now so maybe it was the surprise. He looked up to see Groot staring at him. “What?”

“I am Groot,” he glared.

“If you don’t like how the vine is lookin’ at us, then look away. I’m fine. It didn’t even break the skin. Now, come on, we got rocks to move.”

Groot moved to help and they discovered a door behind the rocks. The door and hall behind it were also damaged. However, the sturdiness of the door made Rocket think they were finally somewhere important in the bland structure.

The room beyond was mostly destroyed. Three of the main walls had caved in and the ceiling sagged and cracked ominously. There were remains of barrier walls creating switchbacks in front of the door. However, the surviving wall and floor were made of perfectly smooth stone. A damaged pedestal stood in the middle of the room and scorching from blasterfire littered the entire space in view of the door.

Promising.

“Maybe it wasn’t an accidentally suicide.” Rocket chuckled darkly. “Maybe the Feevusi weren’t d’ast idiots when it came to usin’ weapons, just keepin’ ahold of them.”

Rocket scrutinized the wave of rubble behind the pedestal. A large chunk of wall still looked to be intact and maybe something survived the years underneath. “Groot, pick that up,” he pointed.

“I am Groot.” His eyes were studying the piece of wall warily.

“Yeah, I know. People died here and you don’t like the feelin’. Come on. Lift it and we’ll be on our way.”

“I am Groot,” he protested.

“I don’t want to flarkin’ be here either. Lift the d’ast rock and let’s go!”

Groot glared at him for a moment with intense eye-contact. He wasn’t supposed to be cussin’ around the kid so much. Still, Groot lifted the rock. “I am Groot,” he grunted.

“Got it, I’ll be out from under it in a minute tops.” Rocket’s softened tone was the closest the tree would get to an apology.

Curiously, there were remains of fabric under the stone. Had this part collapsed before the general ruin of abandonment? Was the powder beneath it bone or rock dust?

Rocket shuddered and flicked his ears.

Tangled in the cloth strings disintegrating before his eyes, was a necklace and a large cylinder. The necklace looked to be made of titanium, of all things, and had a thin, solid chain. Fixed at the end was a single blue rock that didn’t look like any precious stone Rochet had seen.

The cylinder was made of the same stone as the entire complex. Indeed, it would have blended in if not for the clean lines. It looked solid, but when Rocket picked it up, it was far lighter than it should have been. Had it somehow been hollowed out?

“I am Groot!” Groot ordered as Rocket came out from under the slab.

“I’m not putting it back!” Rocket snapped. “This is all we’ve found and at least artifacts sell!”

“I am Groot!” He insisted.

“Stop talkin’ about bad feelings! Yer only feelin’ that way ‘cause this place is abandoned. Get over it!”

Groot looked slapped. Setting his mouth in a thin line, he dropped the slab with a crash. Turning on his heel, he made his way back to the rendezvous. He didn’t speak to Rocket.

Rocket didn’t care. The brat could be angsty.

Instead, Rocket studied the necklace and staff-like rock. He’d have to see if the equipment on the Benatar could penetrate the rock. Who knew what could be inside! He’d just have to make sure the others didn’t interrupt his experiments. Should he even tell them about his findings?

“Any luck?” Star-munch asked.

“What do you think, idiot?” Rocket snapped. When had he and Groot arrived at the dive point?

“Well, yer holdin’ something.” The stupid Terran gestured to the necklace and cylinder.

“These look like weapons to your dumb humie brain?”

“Why are you being an a-hole?”

“Why are you so ugly?” Rocket couldn’t stand this conversation or the one the others were having.

“Dude, what crawled up your ass and died?” The humie had the audacity to look affronted. He was the one picking a fight!

“Like you care!”

“Are you all right, small friend?” The tattooed idiot butted in clumsily.

“The only thing diminutive here is your brain!”

“I meant no offense in regards to–” Drax startled.

“Rocket! What the hell dude?” Quill stepped back in. Loki was studying Rocket.

“Here!” He threw the necklace and cylinder on the ground. He needed a quick exit. “If yer all so interested. Have a look! Carry ‘em! At least one of us knows how to find something we can hock for gas wasted getting here!”

“Rocket,” the assassin princess admonished.

“Shut it. I’ll see you losers back at the ship.” Rocket scratched his left arm as he marched away.

What was going on? Why were they all looking at him like that? What did they want?

Why the hell had he thought it was a good idea to stay with these jokes? He was the best thief and escape artist in the universe. These brainless fools were only dragging him down. They would dump him as soon as they could and he needed to get out as fast as he could. Groot had known him longer, but he’d no doubt stay with them.

You could only ever trust yourself.

“Hello, Rocket!” Mantis cheerfully greeted as he boarded the Benatar. “Were you successful?”

She was so naive it was sickening. Rocket was nauseous just thinking about her simplemindedness. The gullible were so easy to use. They could never be trusted to keep secrets or have your back. Only her powers kept her from falling completely, but her weak will folded quickly. She’d sell him out in an instance.

“You are angry and uneasy.” She furrowed her brows as she followed him. “Did you have a fight?”

“Oh, I’m the only one that can cause problems now?” Rocket was burning up.

“I did not mean–” the antennaed fake frowned dramatically.

Rocket closed his door in her face. In the peace of his room, he planned his escape. He’d need credits the others didn’t know about. Luckily, it seemed his scan of Goshta’s tavern had matched to a hefty bounty: Hannah Mercer, Terran.

“What the hell is a Terran doing out here?” he wiped his sweating brow as he pulled up the picture. He’d need to figure out how to get the Benatar away from Quill and the others. Knowing who he’d be hauling with him would help him strategize.

His tablet displayed a pale face with brown hair and blue, gray eyes. The waitress? She was Terran? How’d she get to Feevus? How’d she learn Xan-frickin’-darian?

“Rocket,” Gamora cautiously started as his door suddenly opened. Rocket swiped the image away and hoped she hadn’t seen it. He couldn’t let her know of his plans. The others might decide to sell him for money. He was property afterall. One of a kind, failed experiment.

Gamora didn’t continue. She just quietly considered him. She knew he was on to her. He’d be thrown in a d’ast cage again—he already was! How had he missed the bars? His implants ached. How had he not known they’d cut him open again? Why were they doing this?

“When I get out of here,” he growled. “I’ll blow you all up with a bomb so big, people will think a sun’s gone supernova!”

The floor suddenly rushed towards him, his body weak. Hands held him down as he shook from some side effect of what they’d done to him. Then he was gone; a brief reprieve from the pain of existence.

Chapter Text

Groot watched Rocket stomp away through the ruins. The others all shared looks. Peter looked more annoyed than angry; Gamora looked concerned; Drax looked confused; and Loki looked bored—but that was how he always looked when he wanted to hide his emotions, Groot did the same now that he was older. The four looked down at the necklace and death baton.

“Did you guys find any labs?” Gamora asked carefully as she peeled off her wetsuit.

“What kind of labs?” Groot asked. They were here for a weapon, but the others didn’t seem to mean a weapon lab.

Unsurprisingly, Peter picked up what Gamora was hinting at—the two had one mind if they weren’t completely misunderstanding each other. Maybe that’s what it meant to love someone romantically. Couples in Peter’s movies and songs seemed to agree. “Did you guys find any labs for experimenting on sentients?” Peter asked softly. He shoved his wetsuit in a lined bag and passed it to Gamora to add hers.

Groot shook his head and clutched his game reassuringly. He looked back at the necklace and death baton. “There were paving stones stacked as a memorial.” Whoever had made it must have survived the weapon. Maybe they’d been off-world and returned to find everyone they knew dead.

“A memorial?” Loki asked as he picked up the death baton. He had magicked the water away along with his wetsuit.

“You shouldn’t touch that,” Groot warned just as he had Rocket.

“Why not?” Loki inspected the death baton, but didn’t seem to sense anything. Groot felt cold as Loki added, “It may be hollow, but my magic can’t tell us what’s inside. Same as the walls.”

“We’ll see if we can find a scanner to penetrate the rock layer.” Gamora said as she bent to pick up the necklace. “Is this okay to handle?” she asked indulgently.

They wouldn’t take his feelings anymore seriously than Rocket. “Whatever,” he grunted.

“Can you lead us to the memorial?” Loki asked, clearly thinking something as he gripped the death baton with both hands.

Groot hesitated. He didn’t want to go back there. The cairn had a lot of stones and the lack of plantlife where it should have been was wrong. The garden felt sacred and he didn’t want to trespass with even more people.

“We should pay our respects.” Drax had finally worked off his wetsuit, the skin on his chest irritated. “But perhaps we should first check on friend Rocket.”

“Yeah, I don’t like the idea of leavin’ him alone with Mantis in this mood.” Peter nodded and set off for the Benatar. “Reminds me a bit too much of him on Sovereign and Berhert.”

Gamora and Drax immediately followed Peter. Loki frowned, but eventually followed as well. Groot was thankful for the out. He was also worried about Rocket and maybe the others would forget he’d mentioned the memorial.

Once they returned to the Benatar, Groot retreated to his room. Everything felt wrong. Mantis hadn’t even greeted him, she’d asked Peter and Gamora about Rocket instead. No one bothered to ask him anything else. What did he know afterall?

“Peter!” Gamora called out, her running feet echoing down the hall. “I need help in the med bay! Mantis, you come too!”

Naturally, Groot ran to the med bay along with everyone else aboard. Gamora was setting Rocket down on the scanning table and trying to keep his head stable as his body spasmed violently.

“What the heck happened?” Peter asked as he took stock of the situation and began rooting through drawers for the medical scanner.

“I do not know! I went to check on him and he collapsed!” Gamora replied.

Mantis reached out a palm to Rocket’s forehead and immediately pulled back. Her antenna dimmed as soon as the contact ended and drooped along with her face. “He is terrified. He thinks we wish to hurt him!” Her expression was one of horror.

“Scanner doesn’t know what it is!” Peter swore.

“It’s possible this is something local. We should return to Goshta in case they know more.” Loki said quickly.

“Help her,” Peter ordered, pointing from Loki to Gamora. He ran out of the room, “I’ll get us in the air!”

“What if it is the plague?” Drax suggested quietly, his eyes locked on Rocket’s now still form.

Gamora ignored him. “Mantis, hand me the blood kit. I want to take a sample.”

Mantis scrambled for the correct cabinet as the Benatar took to the air.

“Groot, take Drax out of here. I need space to work.” Gamora enjoined. She refocused on Rocket. “Mantis, can you calm him?”

“I’m not leaving.” Groot demanded. She was trying to manipulate him so he’d think he was more trusted in a crisis than Drax. All to save his feelings because they all saw him as a kid. How stupid did she think he was?

Drax gently grabbed Groot’s arm and started to pull him out of the room.

“His fear is overwhelming,” Mantis said quietly, her voice quaking.

Groot looked at Mantis’s strained face and Rocket’s twisted grimace. He pulled away from Drax. “No! You can’t make me go!”

Drax opened his mouth, but was silenced as his head hit the ceiling. Groot’s back hit the ceiling as well. He quickly caught himself and Drax before the floor could take a turn.

“Rocket!” Groot twisted to find him. Gamora was hugging the scanning table, pining Rocket in place and keeping herself still.

“Quill! I thought you were a better pilot!” Loki admonished. He was unscathed and unaffected. Mantis was in a green cushion of his magic, but the cut on her head proved she’d still hit something.

The ship bucked again.

“Peter!” Gamora yelled.

Groot didn’t always need words to understand what a person was saying. He could hear everything her heart was saying. She was scared: for Rocket, for Peter, for the team. She was frustrated. She was hoping this was some stunt or dumb joke with terrible timing. But she knew something was seriously wrong. She was angry that these events were beyond her control.

“Somethin’s messing with the computer. It thinks we’re gonna crash, but it’s the one makin’ us.” Peter’s voice was strained. Anything that hadn’t been secured was rattling around the ship. “Hold on! It’s gonna be a rough landing!”

“Can we make it to Goshta?”

“I’ll get us there.” Peter’s voice was steel.

Groot stared at Rocket and held his breath. Nothing could happen to his family. Nothing.

The ship pitched sharply as Peter yelled, “Brace!”

Loki encompassed everyone in magical cushions. It didn’t prevent them from feeling the impact as the ship slammed into the dirt and slid a bit. However, no one complained of sore necks and Groot was relieved he wouldn’t need to worry about his family having snapped spines.

In an instant, Gamora cradled Rocket to her chest and bolted to the ramp. Groot followed, eyes still focused on Rocket. The ramp didn’t fully lower before they jumped out and ran for town.

The Benatar had landed closer to Goshta’s building than the landing pad. People were staring at them in shock and calling to each other. As Gamora got closer, they moved back.

“Please! We need help!” Gamora gestured to Rocket. “Hano!”

The Goshta citizens parted as two elderly sentients moved towards Gamora, an Easik woman and a Kree man. They stopped Gamora from going further and motioned to Rocket as they spoke quickly. The other Goshtans moved further away.

“I don’t know what you’re saying. Please, he’s hurt. He’s feverish.” Gamora patted Rocket’s forehead meaningfully. “He seized.” She shook gently. “Loki, tell them!”

Groot couldn’t stand to hear her heart breaking even as her voice stayed strong.

“I haven’t learned enough to relay his symptoms.” Loki was panting from the sprint. Groot could hear Loki’s guilt and self-loathing. He thought he wasn’t enough. He thought Rocket would die and it would be his fault. Groot didn’t know what to say to help.

“Hano!” The elderly couple yelled and the crowd responded.

“I’m here!” Hano broke through the line of people. As she moved forward, some of the crowd moved to pull her back in warning. Did they think the Guardian’s would hurt her? She said something quietly and persisted.

“He’s feverish and had a seizure of some kind.” Gamora said.

Hano wheezed to the elderly couple. They responded, waving at Rocket and the crowd. “What else?” Hano asked. “Is this an illness, an allergy, poison?”

"He is very scared, terrified." Mantis offered.

“He was angry!” Groot added quickly. Rocket had been getting worse after the memorial.

Gamora began to translate, but Hano added. “Does he have any cuts? Did he come in contact with any plants?”

“Yes!” Groot pushed closer. “He complained about a spicula.”

“What did the plant look like?” Hano responded immediately. “Where did it scratch him?”

Groot was shocked she understood him, but shoved it aside. He pointed at Rocket’s left arm. “Around here. It was red and black. I didn’t like how it looked at us. He said I was overreacting and that it didn’t ‘break the skin’.”

Hano spoke rapidly to the couple. The old Easik woman nodded and shouted something to the crowd. The old Kree man grabbed Rocket’s arm and pulled out a knife.

Several things happened at once. Gamora pulled back and drew Godslayer with one arm, resting it at the Kree’s throat; she hissed a threat for good measure. Drax drew his weapons. Peter yelled, “Whoa!” and pulled out his blasters. Groot, Loki, and Mantis tensed, but didn’t move.

“They have to remove the bramble or he’ll die!” Hano threw up her hands and stepped between Gamora and the man. She spoke quickly. “He knows what he’s doing. This isn’t the first jloxi wound Kel-Thei’s treated. If we don’t work quickly, your friend will run out of time!”

“I’ll do it.” Gamora gritted her teeth.

“No,” Hano’s voice was stern. Groot could hear the ageless experience. “You don’t know how to get it out whole. Kel-Thei needs to do it.”

Despite the situation, Groot was stunned and judging by their expressions, so was everyone else. No one ever lectured the ‘most dangerous woman in the galaxy’!

Hano pushed Godslayer away and gently took Rocket’s arm. “Trust me.”

Gamora nodded.

Groot could tell Kel-Thei had a lot of practice: he worked quickly and precisely. The Easik, Xheehmo, retrieved herbs from her bag and ground a paste. As soon as the thorn was out, she packed it into the cut and smeared it around the area. Kel-Thei ran to clean his hands and blade as Xheehmo worked. He returned with a cold tea and eased into Rocket’s mouth. Once the cup was drained, Kel-Thei and Xheehmo checked Rocket over entirely.

Through it all, Gamora refused to set Rocket down. Either the couple stopped requesting it or Hano stopped translating that part. Drax and Mantis stood shoulder-to-shoulder in comfort to themselves. Peter had an arm around Gamora’s lower back and occasionally said something. Peter’s other hand was on Groot’s shoulder and squeezed whenever Groot or Peter got noticeably nervous—which was a lot. Loki watched everything expressionless, taking in all the sights and sounds. His mouth was a thin line and the miniscule wrinkle in his brow betrayed his worry.

Groot couldn’t stand the waiting. His nerves were going crazy. He felt as if he was rooted in soil again. His head flooded with images of Rocket dying. His family was supposed to grow now, not shrink. They had lost Yondu, but Groot had hardly known him. This was bigger. Rocket was his oldest friend and first family member—even if he didn’t remember much from his old self.

The Goshta crowd had moved closer to watch, no longer scared. They were mostly silent, but some would mumble to those beside them. All eyes were fixed on Rocket and Groot wanted to know what sign they were waiting to see. Was there a tell for whether the medicine worked or failed?

Rocket’s head twitched violently to the left. Then his body was rocked by five powerful, successive sneezes. The Goshtans let out a breath. They smiled and nodded and began to disperse.

“That means his body is healing. The jloxi didn’t make it deep enough into his brain. It’s a strange sideaffect and doesn’t always occur, but everyone swears by it.” Hano told them.

The couple started giving instructions and Hano communicated them. “His fever will take time to reduce. He needs lots of sleep and rest. His muscles will be sore and he should eat extra potassium. Magnesium salt in a bath could help as well. His mood swings shouldn’t last more than a month as his mind heals.

“Jloxi poison targets the fear center of the brain,” Hano’s voice softened, “he will need patience and reassurance. If he has any past trauma or phobias they will be exacerbated for the first week. Most people sleep through the first week. It’s fitful, but they don’t remember the dreams and they recover easier mentally. Everyone is different though. One child a year ago suffered insomnia during her first week of recovery and was convinced—by sleep deprived hallucinations—the family pet was planning to assassinate her. Your friend could fall anywhere on that spectrum.”

Hano waited for the couple to say more and when they didn’t continue, she asked for questions.

Groot tuned out Gamora and Peter’s follow-up questions. Now that the action was over, he felt guilty. He should have seen the vine and warned Rocket instead of fixating on the cairn. He should have steered them out of the garden as soon as he felt how off everything was and not let Rocket have his way. He should–

Mantis set a gentle palm on his arm and smiled at him. Her antenna weren’t glowing, but her eyes were knowing. “He will recover,” she said softly before moving away.

Hano was suddenly in front of him. The healing couple were waiting for the other Guardians to finish a discussion. Hano smiled and reassuringly squeezed his hand.

“I wish I could have done more,” he babbled to her fathomless, stormy ocean eyes. “I knew that plant was evil. I knew that place was evil. The dead garden. The death baton.”

“You did well,” she assured him and turned away as the couple called her.

Groot didn’t stop her. His brain had suddenly clicked and he understood the couple perfectly. Hano had replied in his language and now he could understand the language she had been thinking previously. How did she speak it?

“Are you sure about them staying?” Xheehmo asked Hano. “You need to be careful.”

“The raccoon needs to stay near one of you in case there are any complications. They’ll insist on staying with him. They won’t let him be alone. Plus their ship is damaged.” Hano responded.

“They need to finish finding that weapon and go.” Kel-Thei grumbled.

“They already found it.” Hano told him. “They’ll be leaving as soon as their friend recovers.”

“Hano!” Peter called. “We decided to take you up on the offer. Are you sure you have enough beds?”

Groot saw Loki studying the elderly couple subtly. He understood what they were saying now too. He’d gotten direct translation lessons afterall.

Chapter Text

Loki lay in wait under a secluded bower in the predawn light. The arbor plants were colorful and perfumed. It was a beautiful view during daylight and moonlight, he was certain the sunrise was a sight to behold. The chairs faced the mountain presiding over Goshta’s western horizon. The locals called it the Citadel—though Loki had yet to inquire the reason.

For the moment, he was keeping his understanding of the local language to himself, even from the other Guardians. He couldn’t trust their acting. Groot was already reacting strangely to the locals when they spoke to or around him. Drax was useless in matters of deception. Mantis might catch on so Loki was avoiding her as politely as possible. Quill was too busy to worry.

Mantis, Gamora, and Groot had stayed by Rocket’s side the first night and following day. Hano had offered them lodging at her house, in the woods not far from town. Apparently, the healers both preferred to live in the wilds and Hano’s home was closer than the Benatar could currently travel. The ship was also at the opposite end of Goshta.

Quill had reluctantly parted from his family to repair the Benatar. As there were not enough beds, Loki and Drax had joined him. The Benatar’s navigation and internal systems had somehow been scrambled and Quill was working to discover the reason along with manually recalibrating sensors. Drax was not particularly mechanically inclined, but he understood the basics and had set to task repairing the hull damage. Loki was glad not to be a mechanic subjected to such tedious drivel and instead wandered the town absorbing conversations.

Gamora and Groot had returned the second evening to put the ship’s cargo and living quarters back in order. Gamora also assisted Quill with repairing communications. Loki had heard the couple whispering possibilities that Rocket had damaged the computer in paranoia.. Gamora had seen him hide his tablet from her and the two had not had time to crack the raccoon’s encryption or password.

Loki had taken his leave that same evening along with Drax to share in the “duty of standing vigil over their fallen comrade”. Mantis greeted them tiredly. She kept Rocket calm enough to eat and drink and helped him back to sleep immediately afterwards. She was too tired to keep his sleep restful, but they couldn’t risk his mania while awake. Her guilt was evident, but the story of Rocket’s one full episode awake—attacking everyone and clawing together a bomb with Gamora only narrowly rendering him unconscious in time to avoid detonation—was a sound excuse.

Unfortunately, Hano only had one spare bed which currently belonged to Rocket. Mantis slept on the floor next to him in the spare room while Loki and Drax spent the night on the floor in the main space. Hano’s bed was given to one of the healers as they traded shifts and the host herself slept on the floor beside.

An unofficial rotation of cooks and cleaners helped Hano to maintain the house and provide for her guests. The townspeople had brought extra bedding for the Guardians staying at the house as well to help to make the floor bearable. Endless offerings of snacks and warm drinks were at hand wherever the Guardians went around Goshta, even on the Benatar. Each evening, the Guardians crammed into Hano’s house for a freshly cooked meal and update from Xheehmo or Kel-Thei.

Four days went by of rotating Guardians and healers as Quill toiled on the ship. Rocket’s sleep remained disturbed, but Mantis reported less effort required to calm him for meals. He still threatened everyone—including Groot on one occasion—with death. The tree made the saddest eyes for the rest of that day.

Regardless how late the previous night, Hano always rose before each dawn to walk to this specific shaded vista to watch the sunrise. Gamora had questioned her leaving the first morning and been informed of the ritual. Loki had also heard Xheehmo tell the girl to be careful. It was the perfect place to interrogate her alone.

“Good morning, Loki.” Hano held out a second warm drink as she settled into a chair.

Recovering quickly, he graciously accepted the proffered beverage. He mourned the fact he was predictable to a stranger as he pleasantly sipped the well balanced herbal tea. Hano had proven to be quite adept at tea preparation.

“I thought I would find out for myself how worthy this vision is of the sacrificed sleep.”

Hano smiled as she took a sip of her own drink. She returned the cup to her lap and curled both hands around it in an attempt to ward off the morning chill. Her eyes lazily studied the horizon in thought. “It refreshes the mind to witness nature’s gifts and think only in the moment.” She smirked, “A little time to oneself is also nice, especially while visitors are in the house.”

“Why make the offer if we are a burden?” Loki asked playfully.

“Not a burden,” she hummed, her gaze finally turning to him. “But you are inquisitive. You are not here solely for the sunrise. You have questions no doubt.”

“Surely, it is not unusual for visitors to have questions.” Loki smiled.

“I am quite sure yours are not the general kind.” She sighed, “I’ll not have my sunrise interrupted, but you may speak around it.”

“How did you come to Feevus V?” Loki knew Hano hadn’t lied to him yet, but there was certainly more to her story. He’d known as soon as he’d laid eyes on her that she was Midgardian. The others had taken it in stride, but he was very curious to know how such a thing happened. He could sense nothing unique about her.

“I told you before, my parent’s worked here.”

“Your Midgardian parents?”

“Midgardian?”

“Terran. Human. You are of Midgard, as my people refer to it, or Earth, as Quill would say.”

“I am speaking Xandarian with you,” she laughed. It was a beautiful, warm and inviting and entirely authentic sound.

Oh, she was a skilled deflector.

“Quill can also speak Xandarian, yet he is Midgardian.” Loki persisted. “You are the same.”

“I doubt all Xandarians would agree that his dialect is the same language as theirs.”

“I do not need to see you blush or bleed to know your blood is as red as Quill’s and every other Midgardian.”

“If you are certain of the answer, why ask the question?”

“Why not answer my question?”

“I have welcomed you and your friends as guests into my home and offered you aid while in need. Do I owe you personal details?”

“I am curious about whose home I am sleeping in vulnerable.”

“If you do not trust me, I can lodge elsewhere. You need not have accepted my offer for shelter, but I will not ask your injured friend to be moved now.”

“You speak differently depending on your company.”

“Many people adapt to match their conversation partners.” Hano seamlessly followed the change in topic with a twitch of her lips..

“You do the same in Goshta. You are different in the tavern than you are in the market. That is easily explainable, yes. However, they all respect you. Not simply as a competent member of society. Children treat you as they would a well-liked teacher. Those who appear to be age-mates treat you as an approachable elder. The elders treat you as an equal to defer to for wisdom. You walk among them and you speak like them at each level, but you are an outsider.”

Loki studied Hano as she quietly contemplated her tea. She looked sad and then chagrined.

“You have the ‘gift of tongues’. The translation during Rocket’s treatment completed the necessary base for fluency,” she spoke to her cup. “You are indeed famous for your silver tongue, but, admittedly, I thought that was due to your status as the ‘Prince of Lies’.” She exhaled, “The fault is mine for assuming.”

It was quiet for a moment. Loki staring at Hano, Hano looking at her lap. Then Hano chuckled to herself. “There is a saying in the US about people when they assume.”

“You admit you are Midgardian.” Loki kept his triumph internal, but his voice betrayed some smugness. “How are you familiar with Asgardian gifts?” he continued, choosing to ignore the reminder of his unflattering epithet.

“Wait until after,” Hano nodded to the Citadel as the first rays of the sun began to cut over the ridge. Loki followed her gaze. A quiet moment passed as the light played across the valley where Goshta nestled. The mountain’s colors changed from pale to warm hues as the golden light struck them.

It was indeed a beautiful sight. He couldn’t remember the last time he had watched a sunrise, but he did remember the last sunset with Odin. He shook off the melancholy and refocused on Hano.

Hano took a slow breath, sipped her tea, and turned to Loki. “An honest answer for an honest answer. You only get three. Choose your questions carefully.”

Loki pursed his lips in thought.

Hano smiled, “No, the first answer about my species doesn’t count.”

“Groot told us that the stone scepter we found is the Kïrkdhish. How do you know that? No one knows what it looks like nor has anyone found it during all the excavations. Yet we arrive and find it within a few hours of searching.” Probably best to start with the mission, Loki sighed internally. Nova Prime would owe him.

“As I said before, my parents worked in those particular ruins. They told me what the Kïrkdhish was and where to find it. I can’t speak to why previous excavations failed. Though it is rather unassuming and boring visually. Almost everyone focused on the other ruins.” Hano chose her words carefully.

There was no lie Loki could find. He wanted to ask why the girl’s parents wouldn’t have told anyone else. If they meant to keep it a secret, why tell Hano and not hide it somewhere else? Why hadn’t Hano done something with it either? He didn’t want to waste his two remaining questions though.

“Why haven’t you told your friends that you can understand Goshanti?”

“You have been an honest interpreter as far as I have witnessed. I have not heard any ill will towards my teammates or myself. I’m certain you noticed that they are not all skilled actors. Drax especially lacked credibility when we first met you with a story about orloni.” Loki smiled. Humor was always a good way to build trust.

Hano huffed good-naturedly at the memory. “I did notice a certain stiffness in his performance.” Her eyes turned knowing, “However, I think the true reason you haven’t told them is that you’re used to keeping secrets and operating alone or with people you don’t actually trust.”

“You sound as if you’re speaking from experience.” How dare this child presume to know him or his motives.

Hano shrugged. “Another question.”

“A statement of observation, not a question.” Loki corrected quickly.

“No, I am waiting for your next question. I can tell the difference between statements and questions.” She smiled playfully.

Loki cursed his hasty mouth. Now he had lost his footing while talking to a Midgardian and, worse still, she knew it. He blamed his lack of sleep from being on the floor last night and rising early for the ridiculous sunrise. He needed to turn the conversation around. He reached for a question to throw her off.

“You are Midgardian. Hano Zeth is a Xandarian name. What is your real human name and family?”

“I’m surprised anyone working with Gamora and Nebula has never heard of adoption. Thanos was cruel, but he declared several beings his adopted children. Whether he treated them like a proper family is up for debate. Furthermore, the definition of what makes a group a real family is something I'm sure your teammates would tell you has nothing to do with blood or species.”

“That isn’t an honest answer.”

“Many adopted children do not know their birth name or parents. Such a question is incredibly callous and I expect better from someone with your background. The answer is Hannah Mercer and I don’t know where my human parents are currently, but I hope they are safe.” Hano spoke quickly.

’Someone with your background’, Does she know I’m adopted? Loki thought in a panic. True, Thor had told the Avengers and SHIELD, but the fact wasn’t common knowledge on Midgard, let alone Asgard or New Asgard. How could this isolated planet receive such news? Quill had corrected Nova Prime without mentioning there was an option other than Odinson—the Guardians knew. Had they told people?

“A name is merely what we choose to answer when called. It can be bestowed by others or ourselves. Family names can be based on parents, location, attributes. The linguistic origins don’t much matter. Here I am Hano Zeth and would like to remain as such.

“You are Loki now, but I’m sure you have used other names in the past. Names you might think suit you better. Nicknames from your parents or friends. Your last name is based on your mother or fath–”

Loki returned to the present moment and interrupted Hano’s rambling. “Asgardians use their father’s name.”

“Not always. Bóthild the Brave’s children all used their mother’s name in place of their father. Ingrid and Saga Bóthilddotter and Frode Bóthildson”

“Bóthild was better known than her husband.”

“Not when their children were born.”

“She had to have been or the children would’ve had his name.”

“They may have taken her name because she was the better parent. There’s no use in honoring a bad one.”

“That’s not how it works. Asgardians always take their father’s name unless the mother is better known. Parenting abilities have nothing to do with it. Adopted children use their birth parent’s name unless theirs is unknown.” Loki snapped.

“The child can choose the name. The relationship of parent and child is a sacred trust and if parents fail, their children owe them nothing. If that is no longer the case, then perhaps Asgard has fallen from the honor they claim.”

“You don’t know Asgardian culture. I don’t care whatever anthropology papers you read–” What papers could she have read? Asgard had always prevented study from outsiders. Earth was only recently learning about Asgardian culture because New Asgard was located on the planet.

Bóthild the Brave wasn’t all that well known a hero either. Ingrid had married into the royal family and was the main advisor to Odin’s grandfather. Saga was only known among those who studied magic, though she’d lost her gift from over exertion. Frode had been a scholar and inventor. None of them were revolutionary figures, merely footnotes in Asgardian history texts.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Who are you? You know far too much for Feevus V or Earth.”

Chapter Text

Hano met Loki’s gaze without hesitation, a self-effacing smile on her lips. “I believe I am owed an answer before you may seek another.”

“No more games.” Loki stood, towering over where she sat. “You act as if the term ‘Midgardian’ is foreign to you, yet you know of Bóthild the Brave. She is merely a footnote in Asgardian history, her children less so. There is no way an outsider would be aware of her name let alone her children’s preference for surnames.”

He stepped closer.

“You claim to have been raised here. How can you know anything about Asgard? We are gods, no mere mortal could comprehend the cognizance of our people nor the sagacity of our magnolious onus.” His voice was dripping with scorn he didn’t attempt to correct. He would not be toyed with by some simpering fool with delusions of wisdom.

Hano’s face closed off. He had never witnessed such consummate aloofness even in the Allfather’s court. “Clearly you have some obstinate discrimination still in need of being addressed if you believe the realm of the ‘gods’ has all the answers.”

She laughed. This time the sound was deprecating and full of pity. “Your own vaunted Allfather,” she rolled the word on her tongue with disgust, “is incapable of admitting even a minor mistake, yet you think anything you’ve read or learned from his approved histories can actually be trusted? What of the sister your dear father erased so thoroughly? All of your elders falling in line to carry out his will and hide his ignominy. It was far from the first expurgating your history has suffered. Only a fool would willfully ignore such evidence. He emulated his predecessors’ malversation perfectly.”

Hano derided Loki’s outburst as if he were a spoiled man-child throwing a tantrum. The audacity. This was not normal Midgardian behavior. Was she insane?

Then her words fully digested.

“How can you know what you speak?” Loki hissed. “Who or what are you?” He would not fall for any further distractions.

Hano stood firm; her glasz eyes practically glowing with an inner confidence and power he’d only witnessed from his mother. She said nothing.

Loki lost his patience.

Yet again.

He would be embarrassed about the blunder later, in private, and grateful his team had not borne witness.

“Who are you,” Loki spat, “to claim possession of arcane knowledge and speak to me with such arrogance? Answer me, girl. How do you know anything of Asgard? How did you get to this insufferable planet? If you wish to be shrouded in secrets, why did you tell us where to find this–”

Loki created a perfect replica of the Kïrkdhish and pushed it towards Hano as emphasis. He had no intention of striking her with it and, though he expected her to lean back, he ensured that it would still fall short of making actual contact. He expected her to either continue glaring unflinchingly or be intimidated by the object invading her space.

Instead, Hano’s eyes blew wide in fear, pupils dilating to the size of coins. She shrank back, carefully avoiding it, and violently threw herself from the chair. Landing, she rolled to put the chair between them and took a step back. The split second, cascading reactions all occurred while she shrieked, “Don’t touch me with that!”

Hano’s eyes remained locked on the Kïrkdhish as her lungs heaved for air and her muscles appeared to freeze in panic

Loki didn’t move.

What in the Nine Realms had just happened? Hano hadn’t shown so much emotion the entire time he’d been observing her in Goshta. She never warned them not to touch the Kïrkdhish. All of the Guardians had handled it at some point to inspect it.

Only that wasn’t quite true. Groot had refused to touch the scepter. Warned against it, in fact. He called it a “death baton” and scowled whenever they ignored him. Perhaps there was something about it only certain sentients could sense.

Despite Hano’s reaction, Loki wished he had the real Kïrkdhish now so that he could study it around her. His magic hadn’t shown him anything past the stone layer and they had been so busy with repairs and Rocket’s recovery that they had yet to find a machine to compensate. What could Hano and Groot see that was hidden to everyone else?

“Hano!” a young voice yelled as the sound of several people running through the forest came crashing towards the pair.

A small Easik child stumbled out, scrambling towards Hano with wild eyes.

“Xlihall!” Hano called, snapping out of her torpor.

Not far behind the boy, a Kree soldier burst out and grabbed for him, only to stop short when Hano’s tea cup landed and shattered on the Kree’s head. Hano slipped forward and hauled the Easik behind her. Then moved behind Loki as more Kree followed.

The Kree pursuers stopped near the edge of the trees and raised their weapons. There were five within the clearing and Loki could sense two more hiding among the trees. The one Hano had stunned with her tea cup took a crouch position instead of standing back up. They were wary and Loki was certain they recognized him.

“Hand over the Kïrkdhish and you will be spared, Asgardian.” The lead soldier commanded. At the last word a few of the soldiers nervously tighten their grip on their weapons.

Finally, someone recognized Loki’s power. He was due far more respect, but it was certainly better than nothing.

“There’s no need for threats.” Loki artificially placated, happily slipping into his unctuous warrior character. This was something comfortably familiar. If only his brother or the Guardians were by his side to complete the picture. He let his magic cover the battlefield.

“Comply,” the leader sneered, eyes moving from Loki to Hano, “or die.”

“If you insist,” Loki smirked. In one fluid motion, Loki hurled a dagger at the lead soldier and dove for Hano and Xlihall. The Kree immediately opened fire, but the dagger disappeared into harmless green light and so did the three figures the Kree targeted, though they only shot the Loki.

Suddenly, Loki was among them. The close quarters precluded the use of their guns, lest they run the risk of friendly fire, and they grabbed blades and hefted energy rifles as clubs. Loki whirled and danced, laughing as he tricked them into tackling each other. As an additional insult, he mainly used the Kïrkdhish replica to bludgeon or block attackers. It was cumbersome, but worth it.

Once the Kree were down—including the two cowards in the forest who attempted to run—Loki gave the all clear and revealed Hano and the Easik boy huddled behind the chairs. She had shielded the child completely with her body and blocked his view of the violence while whispering comforting words in his ear.

“We should make our way back to your house.” Loki nodded in the direction towards Rocket, Mantis, and Gamora.

“Da and I saw them land.” The boy clung to Hano as they stood and his voice was soft, but it didn’t shake as he rushed through his story. “We told grandma and she and Kel-Thei took the visitors and patients to the Citadel. Da went to warn town. Grandma said to tell you.” He looked at Hano as if she had all the answers in the universe.

“You did a great job, Xlihall.” Hano told him warmly in Goshanti, her voice calm. “You’ve been very brave. Can you be brave for a little longer?”

The boy nodded, scratching his scales nervously. Hano kept him hugged close.

Hano turned to Loki. “Can your ship fly? We need to get that out of here.” She jerked her chin at the replica.

Loki huffed. “No, Quill hasn’t been able to get the computer sorted. We’d likely just come right back down. And this isn’t the real thing.” Loki let the Kïrkdhish replica crumble to dust and then fade to green sparks.

Xlihall’s eyes widened while Hano narrowed hers. ”Can you keep us hidden like that while we move and with more? We need to evacuate Goshta.”

Loki set his jaw, “We should–”

“Uh, guys?” Quill’s questioning voice came across Loki’s comm. “Drax and I just took out a Kree purist on the ship. Comms keep bein’ jammed.” That explained the silence from Gamora and her group. “More incom–” Quill attempted to continue.

The transmission cut off and a distant explosion sounded from the direction of town.

Loki ground his teeth. “Let’s go,” he ordered as he moved toward town. “Quill needs backup and the others will converge on the ship’s location.”

“It’s a trap. They let the transmission through. The Kïrkdhish must not have been found.” Hano shook her head. “We need to evacuate if we can’t take what they want off planet.”

“It’s on the ship,” Loki said grimly. “I’m going–”

“Hannah Mercer,” a loud voice sounded from every comm.

Hano and Loki shared a look.

“If you do not surrender yourself within thirty minutes,” the voice continued, “then every sentient on this planet will be killed.”

Hano’s face paled.

“What?” Loki thought aloud. He stared at her, “How do they know you? Don’t!”

Hano dove for a Kree comm. Xlihall, still clinging to her, followed. His eyes were darting in confusion over the conversations in Kree and Xandarian.

In perfect Kree, Hano demanded, “Swear an oath on the blood and honor of your ancestors that if I deliver myself to you or your people, you will leave this planet and its inhabitants as they currently exist.”

“What are you–” Loki sibilated.

“Quiet. I’m buying us time!” Hano picked Xlihall up, placed him on her hip, and moved towards the village.

“I have already issued a rewarding ultimatum.” The voice rejoined coldly.

“The Guardians will protect the civilians. You need to remain hidden.” Loki reasoned. He needed answers as well, but that could certainly wait until the current crisis was over.

“How will they protect the planet? You said it yourself, the ship is broken!” Hano seethed helplessly.

“We’ll think of a plan. Quill and the others saved planets before I joined and it’ll be even easier now. You said that what they want should be kept from them. They’ll kill you or worse!” Loki had suffered enough torture himself that he no longer wished it on anyone other than torturers themselves.

“An oath of ancestral blood and honor cannot be broken, even when given to an impure or lesser being.” Hano shot back over the comm, ignoring Loki entirely.

“You question my word?” The voice was irate.

“Hell yeah, I do.” Hano muttered to herself. Xlihall whined and she squeezed him closer as he tucked his head into her shoulder. Her eyes didn’t waver.

“I have had dealings with heretical Kree in the past whose word could not be trusted. You claim to live with honor, but so did they. I will not allow thousands to die because I did not learn from my mistake.” Her response was far more diplomatic than Loki would have given.

“They are not my brothers and I owe you nothing for their actions. Hand. Yourself. Over.”

Hano frowned. “Declare the oath or I will ensure you cannot capture me.”

“Then you gamble the lives of everything here.” The voice sniggered.

“No,” Hano’s voice was certain. “You risk your mission. I will be out of reach and you will have done what you wish to do already, but with no prize.”

There was silence.

“Hano, what do you mean…?” Loki asked. Surely, she wasn’t suggesting…

Hano locked eyes with Loki. Surely she was.

“On the blood and honor of the house and ancestors of Vokk-Ty, if Hannah Mercer surrenders herself to my people in town within the next thirty minutes, we will leave this planet and the sentients as they are now.” The voice gritted out.

“I am on my way,” Hano nodded even though the comm had no video. She hurled the comm into the trees and let out a shaky breath.

“Hano, what do they want with you?” Loki caught her arm.

“Nothing good, but nothing I haven’t already endured.” Hano gently walked out of his grip and he let her. “More than likely they want my parents’ information on the Kïrkdhish. They may have recovered it from your ship after all.”

“All the more reason not to let you go with them.” Loki’s magic hid them as they walked and muted their voices to outside ears.

“If I hide, everyone dies. You can’t protect every inhabitant of Feevus V without a working ship. Besides,” she gave a weak laugh, “if you guys survive, you can launch a rescue. If they’d killed the Guardians, they’d be gloating.”

“We can buy time to–”

“No tricks,” Hano shook her head sadly. “He swore the oath. The only way they can kill everyone now is if I don’t hold up my end of the deal. I need to hand myself over.” It sounded like she was convincing herself the sacrifice would work.

“Hano,” Loki stepped in front of her, “we haven’t fixed communications yet. If the ship is still in one piece, there’s no guarantee we could get to you or even send word that a rescue is needed.”

“I won’t give them what they want.” Her eyes were haunted. “I won’t break or let that weapon be used again. If you can’t get to me, I’ll find a more permanent escape route.” She shrugged, eyes glassy, “It would hardly be the first such escape and they’d be unable to follow.”

“Hano,” Loki said softly. Horror was rising within him.

“Loki,” Hano said, equally as soft, her tone almost beseeching. She shifted Xlihall so that he was clinging to her front, arms and legs wrapped around her like a vest, head now tucked in her neck.

Somberly, she took Loki’s right hand in both of hers. She ran her right index and middle finger down the vein in his forearm. “We all walk different paths of life,” she whispered reverently in Asgardian. When her fingers touched the heel of his palm, she split her fingers so that they traveled different sides of his open hand. “This is where our paths diverge.” She brought the fingers back together at the base of his middle and ring finger. “I have faith they will converge again, in this life or the next.”

Loki stared at her, his eyes stinging slightly. This was an entreaty his mother had taught him. Mages used it only in the most serious of situations. It was a promise of commitment to an inexorable task and a request for trust from fellow seiðr weavers. He had only received it once when Frigga had taught him the words and motions. He had only truly witnessed it once when he was a child.

A plague had swept through those blessed with seiðr, the Healing Halls overrun with patients. Loki had been one of the first affected, though he clung to life the longest. He laid in his bed while Frigga tended to him, despite Odin demanding she keep her distance lest she contract the illness too. Thor had sworn to find a way to punch the sickness from him, his blue eyes full of grief and love—how had he ever overlooked his brother’s care?

A student of his mother, Spákona, had snuck into his chambers. She and Frigga had quietly argued about a potential cure, the details lost to his feverish understanding. Then Spákona had completed the obsecration and his mother had reluctantly given her blessing. Three days later, Loki began to recover, as did those still clinging to life in the Healing Halls.

When he asked how Spákona had cured them, Frigga—he had never seen his mother so despondent—told him not to mention her again. He’d insisted on thanking her. Then mother told him she was gone. She had answered her calling and was a true warrior of Asgard, but Odin could never hear of what Loki had witnessed that night.

That, Loki thought subduely, was when I learned how little father cared for the “trickery” of master magicians. Now, he wondered if there had been more to it. To never mention Spákona to anyone ever again was drastic for someone who had saved so many lives, regardless of the rules she had broken. Hano had said much of Asgard’s history had been edited. He needed to look into this further.

Shaking his head, he returned to the present. Perhaps Hano’s adopted parents were Asgardian rather than Xandarian. It would explain her knowledge and being a polyglot. He studied Hano, wondering if he looked as hesitant as Frigga in his memory. “If that is what you must do, how may I help?”

Hano’s face softened in relief. She responded in Goshanti, “I need you to evacuate as much of Goshta as possible. I’ll head to the village square.”

Xlihall looked up at the words.

“Do you remember the route to the Citadel?” Hano asked Xlihall. She waited for his nod before continuing, “I need you to show Loki where it is then follow the tunnels. He understands Goshanti so he’ll help everyone else get there.”

Xlihall stared at Loki wide eyed. He looked back at Hano and sniffled, “What about you?”

“I have to go.”

He seemed to immediately grasp her intent. “No!” he cried, arms constricting her neck.

“Xlihall, I have duties beyond the village.” She kissed the boy’s forehead tenderly and carded a hand through his hair. “I must do my part. Your grandma and Kel-Thei will need your help with the patients. I’ll send your da along, if I see him. He may already be waiting.”

Xlihall’s voice was timorous as he allowed Hano to deposit him back on the ground, “I hope I see you again.”

She gave the boy one last smile. “Good luck,” she hugged him quickly. “Watch over him,” Hano told Loki in Xandarian. “There’s no need to hide me now. I need to get there as quickly as possible. I’ll see if I can stall their takeoff, but it’s probably best if they leave immediately.”

“Take care,” Loki told her steadily.

“You as well,” Hano nodded. She didn’t look back as she jogged away.

“Hurry!” Xlihall whisper-shouted as he took Loki’s hand and hauled him towards town in a different direction. They heard calls of panic as they neared the town. Xlihall slowed fearfully, but Loki encouraged him onward.

Finally, Xlihall led him to a copse of thick, low growing trees. The boy snaked behind a branch and Loki realized the new angle revealed a path into the hidden center. Without slowing, the Easik put his hand under a large boulder and it silently opened to reveal a ladder down into a dimly lit tunnel.

Xlihall studied Loki charily, then lowered himself down. “Bring everyone here. They know how to open it. We’re trusting you!” The boy pulled something and the boulder sealed the entrance once more. His childish glare was the last thing Loki saw.

Loki hurried to the closest building. It was empty, as far as he could tell. Everything was abandoned hastily, but there was no sign of a struggle. Perhaps Xlihall’s da had warned some of the village in time.

Using his magic, he found a mother and a diverse group of children hiding in a basement. He quickly hid them with a spell and sent them on their way. Their mistrust turned to unquestioning adherence as soon as he greeted them in Goshanti and told them he was following Hano’s plans. The girl truly held a strange respect.

He ghosted around parading Kree purists and hid more stragglers. How much time had passed? No more broadcasts had been sent over the comms, but the Kree obviously weren’t pulling out. Did they intend to break their word? He hadn’t seen any sign of the Guardians. Had they really evacuated? He wanted to check the ship, but he’d given Hano his word.

Suddenly, there was screaming and he instinctively ran towards it, trusting his seiðr to keep him invisible. The Kree purists he’d passed also came running. They all ran to the center of town and where a large Kree ship was resting above and between the buildings.

The Kree purist Hano had brained with her tea cup was holding the same Midgardian by her neck. His face was livid. Her expression was condescendingly bored.

“We need her alive,” a female soldier said in annoyance.

“Not them,” the soldier twisted his face at Hano as he leveled a gun at the Goshta citizens crowded in a hostage circle.

“Vokk-Ty gave his word.” The same female soldier notified him. “The Terran gave herself up willingly so everyone stays as they were when she arrived.” She looked at the other soldiers. “We’re leaving,” she ordered.

“You keep your word and I keep mine.” Hano snarled, but she didn’t move as the soldier tightened his grip.

“Well he’s not here, Ti-Shak, and she’s not Kree.” The soldier scoffed. Loki needed to get these people out of here, but there were over a hundred Kree circling the crowd and shuffling toward the ship.

“It was an ancestral oath of blood and honor.” Another soldier spoke up, though his gun was still trained on the crowd. Many of the Goshtans were staring at the Kree murderously.

“Get her and yourself on the ship, Sis-Rancis.” Ti-Shak growled.

“I don’t answer to you.” Sis-Rancis smirked, his hold on Hano relaxing. He turned to look Ti-Shak in the eye, “Besides, they attacked fir–”

Hano exploded forward. Her foot caught Sis-Rancis in the groin and her left upper arm came down on his hand around her neck as she twisted out of his grasp. Other soldiers moved forward, but Hano elbowed one in the head and took his gun.

While all the attention was on Hano, Loki blanketed his magic over the hostages. They blinked out of existence and a pulse hit the Kree guards. It wasn’t enough to hurt them, most even kept their footing, but his seiðr was too low from constant illusions on multiple, living and moving people to accomplish more. Unfortunately, the pulse caught Hano by surprise and the soldiers were able to knock the gun from her hands and tackle her to the ground.

“To the Citadel!” Loki yelled. Most of the Goshtans ran towards him and freedom, not questioning the pulse that missed them or why their guards were wiping their heads in confusion. Some found cover and began hurling rocks and refuse at the Kree purists surrounding Hano. Loki tried to bolster their shelters’ defense with his magic.

“Fall back!” Ti-Shak commanded as a particularly large stone pelted Sis-Rancis in the back.

The Kree fired blindly to cover their retreat. Two wrangled Hano up the ramp of the ship.

“Peter! Mant–!” Hano screeched as the ramp closed.

The Goshtans still in the town covered their heads and ears as the ship launched.

“Quickly! The Citadel!” Loki directed. He could collapse from exhaustion later. He needed to find the others. He needed to know for certain why Hano had called out Quill and Mantis’s names.

Chapter Text

Peter’s head was pounding in time with his pulse. His brain felt like overcooked oatmeal as he struggled to think. Had he lost another doomed drinking game with Rocket and Drax? This headache felt worse than the time Thor introduced them to one of his favorites. Bad idea.

Someone nearby was softly humming an unfamiliar tune. The sound didn’t hurt so he assumed he wasn’t hungover. Come to think of it, the light filtering through his eyelids didn’t stab his retinas. Probably not a concussion either. Exhaustion induced migraine? His body felt sluggish, even if he hadn’t attempted to move yet.

“Wha’ song s’that?” he murmured. Surprised by how rough his speech was, he cleared his throat, stretched his tongue, and worked his jaw. Even that movement felt monumental.

The humming stopped. “A lullaby my mother used to sing,” a familiar voice answered.

Peter remembered the mission from Nova Prime. He remembered landing the Benatar on Feevus V. They had explored the ruins and Rocket was hurt. The locals had helped and one even put them up in her home. What was her name again?

“Hano?”

There was a shuffling sound. “I’m here.” Her voice was a little closer.

Had he accidentally fallen asleep on her floor again before dinner? The floor was more uncomfortable than he remembered. His left side ached from the hard surface, his left arm bent next to his head and his right arm folded over his chest so its elbow was propped on his left elbow and his left cheek rested on his right palm. His left leg was straight and his right leg was bent with his knee on the ground. The positioning felt awkward and his joints were stiff.

Must’ve rolled off the cushions, he thought.

He didn’t smell anything cooking. Maybe he was early and she hadn’t started cooking yet. That would explain the quiet. He should get up and help. Check on Rocket too.

He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes.

He was in a cell. Great. Like he needed to be captured. Again.

Glossy black squares formed 5 sides of the cubed space. A purple, translucent energy made up the last side, a glossy black hallway beyond. Typical Kree Purist architecture. They loved their blacks and purples.

Peter was lying along the right wall and Hano was sitting in the right back corner above his head, her right arm wrapped around her knees. She looked down at him as his eyes roved past her. Mantis was asleep along the back wall, her position the mirror of Peter’s when he first woke up. The only difference was that Mantis’s right hand seemed to be clutching Hano’s left hand.

“You…” Peter’s eyes ping-ponged from Mantis’s glowing antenna and Hano’s unfazed expression. “Doing okay?”

“The inhibitor they gave her emits a personalized forcefield. She’s not actually touching me, but the pressure seems to help. She was crying out before and I didn’t know what else to do,” Hano admitted. “That’s why I was humming.”

“Inhib–?” Peter started to ask. He looked down to see a large, metal band clasped tightly just above his right ankle.

“You and I match,” Hano tapped her free hand to her right ankle band. “Tasers and tranquilizers, I think.” She pointed her right hand to her neck and nodded towards Mantis, “Hers probably doesn’t have a ‘stun setting’ since it would disrupt the forcefield, but I’m sure it has the ‘knock-out’ one.”

“Shit.” Peter rolled onto all fours and crawled to his sister’s side. His muscles were too weak to stand, but he needed to make sure she was okay. Sure enough, a thinner band was around her neck. “A collar, seriously?” he spat. Mantis’s arms and face were also bruised.

He pictured the soldiers that had attacked him and Drax on the Benatar. If he found out which of them hurt and collared his sister, he’d kill the bastards slowly. And whichever one drugged him.

“They better hope we get out of here before the others show up!” Peter raised his hoarse voice, hoping a guard might be nearby. “The Guardians of the Galaxy will be gunnin’ for them!”

Unfortunately, there was a guard nearby and they had the remote to the ‘stun setting’. Peter collapsed as his arms and legs gave out. He hissed in annoyance more than pain—he’d gotten way too used to electrical torture to be safe, but his heart was still ticking normally as far as he knew. Guilt hit him when he noticed Hano gasping for breath the same as him when it ended. Whoops.

“We already defeated you, Guardians.” A voice sneered in Kree. “Your team’s lucky the bitch showed up before we could kill the rest.”

“What’s got him so defensive?” Peter snarked. Dude was definitely embarrassed by something. Peter had lots of experience with bruised egos aboard the Eclector. He knew when to make himself scarce if Yondu or Kragglin couldn’t or wouldn’t protect him from getting in the way. Plus his sperm donor was literally Ego in both name and character. Arrogant bastard.

“Still mad ‘bout muh tea cup,” Hano answered dazed. “I didn’ get to finish drinkin’ et.”

Christ, how many times had she been tased before if she was slurring this bad after one go? She didn’t make any sense.

“A tea cup?” Peter asked, apparently a little too loudly, as he turned toward the purple wall in confusion to find such a cup. Maybe he wasn’t taking the shock too well either.

The guard snarled and more electricity cut through them. Peter did his best to ride through the pain and ignore any humiliation from the sounds he uttered. Pain was pain, no one sounded cool while tortured. No one.

As the electricity ebbed and the spasms slowed, he focused more on breathing. Hano was getting hurt as much as him—he was thankful Mantis was spared this—so egging the guy on was a bad idea. Behind him, Hano’s breathing was erratic and she was somehow whimpering at the same time violent gasps shook her lungs.

Clumsily, he fumbled out a hand and scrambled to find her. When he made contact, he dropped his arm on what he thought was her shoulder. He couldn't move his neck to see her yet.

“Breath,” he forced through his teeth as his tongue fought him.

The guard studied him coldly. Dude was way too smug for this little power trip. Had to be someone hoping for promotions and always being denied. Asshole.

Peter glared half-heartedly. Don’t invite more electricity, Petey. A voice suspiciously like Kragglin cautioned his brain.

“You’re g-gonna…kill her…if you k-keep…goin’,” he panted. They had to want them alive if they bothered capturing them, right?

“Tt,” the guard clicked his tongue before walking away in disgust. As if he wasn’t the one causing and enjoying this, the sick fu–

“I’m,” Hano coughed and slapped at Peter's arm weakly. “I’m g-good.” He felt a residual shiver run through her. “Y-you?”

“P-peach-y,” he grunted.

They both lay there panting and not daring to move for a while longer. Eventually, Peter worked up the strength to turn his head and look at Hano and Mantis. His sister was still asleep, her antenna sporadically lighting up. She was quiet so he hoped it was restful. Hano was sprawled on her back, Mantis’s right hand still in her left. Hano’s eyes found Peter’s and reflected his own convulsive fatigue.

“What’s this…about a tea cup?’ he whispered as quietly as possible in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Hano reciprocated and smiled slightly, “Threw my tea cup at him when a squad attacked me an’ Loki…It broke on his head.” She tried to shrug, but her shoulders didn’t smoothly cooperate. “He was grabbing for one of Xheehmo’s grandsons…Pretty sure he traded shifts with another guard to be here.” Her expression turned sour, “We…talked a bit before you woke up. They definitely still want us alive so keep reminding him of that.”

“Good job,” Peter patted her shoulder heavily. Still working on regaining full motor control too then. “Did they get any of the others?” Remembering what the guard had said, he added, “Who stopped them from killing everyone?”

“I haven’t seen anyone else,” Hano shook her head. “I think he would’ve said if they killed any of your team.”

“Bragging rights,” Peter breathily agreed.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

He wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t answer yet, but his brain was too tired to do more than play along.

“Some guy got on the ship and I let him think he snuck up on me while I was sleeping. As if,” he scoffed as confidently as his sore throat and barely functioning lungs would let him. “Drax and I handled him, no sweat.” Peter ignored the bruising covering his back from when said intruder had slammed him into the wall repeatedly. “Tried to comm to check in, but no one picked up. Before we could leave, some Kree Purist dude showed up talking about how we’re the scum of the galaxy for saving Xandar. Yada yada yada.”

Peter paused to reconsider what he was about to say. Should he tell Hano about this? Would she know anything? Would it make her panic? He was second best at calming civilians–Mantis was best, but she kind of cheated, and Drax was best if children were involved–and he wasn’t sure if he could manage it right now. His brain was more mush than when he first woke up.

“Weird thing is,” he decided to just tell her, “he was wearing the same getup as the other guy, but the first guy definitely wasn’t Kree or Sakaaran. Anyway, we took care of him too. I tried to call the team again and Drax raced off into town. I followed, there were screams, then a…building?…exploded and I woke up here. What’d I miss?”

‘Why are you here?’ went unsaid, but understood between them.

“Loki joined me to watch the sunrise,” Hano began slowly. She was obviously delaying telling him something.

“Don’t know how you can stand gettin’ up that early.” Peter grumbled good-naturedly. Keep the civilian calm.

Hano huffed and gave him a small smile. “And we got attacked by a squad of, I think, just Kree Purists. They were chasin’ Xlihall, one of Xheehmo’s grandsons, like I said.” Hano struggled to push herself up on her elbows. “He said his dad—they’d both seen them land outside town—had gone to warn town and he’d warned Xheehmo and your teammates at my house. He said they evacuated.”

“They wouldn’t leave. They’d defend the town.” Peter insisted, sitting up as quickly as he could. He couldn’t help interrupting. His team, his family, would never leave innocent people to fend for themselves. Not anymore. They’d grown with and changed each other together for the better.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what they did,” Hano shook her head in apology. “That’s what he said Xheehmo was going to do. She would’ve needed help moving patients. I never saw them. I don’t know how Mantis got here.” Hano slumped against the wall, too tired to move further, Mantis behind her.

His sister still had Hano’s hand in a vice grip.

“And Loki?” Peter pulled his knees up so he could lean on his legs and not the wall.

“We were trying to figure out how to hide the Kïrkdhish, if they didn’t already have it–”

“Shit, do they?!”

“Terrans are as dumb as they say,” a cruel voice chuckled from beyond the purple forcefield. A tall, broad-shouldered Kree stood watching them from the corner farthest away. His lilac eyes were predatory as he studied Peter, then leered at Mantis and Hano.

Peter wished he could move better and cover the women from view.

“Yeah, well it takes one to know one!” Peter opted to draw attention instead. He’d talked his way out of plenty of jams.

“Vokk-Ty, I presume?” Hano said haughtily. Her posture had straightened and she raised her chin just like Ayesha and her subjects on Sovereign. What the hell was she thinking?

“You surrendered yourself and I honored my oath to leave the planet’s inhabitants as they were then.” The Kree grinned triumphantly.

“Your men attempted to break it knowing full well the oath you’d made. You should reevaluate their integrity. The folly of pride would have besmirched your ancestors’ honor.”

Peter suddenly realized his translator chip was only interpreting Kree. How did she speak Kree fluently too? And why was she being so formal?

“Sounds like you're losin’ your command,” Peter whistled. “Want some advice? One captain to another.” He gave his best roguish smirk.

“You should worry more about yourself, Peter Quill.” The Kree turned his glare on him. “You and your sister only live as long as Hannah Mercer is alive. You Terrans are fragile creatures,” Vokk-Ty studied Hano contemplatively, “and she’ll try any manner of death to escape, of that we’ve been assured.”

Hano glowered and her jaw tensed, but she bit her tongue

“If she dies,” Vokk-Ty continued with a saccharine grin to Peter, “you will suffer a very slow and painful death. I’ll let you watch your sister die first, save her the pain of witnessing her brother’s weakness.”

“It’s Star-lord and none of us are dying here. I’ll kill you and anyone else who tries!”

Peter’s reaction seemed to be just what the Kree was looking for. He smiled maliciously.

“I am ensuring you and the Kïrkdhish,” he looked meaningfully at Hano, “know the consequences should she succeed.”

Hano’s face went blank.

Peter mentally mapped out the conversation. Hano was the Kïrkdhish. Or the Kree Purist thought she was, but she’d said it was the stone staff thing. Loki and Mantis both said she hadn’t lied. Maybe Hano was the DNA key to the weapon. A descendant of the bloodline or something crazy? Captain jerk-face was also implying she was Terran and had a different name. Seemed like it anyway. She spoke way too many languages fluently to have lived her whole life on Feevus V. Was she an abducted kid? Did her “parents” take her to Feevus to watch over the weapon’s hiding place as some chosen guardian or some dramatic shit?

What the hell had Nove Prime sent them into? They never should’ve accepted this d’ast mission

“These two Guardians were aboard before you turned yourself over.” Vokk-Ty continued smugly. Was he seriously circling back to how he kept his word?

“Sis-Rancis intended to kill the hostage Goshtans in the square and make me watch. I had already capitulated and he held my neck within his hand. He demanded recompense for a prior loss in combat he perceived as a slight. Your people did little more than inform him of your oath and request his compliance. He was violently disinclined. I had to stop him myself to prevent deaths.” Hano’s voice was cold and her face was blank.

Vokk-Ty’s face darkened. Obviously, no one had told the guy his ancestors’ honor was endangered.

“Clever words,” a female Kree purred as she sauntered towards the barrier. She was carefully wiping something long on her sleeve.

“Ti-Shak, what are you–?” Vokk-Ty began irate.

In a beautifully fluid motion, reminiscent of Gamora, Ti-Shak embedded a dagger in Vokk-Ty’s head. Her arm returned to her side as graceful as a ballerina. She didn’t change her gait as she continued towards the cell.

“I’m afraid you won’t have time to attempt to drive us apart. The needless will be removed shortly.” She nonchalantly removed the blade from Vokk-Ty’s head and cleaned it on his clothes.

What was happening on this ship?

She looked at the three of them briefly, before taping a comm on her wrist. “Prisoners are secure. Proceeding. Commence operation.” There was no reply as she removed what looked like a detonator from a pocket.

“Now, hold on, lady!” Peter put his hands up, “There’s no need to blow us all up. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.”

She smiled toothily, her finger hovered over the button.

Suddenly, Hano gasped like someone had punched all the air from her lungs. She curled inwards and released Mantis’s hand to clutch both hands over her own heart. Peter looked from Hano to the Kree femme fatale.

“What the hell did you do to her?” he demanded. He moved to comfort Hano, but she shrunk away from him.

“I haven’t done anything yet,” Ti-Shak blinked innocently as her blue thumb wiggled over her unpressed detonator button.

“What did the person you just spoke to do then?” he demanded angrily. Mantis seemed to finally stir awake as his voice rose in volume. If it wasn’t for her personal forcefield, the emotions radiating off him would have woken her far earlier.

“Nothing was done to her directly, but her reaction certainly proves her identity. The Master will be very pleased.”

“What do you want?” He did not like the sound of anyone who went by “Master”.

Hano sucked in a breath and uncurled slightly. Mantis was sitting up now and shakily reached for the girl.

“She deserves to suffer.” A feral glint entered Ti-Shak’s eyes.

“Leave her alone!” he roared, crowding the forcefield in a sad attempt to intimidate her, as if he could physically stop her.

Then she depressed the button.

Peter almost flinched.

Nothing happened.

Hano’s breathing calmed slowly and Ti-Shak studied her with a single minded focus.

“Can you feel it, Mystræa?” The Kree spat the last word out as if it pained her to call Hano by it.

Hano stilled.

“Does the mystraal scream at you?”

“Hey!” Peter yelled. “I don’t know what your problem is, but–”

“Silence. Terran.” A remote suddenly replaced the detonator in her hand and electricity was arcing through his body. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Peter!” Mantis cried in alarm.

“Answer me, Wanderer.” Ti-Shak snarled at Hano as the current in Peter’s body stopped.

“You blew up the other ships and people on this one are dying slowly.” Hano’s voice was quiet. Her eyes were fixed to the floor and her hands still pressed to her chest.

“It doesn’t even compare to the pain you caused when you destroyed Koluf, killing everyone on it.”

“I didn’t know the radius!” Hano screamed instinctively, her voice almost pleading.

“You murdered your fellow Mystræa!”

“I never–” Hano begged.

“You stole our gifts and memories so you could have all the mystraal to yourself. You only wanted power.” Ti-Shak scornfully cut Hano off.

“What?” Hano looked confused.

“You stole our mystraal so that we forgot who we were and what we are meant to be. You took our very lives and now you claim innocence? You’ve wasted your stolen power and we’ll take it back.” Ti-Shak’s eyes glowed with righteous anger. “We will reclaim our rightful place in the universe and you will answer for your crimes.”

“You used the weapon that killed all life on Feevus V?” Mantis stared at Hano in shock. Peter felt he matched his sister perfectly as she propped him up.

Hano’s mouth formed silent words and her eyes were anguished. Finally she managed, “It-it was an accident. I didn’t mean–”

“She wanted to be the last Mystræa.” Ti-Shak cooly stated. “She is the Kïrkdhish. After all, she created it and used it.”

“No–” Hano denied in horror.

“Your husband told us what you did. He recognized us, gathered us together, told us we are Mystræa. He recognized you on the report from Terra and knew you’d be looking for your precious weapon.” Ti-Shak’s tone turned jealous, “He’s missed you, despite all you’ve done. You don’t deserve his love.”

“I don’t have a husband and you're not Mystræa.” Hano looked frustrated. “Whoever this man is, he lied to you."

“You lie.” Ti-Shak clicked the remote.

Hano and Peter both fell to the electricity.

“Their comfort relies on your behavior and their lives rely on your life.”

The current started again. Longer this time. Gruelingly long. However, this time, Peter felt something comforting flowing from his sister's hands as she held him. When it finally stopped, Ti-Shak was gone and the cell was silent.

Chapter Text

Nebula studied the blue, green, and purple spec growing in the viewport as she and Kraglin piloted the Quadrant closer to Feevus V. Nova Prime had sent vague details about some sensitive mission requiring the Guardians visit the isolated planet and Drax had forwarded far more information than he was probably supposed to disclose (most of it more than likely incorrect) once the Guardians landed planetside.

“You reckin’ they’s down there?” Kraglin gulped. He was suddenly unmoving after fidgeting the entire trip.

“Any response on the comm?” Nebula ignored his question. They needed to be focused on gathering information, not pondering possibilities.

“None yet, no.” He deflated.

Although quiet, Kraglin was one of the most anxious people Nebula had ever met. The gangly Xandarian broadcast everything he felt. In her darker moments, she debated whether Quill’s adoptive father had been either suicidal or fatalistic when allowing his first mate to start a mutiny. Maybe he hoped being the inciting party would spare his second son.

“We’ll see what the locals have to say.” She maneuvered the Quadrant towards the location of Feevus V’s capitol “city”.

The planet lacked any outbound signal for the ship to pick up as it neared the atmosphere. It was therefore possible an astronomical event had caused a communications failure. It was also possible the communications array had been damaged purposefully. The silence could be due to the inability of the dead to speak.

“Initiatin’ scan,” Kraglin announced. He squinted and hummed as he read the results. “Benatar’s just outside-a Goshta like theys reported. Ain’t on no pad though. Looks like a quick drop. There’s building damage from fightin’; seems pretty recent.”

“Signs of survivors?” Nebula kept her voice calm.

Gamora had contacted her just before leaving Xandar and was in good health. She would not be easily contained nor defeated. The others’ fates were less certain. However, Groot was hardy, Rocket had a knack for escapes, Drax was an unsquashable bug, Quill survived against odds regularly, and Mantis was underestimated in durability. The Benatar was intact. Loki would’ve kept the others just as intact with his green magic.

“Not much movement in town. Maybe a handful?” Kraglin’s eyes followed the readout. “Don’t know where they coulda evacuated to. There’s nothin’ fer miles.”

The Quadrant landed close to, but outside the potential blast radius of, the Benatar. It wasn’t equipped with cloaking technology so Nebula didn’t attempt stealth. Anyone nearby would have already seen the ship enter the atmosphere.

“Stay on the bridge in case we need a quick evac. I’ll comm you the situation when I’ve made contact.” Nebula stood and made her way to the bridge door. She glanced back for a response before exiting.

“Aye, aye.” Kraglin saluted with his fist on his chest. He always seemed to default to Ravager hierarchical norms when stressed. Nebula couldn’t judge; habits die hard.

She grabbed an extra blaster on her way to the ramp. The arm Rocket gifted her may be a weapon, but she wanted people to know she was armed without flaunting it. Potential threats tended to reveal who people really were beyond society. Just look at Thanos once he realized his defeat was at hand.

Nebula smirked at the memory and reminded herself he was well and truly gone. She and Gamora had seen to it personally. There had been no mistakes.

Speaking of her sister, Gamora stood waiting for her as the ramp unfolded.

“Sister,” Gamora grunted and jerked her chin upwards.

Nebula returned the grunt and gesture. “Nova Prime sent us as backup when you missed your second day report.”

“I wasn’t aware we promised Nova Prime a second day report.” The left corner of Gamora’s mouth twitched. “I apologize for missing our call.” She’d seen through Nebula’s lie, but wouldn’t directly call her on it. Gamora’s face turned serious, “Did you see any signs of ships on your approach?”

“There were no signals or trails from the planet. What happened?”

“Kree Purists attacked. No deaths. The grievously injured should pull through with the Quadrant’s medical supplies and med bay on hand.”

As Gamora spoke an Aakon approached the two women curiously. When he looked between the two, Gamora pulled Nebula into her side with an arm around her shoulders. The Aakon furrowed his E4D00A [citrine] hairless brow then nodded. “Friend,” he said in butchered Xandarian.

“Friend,” Gamora agreed with an exaggerated smile and nod. Releasing Nebula, she motioned to the ship and enunciated carefully, “Friend. Medicine.”

The Aakon nodded and shouted into the trees, “She says they are friends! They brought medicine for the wounded.”

Nebula would have done a double-take, if she had it in her. “Why is he speaking a dead language?” she asked Gamora.

“You can understand him?” Gamora did do a double-take. Her sister was far more expressive now that she spent so much time with Quill.

“I haven’t heard it spoken aloud, but I know the language. There is some dialect difference.” Nebula sidestepped as she listened to the Aakon and a Krylorian woman with FF5CCD [light deep pink] skin discuss what medicine might be aboard the Quadrant. Gamora’s face softened disgustingly, no doubt catching onto why Nebula would know a language she’d never heard.

Thanos had taken advantage of the computer he’d placed in Nebula’s head and forced her to download languages to help him decipher ancient texts. Gamora may have been the favored child, trusted with knowledge. But Nebula had been his tool to gain knowledge and conveniently wipe of details once used.

“I can give a list. What alphabet do you use?” Nebula told the locals. Her mouth and throat created the sounds her brain knew each syllable should have, but the motions were still foreign to her. Yet another reminder that her body was no longer her own and hadn’t been for a long time.

“You speak Goshanti?” the Aakon asked in joyous surprise.

“A related language,” Nebula scowled neutrally. Thanos’s notes called the language something else entirely. She couldn’t find it in herself to care to call it that. She didn’t want to speak it.

“We use the Xandarian names for medicine since that is where it always comes from. Our healers will know what everything is,” the Aakon rushed to say. “I am Meeruth.”

“I am Katri,” the Krylorian young woman added with a bright smile. “Many blessings, friend.”

“I am Nebula,” she gave in a clipped reply as she tried to remind herself these people had no idea why she would hate knowing their language. Their obvious delight at having a language in common was not meant to rub salt in an old wound they knew nothing about. Her past self wouldn’t have cared and instead blown up in their faces.

“Kraglin,” Nebula turned on her comm and away from the curious faces. “Print a list of the medical supplies in Xandarian and offload,” she looked to Gamora for verification, “all of them to the people waiting at the bottom of the ramp.”

“Don’t know if’n we should be given’ it all away.” Kraglin hesitated. “What if we need it later?”

Gamora held out her hand and Nebula passed her an extra comm. “We owe them more than this for repayment and we’ve kept enough reserved on the Benatar. Open the medbay to the healers once we return.”

“Good to hear from you, Gamora.” Kraglin’s nod was somehow audible through the comm.

“Katri has gone ahead to tell the others,” Meeruth informed Nebula. “Our healers, Xheehmo and Kel-Thei, will be most grateful.”

“Happy to help,” Nebula disengaged in a deadpan as gently as she could manage, which admittedly wasn’t gentle. She fell in step with her sister as the Zen-Whoberi led her among Goshta’s buildings. “Where are the others?”

“Rocket was healing from a local plant poison when the attack occurred. He is working on repairing the Benatar, but he’s resting by now. Groot is still reforming a few limbs. Loki has been asleep since the attack ended yesterday. He used up most of his strength using magic for the civilian evacuation. Drax and I are fine.” Gamora paused to purse her lips, “We believe Peter and Mantis were taken prisoner.”

Nebula kept silent as her sister glared at the ground.

“No one has seen them since the attack. Peter and Drax were aboard the Benatar together, but got separated while ‘pursuing the cowardly enemy’.” Drax had not noticed Quill’s possible abduction then. “Mantis was with Groot, Rocket, and I. I…,” Gamora looked filled with shame, her eyes searching for something, “lost track of her when we fought off a group attacking the patients we were helping to evacuate.”

“Did the locals see anything?” Nebula asked.

“We haven’t been able to really talk to them.” Gamora shook her head in frustration. “None of our chips know the language and Groot can apparently understand them now, but none of them understand him. The one villager who was acting as a translator was taken for certain. The Goshtans are very upset about it and keep asking we bring her back.”

“Why take the translator if they didn’t take any other locals?” Nebula verified her interface was already uploading knowledge to her sister’s translator chip as conversations in Gothanti took place.

Gamora’s voice dropped to a serious whisper, “Her parents were archaeologists that worked in the ruins. She’s the one who told us where to find the weapon. The Kree purists took both her and it.”

“If they have the weapon and someone who knows about it, why take Quill and Mant?” Nebula cocked her head to the side.

“I do not know,” Gamora seethed and her fists tightened. “Now that you’re here, we can get more information. I think they know more than they’re letting on about everything. I just don’t know what.”

Gamora stopped before a brake of thick leaved Spraalleng trees. Releasing the tension in her shoulders, her sister sidled along a hidden trail to a hollow taken up by a large boulder. Reaching beneath the boulder, Gamora grunted as a mechanism clicked and the boulder swung open like a lid.

“There are tunnels from different points that lead to the mountain,” Gamora waved distantly to the large inselberg looming over the town. She descended a ladder. “Apparently, slavers weren’t uncommon once fear of the plague died down and word of the abandoned colony effort got out. The locals used these to hide from them since the bedrock can’t be penetrated by scanners.”

Nebula studied the encompassing 5C5E60 [dark gray] stone as she followed down the ladder.

Gamora lit a handheld light and pulled a lever to seal the entrance. “The rock looks the same as the ruins where we found the Kïrkdhish. It’s possible the Feevusi empire carved these when quarrying. Hano, the translator and archaeologists’ child, isn’t around to ask though.”

“She’s Xandarian?” Nebula thought back to the Aakons and Krylorians who had been gathering around the Quadrant’s ramp.

“Goshta is more diverse than any of the records indicated. Xandarian, Easik, Aakon, Krylorian, Arcturan” Gamora slowed and looked at Nebula meaningfully, “even Zen-Whoberi and Luphomoid. Probably more.”

“A regular ‘melting pot’.” Nebula remembered Quill using the phrase when describing the “United States” where Missouri was “just a state” as he explained Terran geo-political structures. Stark’s explanations had been far more detailed, but just as flawed.

“That’s what Peter said.” Gamora smiled sadly and gained speed.

When they came upon a large opening, Gamora grabbed Nebula again. Once more, her sister gave an exaggerated smile and slowly dictated, “FrIeNd” to all Goshtans within hearing distance.

Nebula rolled her eyes in annoyance, but didn’t say anything.

“Katri said you speak Goshanti,” a fellow luphomoid said as she cautiously approached. Her skin was more C154C1 [fuchsia] than blue. Nebula wasn’t sure if that was normal or not. Her own species was mostly a mystery to her. Thanos had kept his children’s cultures from them as much as he could.

“A related dialect,” Nebula rasped in response. Gamora tilted her head curiously, but didn’t interrupt.

“Can you ask them to bring Hano Zeth back?” the luphomoid woman nodded to Gamora. “It isn’t safe for her”

“Why not?” Nebula frowned.

“It just isn’t,” the luphomoid shrugged. “Their friends can’t be safe either. The Kree wanted the weapon.” She hurriedly walked away in the most suspicious obviously-trying-not-to-be-suspicious manner possible. The other Goshtans in the area suddenly seemed very focused on their own tasks.

Nebula raised an eyebrow and turned to Gamora, “What was your first clue they knew something?” She made to follow the woman, but Gamora grabbed her shoulder.

Gamora shook her head. “The healers seem the most knowledgeable according to Groot. I’ll take you to them.”

As they made their way through twists and turns, it seemed everyone had somehow already been informed of Nebula’s presence and fluency. No one looked at her in surprise and conversations suddenly cut off as the pair passed. None of the Goshtans outright gawped, but the message was clear: everyone was carefully watching.

The atmosphere set Nebula on edge. She didn’t like not knowing what everyone else seemed to know. She wanted to wrestle one of these annoying locals and compel them to tell her everything. She was not some display or curiosity for gossip and leverage.

Though her mind knew it was stupid, she couldn’t help feeling the threat of a possible bounty or revenge plot. There was too much attention for her brain not to interpret it as malicious; life on Sanctuary II had taught that any attention was a very bad thing.

Gamora led her to one of the few true doors, and not another curtained off threshold, after a maze of passages carefully mapped by Nebula’s enhancements.

The other side of the door hosted a spacious, single room set up for medical work. Cots were stationed at regular intervals and each one was occupied. Rocket was resting on a cot at the far end of the room, while tinkering with yet another weapon invention. Groot was standing guard beside him as a 29A0B1 [teal], elderly Kree studied Rocket’s left arm.

“Hiya Gammie,” Rocket nodded tiredly. “Good to see ya Nebs.” His smile was more of a cringe.

“I am Groot,” Groot greeted far more enthusiastically.

“You overdid it,” Gamora observed as she crossed her arms.

“The ship needs fixin’. Whoever got in the system messed the Benatar up somethin’ good. The faster I fix it, the faster we can launch a rescue.”

“I am Groot,” the flora colossus admonished.

“Then figure it out! Do I gotta do everythin’ around here?” Rocket snapped.

Groot frowned and gave a disapproving noise.

Gamora sighed, “We’re trying to find them. No one saw anything and Nebula says there isn’t a trail.” Nebula could tell her sister was only just holding it together herself. Gamora glanced around with a frown. “Where’s Loki?” She demanded as she motioned toward an abandoned bedroll.

“Ya just missed ‘em. His royal highness woke up and stumbled right out. Doc said somethin’ to ‘em, but not sure what.” Rocket shrugged.

“What did you tell our companion?” Nebula grabbed the administering Kree by his shirt and in turn his attention. She was tired of all this running around. “Where is he?”

Before the healer could answer, Nebula and Gamora’s comms activated.

“Uh, we gotta sorta situation on the bridge. Loki’s calling his brother and talkin’ weird ‘bout Asgardian secrets always comin’ back to haunt ‘em. He locked me out.” Something loudly fell on Kraglin’s end. “I could use some help talkin’ him down. I think he an’ Thor is fightin’ again.”

“Seriously,” Nebula huffed as she realised the healer and immediately stalked back the way they’d come. Gamora quickly followed.

“I am Groot.” Nebula heard him apologize before the door could close behind Gamora.

When they arrived at the bridge door, Kraglin was attempting to override the lock. Given the green glow around it, Nebula was positive the lock wasn’t the issue. Sighing loudly, Nebula turned her arm into a heated blade. Kraglin heeded her warning and cleared a path.

The cut door fell loudly to the floor as Nebula kicked it into the bridge.

“Thor, I don’t have time for your questions. Let Heimdall answer my question.” Loki snapped, completely ignoring her entrance.

“But brother you are injured and asking after children’s tales.” Thor pleaded.

“Trust that I’ve reason to—” Loki’s anger was clearly simmering just below the surface.

“Loki,” Gamora began gently as she stepped out from behind Nebula.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Nebula growled. Her anger was already at the surface. “Quill and Mantis are missing and you decide to lock us out of the ship and have a private family call.”

“What has happened to Peter Quill and the fair maiden, warrior Mantis?” Thor cried in alarm.

Loki shot Nebula a look saying her presence wasn’t welcome and had just slowed the conversation further. “I am trying to get answers to aid in their rescue, but the oafish fool will not stop interrupting with trivial questions.” Loki gestured toward the blond on screen.

Nebula noticed a tired Heimdall next to Thor and an entertained Valkyrie behind them.

“You called to ask Heimdall to search for them,” Gamora relaxed slightly.

“I am afraid, Lady Gamora, that I am unable to search the universe within my sight for them. I cannot manage such a task with unfamiliar beings at this time.”

Gamora wilted, but Nebula was certain she was the only one to notice.

Loki grit his teeth and Nebula wondered if the prince was going to attempt to attack the screen. Maybe his magic could reach his brother and the seer all the way on Terra.

“Find the life-walker, Hano. She was taken with them and her signature should be very unique to one with your gift.”

Thor looked saddened by Loki’s statement, but Heimdall went straight faced.

“There are no life-walkers or Mystræa.”

“What is a Mystræa?”

“I am bound to the throne of Asgard to report whether the Mystræa or life-walkers remain alive.”

“They’re real?” Thor exclaimed quietly. Valkyrie also looked surprised.

Loki’s eyes widened and he hurriedly asked, “Does a life-walker exist?”

“My prince, I cannot say.”

“Loki, he is still recovering—” Thor attempted to cut in.

“Brother, restate the question.” Loki had admitted once that using the term “brother” on Thor was the best way for the prince to bend the Allfather to his whims. It had to be used sparingly so it did not lose its charm, but it was currently a certainty.

Thor paused and guiltily turned to Heimdall. “Does a life-walker exist?”

“Yes, my king. Your brother spoke to one recently.”

“Where is she now?” Gamora demanded.

Rocket and Groot slowly slipped in through the cut doorway. Nebula wasn’t sure if the other two occupants noticed.

“I cannot say.” Heimdall looked at Thor expectantly.

“Where is the life-walker now?” Thor asked quickly.

Heimdall’s FF8503 [amber] eyes glowed and his face pinched in pain and concentration as he searched. Everyone held their breath.

“She is on a ship in Kree space. I am not certain of the destination, but death is following the captors’ path. They are a cult, I believe.” Heimdall’s eyes stopped glowing and he closed them in exhaustion. “I could not look long. I will try again after some rest. I will not be able to create a bridge.”

“We’ll have a ship in two hours.” Rocket slipped off of Groot and ran out the door. “Come on Kraglin!” he yelled from the hall.

“Go with him; make sure he doesn’t overdo it.” Gamora asked Groot gently.

Groot hesitantly looked between the screen and the door. “I am Groot?”

“A life-walker is a being reborn into a new lifeform each time they die. They regain their memory and knowledge when their body is fully matured physically. They are a children’s story used to symbolize the virtue of learning from history and that the cycle of life and death holds many secrets but is not to be feared.” Heimdall’s gravelly voice replied.

“But they are real!” Thor said in confusion.

“They were, but the Mystræa are no more. I do not know how, but during the reign of your great grandfather, they disappeared. The one the prince spoke to is the only one I have ever witnessed. She is the only one my father ever saw as well.”

“They were erased just like Hela. Were they enemies? Is that why the throne required the Protector of the Realms to report their return?” Valkyrie looked angry. “How many soldiers’ deaths were ignored along with their existence?”

Heimdall looked at Thor, but the idiot looked too nervous to ask.

“Just answer her question. The king is right there and not stopping her or making us leave.” Nebula rolled her eyes.

“It’s a magical oath, if he’s bound by the throne.” Thor, the coward, was happy to explain and avoid some uncomfortable truths about his ancestors for awhile longer. “He cannot simply break it.”

Honestly, why was he surprised? Both of his siblings had been huge secrets his father hid. If the royal family wasn't off limits, no one and nothing was. He needed to cut open the wound and flush out the infection before new stitches could be effective. Otherwise New Asgard would rot the same as Asgard apparently had.

Nebula was about to snap that Thor should just tell Heimdall to answer the questions of everyone gathered when Loki spoke.

“You could relieve him of it.” Loki suggested. “You are the Allfather, the throne itself of Asgard. This history of lies and secrets must stop.”

Chapter Text

Following Ti-Shak’s actions, hours passed in silence. Hano curled up into a ball in the corner and did not move or speak for the next few hours. It got so bad the new guard, Kenwan–a young, purple skinned Rajak male–suspended Mantis’s forcefield and demanded she make the Mystræa eat. Hano ate like a robot after Mantis’s order and then returned to catatonia.

Peter tried to ask Mantis what was going on with the apparent Mystræa, but his sister didn’t know anymore than him. Ego had never mentioned Mystræa or mystraal and Mantis had never heard of them the few times she had left their father’s celestial body. Peter didn’t remember hearing anything either while onboard the Eclector.

Kenwan stood nearby the forcefield and regularly glued his eyes to Hano. It was as if he could not believe she was real and actually before him while equal parts bored of her impression of a statue. Peter and Mantis were afterthoughts in comparison and took advantage of the dismissal to check-in with each other.

Mantis had been separated from the others when Kree Purists attacked the patients they were escorting to some kind of community bunker. Mantis didn’t know where the bunker was, since Xheehmo insisted on secrecy, but she was certain most of the villagers would have made it there before the invading forces could have taken the town.

In hushed whispers, Peter had relayed his own capture and recapped what Hano had shared before Mantis awoke. He didn’t like the surprise twist of Hano’s origins, but Mantis seemed unbothered. Maybe if he had gotten all the information at once instead thinking she was Xandarian, then a fellow lost human, and then an immortal macguffin, he would be as calm. Yeah right.

Once Kenwan had disappeared from view and no other guard had taken his place, Peter motioned to Mantis with impatient hand waves. “Get her to talk,” he whisper-shouted with a flail towards Hano. “We need answers.”

“What?” Mantis asked, her brow scrunched in confusion. “That is wrong. She does not want to talk and I should not force her.” She shook her head slowly, tucking her arms around herself. “It could be damaging,” she added quietly.

“She’s the reason we’re here!” Peter interrupted, missing whatever his sister was saying. “Get her out of her head and get her to tell us about this husband we’re going to meet. We need to know what we're walking into here,” he reasoned. “We need to make a plan and we can’t do that without gettin’ a lay of the land,” he hissed.

Mantis looked torn. Peter locked eyes with her and gave his best impression of a principle attempting to persuade a child to snitch on fellow troublemakers. They needed to know. He needed to know.

Eventually, Mantis falteringly touched Hano’s shoulder as her antenna glowed. “Be present,” she said gently.

Hano gasped for breath as her eyes focused on the cell around her.

“It’s about time,” Peter complained to himself. He wasn’t heartless, but he didn’t know how much time they had before Kenwan returned or a different guard arrived. There was no telling how close they were to landing either. He raised his voice, “We need to know what the heck is goin’ on here before we land and meet your husband.”

“I don’t have a husband,” Hano muttered. She curled into herself as if trying to hide from her cellmates. Peter crawled closer to cornered her so she couldn’t avoid them.

“Who is their Master then?” Mantis asked gently.

“I don’t know. Some cult leader with delusions of grandeur and more information than most.” Hano’s haggard face was somehow audible in her tone.

“So you are immortal,” Peter accused without thinking. He tried to turn his tone joking as the words spilled from him, but he didn’t succeed. Yeah, she hadn’t mentioned this and it had put them all in danger apparently, but he did need her to actually tell them some damn answers so he couldn’t afford to be too aggressive.

“I’m not immortal!” Hano denied. “I’m…” she seemed to search for the word, “reincarnated. That’s the word on Earth that’s the closet.”

“Don’t know what that means,” Peter shrugged. It sounded familiar, but he’d learned the hard way that the meaning of a lot of words had changed while he was away from his home planet.

Hano studied them both for a moment. She seemed to be at war with herself. It reminded Peter of when he would ask his mom why his dad wasn’t around. The same fleeting, bittersweet smile and sad eyes. He didn’t think he’d like these answers either.

“Mystræa remember all of our past lives once our brain fully matures. It’s all just prior knowledge. Whether or not it’s actually the same soul is up for debate.” Hano’s tone was that of a patient teacher excited to share her knowledge. “We spent eons philosophizing just that and never came up with a definitive answer. Maybe the mystraal just happens to coalesce into the same being and record the memories it gives us. I don’t know. No one does.”

Her expression fell and tears welled in her eyes as her voice turned with fresh sorrow, “We didn’t even know who the oldest was. All I know is that I remember so many lives. I wasn’t the oldest, but I wasn’t the youngest either.”

“Wasn’t?” Peter prompted after the pause stretched. He sounded like an asshole, but again: Time. Was. Short.

Hano stilled, her eyes lost in nothing. “I’m the last.” Grief wrapped around her words like a boa constrictor and her body trembled.

Peter was going to ask for more, but Mantis put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She shook her head firmly and her eyes were so serious, he didn’t question it. She seemed uncertain about something, but not Hano’s words.

After a moment, Hano continued.

“I woke up on Feevus V a slave.” She delivered the line as a report. “I’d been born and raised one; had accepted my role in life. But when I remembered everything…”

Her tone changed again and she smiled sadly, “I’ve been a slave many lives and I didn’t want to stay.”

“I organized an escape.” Now she sounded nervous, unsure of how something had gone wrong. “I was careful. I only included those who wouldn’t tell our master. I knew the language of our keepers and remembered how to fly a ship. It was so simple and straightforward.”

“But it went wrong,” Hano’s eyes were haunted before she closed them. “Some made it off the planet, but most of us were caught. Torture breaks anyone. Lies or truth, enough pointed the finger at me for planning. They wondered how a slave could read and speak a language they’d never been taught. How I could program the ships or trick the computers.” Her voice trembled in fearful anticipation.

“I thought they’d torture me to death. It would be painful, but not new. And it would have had an end.” Hano said nonplussed.

Peter and Mantis shared a look of horror.

“I was the first Mystræa to wake on Feevus V. At least I think so. None of the others had mentioned their culture or spending time there.” She said it like a kid sharing an interesting fact, but not actually sure if it was true after sharing.

Hano shivered. “The Feevusi were proud, purists. Not unlike the Kree Purists. I was an aberration. An abomination against creation and the universe.” She snarled.

Was she mad at the Feevusi or herself?

Hano’s voice fell to a whisper. “They didn’t let me die. They kept me alive with their magic. I was a demon possessing a formerly loyal subject. I broke.” Shame filled Hano’s voice as her shoulders shook.

“I didn’t stand a chance against the onslaught.” Tears fell from her frozen eyes. She was begging them to understand. “Years of ‘life’ in that hell; death denied. I told them everything. What we were. What we knew. How many of us lived. They hunted us. Figured out how to find us as soon as we woke up.” Hano stopped, gasping for breath. Her eyes were open but distant.

Peter recognized the expression from many survivors. He wanted to tell her to stop, but he was frozen. Mantis another sculpture beside him as they listened to this “confession” and emotional whiplash of a delivery.

“I was a trophy. A broken toy to parade in front of the higher ups as a victory over the demonic enemy. They could claim proprietorship over life itself, if they captured us all.”

Her voice broke and her volume rose in anguish, “I led them to all of us! I spelled destruction for my people!” Her eyes pleaded for their condemnation. When none came, she continued. “And I was too weak to stop them,” she sobbed like an admission of guilt.

Peter wasn’t sure what to do. Mantis reached out for the girl, but the Mystræa shrunk away once more. Hano didn’t seem able to stop the words streaming from her.

“They got complacent,” she said, suddenly sounding excited and tragicomical. “The guards were lax and I slipped out. Right under their noses. I bet the look on their faces was hilarious, but I can’t remember.” She actually laughed.

Then she one-eightied straight back to culpability. “I couldn’t manage to bring anyone with me.”

“I ran and ran,” breathless desperation. “I found a predator and threw myself from the cliff into its maw. It ate me entirely. No evidence for them to determine my time of death. Two to one hundred and sixty-eight years before I’d wake, but they’d have no idea the start. I thought I’d be born somewhere far away. I’d come back with help. I’d set everything right! Save everyone.”

“I thought I’d find help. Maybe the Æsir.” She whispered to herself, her eyes misting with longing, “Mother was so kind. She promised to help in any life and I’d been such a loyal advisor.”

A tight smile graced Hano’s lips and a mirthless laugh escaped. “The universe is a cruel joke.”

Once more, her tone grew conflicted. ”I was the ‘miracle’ child of the two scientists heading the study and torture of my people. I aided them in our endeavor to rid the universe of the demons for years as I grew to maturity. I was the perfect heir to head the project after them. The royal family were so impressed I was betrothed to a branch family member. My parents were so proud. I bet Royalty would have laughed if she’d known I was the one launching into political power while torturing us.” Hano’s brow was furrowed in confusion.

“I was helping to kill us? They were killing them? No, the demons were. The Wanderer was the only one missing. She must’ve [ ]. I must’ve [ ]. We [ ] then she [ ]–” Hano shook her head and clutched her hair so tight her knuckles were white.

Peter’s translator chip struggled to decipher what she was saying. The fragments were all in at least two different languages some of which it didn’t recognize.

They needed to stop. Something was wrong. “Mant–” he started.

Hano sat up straight, completely still.

“Then one day I woke up in the middle of the compound. The prison. At war. Terrified. Betrayed and a betrayer. My only hope was the weapon. I prayed they'd listen to me. That they’d stop. That they’d release my people, even if they kept me.”

Her lips trembled into a sad and tired smile. “Hubris is the weakness of all empires.”

“They refused to budge. I’d killed and possessed their daughter and they wouldn’t hear a word of my pleading. They blew the wall and I accidentally primed the weapon. So many deaths at my hand. I should have thought of another way. I should have found a different path. I just wanted the Mystræa free. I thought they’d be reborn.”

Hano was crying in earnest, tears twin rivers down her blank face.

“I've been alone for so long. They never returned. I killed them. I betrayed and I killed. I murdered my people in a misguided attempt to save them. I should have stayed strong. I should have fought and died to save them.” Hano stared at the empty air as if it held the answers.

She finished with a blank gaze and voice, “My intentions are meaningless. I’m a monster. I deserve the worst the universe can offer.”

No one moved and no one spoke. Peter felt like he had run a marathon and was breathing way too loud for the small cell. Mantis looked gutted. Hano just continued to silently cry with a creepily blank face.

“I–” Mantis gulped. “I did not–”

Peter didn’t know why Mantis sounded like she was trying to apologize.

Hano blinked and went rigid. The tears stopped and her breathing evened out as her expression turned cold.

“I–” Mantis tried again.

“Never make someone present again.” Hano’s voice was frigid.

Mantis paled and her eyes widened.

“I told her to do it,” Peter said dumbly. His brain was still recovering from what he’d just witnessed and he didn’t know what was going on, but that was his sister and he needed to protect her.

Hano stood up and lurched between Peter and Mantis’s makeshift wall. She hurried to the other side of the cell and sat staring at the wall. She didn’t acknowledge her cellmates and seemed to be doing some kind of breathing exercise. Peter distantly wondered if he should give it a shot. His breathing seemed a little fast and shallow, but he wasn’t really aware of his lungs enough to check.

“You’re not Ego.” Mantis said quietly and firmly.

“What?” Peter turned to her in confusion.

“We’re not Ego.” Mantis told him. “I should have told you no.”

While he was reeling from that proverbial slap, Ti-Shak announced her return by electrocuting Peter and Hano once more.

“Come along, Wanderer.” Ti-Shak sing-songed as she sauntered into view. Kenwan was already standing there and given the rajak’s shell shocked expression, Peter wasn’t sure when he’d returned.

Peter was tiredly pushing himself off the floor and Hano was already on her feet.

“My compliments to your pilots, I didn’t even feel the landing.” Hano’s expression was placid.

Mantis was staring at the ground, avoiding looking at anyone. Ti-Shak and Hano seemed to be in some weird staring contest. Peter was certain he didn’t imagine sharing a look of disbelief with Kenwan at the absurdity of the situation.