Chapter Eleven: Father & Son

"It's time," Captain J-Son declared.

"For what?" the terran asked as she sauntered to his side, wooden planks creaking.

"For me to return home," J-Son answered, turning from the edge of the porch to face the terran, bed covers draped around her shoulders, a cup of hot coffee in her hand. Vapour rose from the coffee, suspended in the air of that cold, winter morning.

The terran's face hung low. Her eye's already welling. "When I woke up, you weren't there" she began. "I thought…" She paused, her voice cracking like fragile glass. "I thought you'd left." She wiped a tear from her eye before it had a chance to roll down her cheek. "Every morning for the past week, I've woken up… terrified that you're gone. Terrified that you left without saying goodbye."

Captain J-Son raised a hand to the terran's face, stroking her cheek. "I know," he confessed. "That's why I've been pretending to be fixing my ship for the past seven days," he admitted with a grin. "It's been fixed since last week. I just couldn't bear to tell you."

She giggled softly. "That's sweet," she said, "but you should have just told me the truth." She raised her hand, joining with J-Son's. "Besides, I kind of figure you'd finished fixing up your ship when you stopped coming back from the barn with oil all over your hands," she explained, brow furrowed like a wisecracking detective who'd just solved the case.

"Did I ever tell you that you're too smart for your own good?"

"Multiple times."

Captain J-Son chuckled. He turned to gaze beyond the horizon, as though he could feel his home planet calling out to him. When he returned his gaze to her, his smile had begun to fade. He stared deeply into her eyes. "These last few days have been some of the most precious in my entire lifespan," he confessed, squeezing her hand, "but, as much as it pains me to say it, it is now time for me to return to my home planet."

Her lips began to quiver. She returned J-Son's tight grip. Had she squeezed any harder, J-Son's fingers would have turned a shade of purple. "Can't you just stay a little longer?" she asked.

"We are at war," he reminded her sternly. "My people need me. My father needs me."

"Your father… the Emperor?" she recalled. "Eson?"

"That's right," J-Son confirmed. "He is my father, and I am his son, and to dishonour him by staying here – on Earth – when there is a war to be fought… that would be a crime beyond forgiveness. I would be betraying not only my father, but my whole family… Not to mention, the people of Spartax, of whom – one day – I will be ruler. What kind of a ruler abandons his people in an hour of such need?" he asked rhetorically.

"Not the kind of ruler you plan on being, I'm betting," the terran presumed.

"I'm afraid you're right," J-Son confirmed. "Not to mention, the Badoon – the vile creatures who shot me down – would no doubt come looking for me were I to simply remain here. I was caught carrying out a reconnaissance mission in their capital city, after all." He noticed the terran's puzzled expression. "My father had dispatched me to discover the location of Emperor Droom's palace. We believe his fall will be the key to defeating the Badoon, and putting an end to this long, dreadful war once and for all."

The terran chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Listen to you," she said, grinning childishly. "You talk about alien planets and space battles as if these though these things are second nature to you."

"Well," J-Son began, "I am a captain."

"Blue Blazes… Just shut up and kiss me," the terran ordered.

J-Son leaned into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around the terran, who clutched onto the bed sheets covering her body. He caressed her chapped lips with his own, stroking her hair as he did so.

As quickly and spontaneously as the kiss had begun, it was over. J-Son leaned back, removing his lips from the terran's whose eyes remained closed, as though she was awaiting more.

The terran opened her eyes, and smiled warmly.

"Before you go," she began, "do you want your gun back? I hid it under the kitchen sink."

"Keep it," he told her. "Consider it a parting gift; something to remember me by."

"A space gun. How romantic," she said sarcastically.

'Speaking of gifts," J-Son said as he reached into a pouch in his flight suit. "This is for you."

He withdrew a small necklace, which he handled with upmost delicacy and care. In the pendant, a pink crystal gleamed, catching the sunlight.

"Now, that's more like it," the terran said, wide-eyed.

Gently, J-Son place the necklace around the terran's neck.

"Do you like it?" he asked her as she gazed into the crystal, smiling. "It belonged to my wife."

This earned a drastic shift in expression from the terran, whose face twisted into a scowl upon hearing J-Son's words. "You're wife?" She crossed her arms which, on Earth, is a universal sign to show displeasure.

Apparently, such was not the case on Spartax, as the warning sign went right over his head.

"Yes," Captain J-Son confirmed. "She was very beautiful, and she gave me a daughter who shares her beauty," he explained, smiling warmly, still oblivious to the terran's frustration.

"A daughter?" she echoed, perplexed. "Are you serious right now, J-Son?"

"What?" he wondered, wide-eyed, like a confused puppy. "Oh, don't be like that. My wife was beautiful, but it was a different kind of beauty. Not like you… You're… fetching."

"Fetching!?I" the terran repeated, appalled. "You know what, on second thought, you go on back to Spartax. I'm not stopping you!" she decided, waving her hand dismissively, only partly joking.

"Wait," J-Son called after the terran, clutching her arm before she had a chance to leave his side. "My wife… She died in childbirth." His expression turned cold as J-Son dug up a past that, as joyous as it had been, was too painful to think about. "For the longest time, I never thought I'd find anyone else – in the whole universe – who could so much as compare to her beauty; who I would come to care for as much as I did for her." J-Son raised a hand, caressed the terran's cheek, who was beginning to submit to his charms. "But everything changed the day I crash landed on your ranch."

The terran shook her head dismissively, but she struggled to contain the smile that grew across her face. "Alright, Romeo, you win," she decided. "Now, tell me about this crystal."

"My people spent decades searching for it," J-Son explained. "It is the only one of its kind. There is no other like it. It was mined from beneath the ground of a world in the farthest reaches of space; an empty world, so far away from anything else in the universe that the lights in the sky are not stars, but individual galaxies."

"Blue Blazes!" the terran exclaimed. "Space jewellery… Okay, that is romantic."

J-Son took her hands. "If you ever feel alone, I want you to promise me that you'll look at that crystal and think of me, and remember when I tell you that you are far from alone in this universe."

"I will," she replied. "I promise."

They kissed again. This time, for far longer. There was no telling how long they could have shared the kiss for, but suddenly, the terran pulled back, a look of horror on her face.

"What the matter?" J-Son asked, alarmed all of a sudden. He noticed her cheeks had puffed up like a puffer fish, as though something had filled her mouth. She covered her mouth with one hand, the other hand clutching her belly, which was grumbling and gargling like a drowning man.

It eventually became clear to young J-Son that the terran was about to vomit.

She soared past him, covering her mouth, her stomach's grumbling growing louder. Behind J-Son, the terran clung to the railings of the porch, over which she allowed herself to retch.

She emptied her stomach in one, long retch, the power of which seemed to leave her breathless. She turned to face J-Son, who wore a look of disgust, but also compassion for his lover. She wiped a trail of sick from her bottom lip, still catching her breath.

"Are you okay?" J-Son asked, the question making him feel about as absurd as she looked, wearing nothing but a bed sheet over her shoulders, which had now been decorated with splashes of hot vomit.

The terran stared at J-Son, breathing heavily, open-jawed, as though she was about to vomit all over again.

Her lips quivered as she pursed her lips, struggling to so much as utter the two simple words that were about to follow.

"I'm pregnant," she uttered before another round of retching began, managing to aim over the railing just in the nick of time.

This time, however, it was J-Son who thought he was going to be sick.


"Did you ever go back?" Peter asked from his seat at the far end of the oak table, his words echoing across the dining hall until they reached his father's ears.

"To Earth? No," Emperor J-Son answered before sipping Krylorian wine from his goblet. He sat no less than twenty feet across from him, at the opposite end of the long, oak table.

Peter sat clothed in much more formal attire than he'd ever been used to. He wore an outfit closely resembling that of his father's: a blood-red robe with a raised collar coloured gold, gold patterns resembling the shape of a flame decorating his cuffs, golden lapels, and a thin gold pattern outlining the entire robe. All that Peter lacked was his father's grey streaks, which he hoped he'd be able to dodge for at least another ten years.

"By the time I'd made it back to Spartax," J-Son continued, "tensions were at an all-time high with the Badoon. Within weeks, a galactic war had broken out. The only times I left Spartax were to fight on the frontlines. Spartax faced some tough times back then. The people experienced famine, droughts – almost as bad as the ones they face now." J-Son took another sip of wine before returning to his meal; F'Saki hide marinated in Aaskavarian wine, with a side of roasted potatoes grown on Spartax. "I had no time to visit old flames," he added as he sliced a potato.

"Old flame!?" Peter echoed in appalment. "That's how you describe my mother?"

"I had a war to fight, Peter," J-Son explained, his hand on his heart. He was speaking as a war-torn veteran, but also as a father. "Your Mother understood that. Why can't you?"

"Because I never got a say in any of this," Peter argued, his voice having risen. He raised his hand, pointing in accusation at his father. "You were long gone before I was even born."

Emperor J-Son leaned back in his chair, surrendering to Peter. "What did you want me to do? Stay on Earth?" he asked in bemusement. "Do you have any idea how much danger I'd have put you and your mother in?" He leaned forward, his facial expressions curtained by shadow. "There was no place on Earth for me," he assured Peter. "Nor for you, it would appear."

"I'm your son. You're my father," Peter reminded J-Son, his gaze fixated on the Emperor. "I shouldn't have had to have been kidnapped to get to meet you."

"Well, you're here now," J-Son replied feebly before sipping more wine. He downed his drink, wiped his mouth. "I found you, brought you home, and here you are. Why isn't that enough for you?"

"Because, I've gone my whole life without even knowing you existed. That this place existed," Peter explained, his voice raging with frustration. He gestured at the enormous room around him, the ceiling rising up a colossal sixty feet. Tapestries decorated the wall around them, shapes and symbols dancing across them depicting battles, coronations and conquests. "If this – all this – really is my birth-right, like you said, why didn't you find me sooner?"

"DON'T YOU THINK I TRIED!?" Emperor J-Son bellowed, the table shaking as he rose to his feet, hands gripping the edges of the table. Even Peter had been taken by surprise, but he refused to avert his gaze form his father, who stared down at him, the regret plain on his face. "I searched the galaxy for you, son. I spent billions of units on bounty hunters and spies trying to track you down." J-Son bowed his head. "In the end, it was down to sheer luck that our paths crossed."

Peter almost felt guilty. He'd had no idea just how passionate J-Son had been in tracking Peter down. "Then I guess my question is: why?" he asked innocently. "Why bring me here?"

J-Son sat back down in his seat and poured more wine from a bottle into his empty goblet. "So that we can eat, of course, and get to know each other… properly," he said, lifting his glass to toast Peter.

"No, not to dinner," Peter replied, waving dismissively, "to Spartax. If my Mom meant so little to you, why take me here? I'm just your bastard son from terra. What makes me so important?"

J-Son sighed. A quiet pause. He gently pushed his plate aside. "Son…" he began softly, "I'm dying."

Peter was awe-struck. He could have sworn he'd felt his heart sink like a capsizing ship. "What?"

"I'm sick," J-Son replied, a pained expression on his face, as though this news was something he'd have hoped to avoid. "My cells are growing out of control and just won't quit. They're spreading throughout my body tissues, killing me from the inside," he explained, the words oozing out of him like blood out of a gushing wound.

"On Earth, we call that cancer," Peter explained, masking grief with wit. His father had only just come into his life. Now, it seemed he would soon be gone just as spontaneously as he'd arrived.

"Well, the cancer is growing," J-Son explained, putting it bluntly. "My scholars tell me I only have a few months."

Peter was silent. For how long, he couldn't have been sure. "Cancer was what killed Mom too," he finally said, his thoughts recalling the night his Mother passed. "It was… tough," he described, to put it mildly.

The hall fell silent.

Even the rioters outside the palace walls seemed to have ceased their cries and heckles.

Peter noticed his father's eyes widen with grief. "Your mother? She died?" he asked.

Peter was taken aback. He faltered. "I-I'm sorry," he apologised with a stutter. "I thought you knew-"

"I was not aware…" J-Son interrupted, mouth drooping. "I always assumed- When did it happen?"

"When I was eight," Peter answered. "She died the night I left Earth."

"Did it happen… peacefully?"

"She died quickly. Painlessly," Peter answered. Such had been far from the case with his mother, whom had suffered for months before her inevitable loss in her battle against cancer. However, for reasons he couldn't explain, Peter found himself compelled to lie to his father; to make this bad news easier to digest any way he could.

He could not have possibly pinpointed when it had happened, but at some point, J-Son had earned not only a newfound compassion from his son – but respect, too. "In fact," Peter continued, "she used some of her last breaths to talk about you. That's how much you meant to her."

"Really?" J-Son asked, the curiosity audible in his voice. "What did she say?"

"She called you an 'angel'."

J-Son chuckled softly, as though he were falling in love with the female terran all over again. "She always did have a way with words," he said, recalling the weeks he spent with her. "Well, as on Earth, there is no cure here on Spartax for what's killing me. In a few months, Spartax will be without an Emperor." J-Son's gaze rose to Peter, his brow furrowed. "Unless…"

Peter rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Don't think I don't know where you're going with this."

"Spartax needs a ruler," J-Son explained, his tone becoming grave as he leaned forward. "Someone to get them through these dark and troubling times. I think that person might be you, Peter."

"We already talked about this," Peter reminded him, irritated by his father's endless requests. "I'm afraid I'm still going to have to decline your offer," he declined, feigning regret.

"Son, I don't think you realise the gravity of your current situation," J-Son assured him, fists curling in frustration. He'd worked so hard to bring his son home. He couldn't begin to understand why his son was so insistent on returning to his pathetic life as a washed-up smuggler and swashbuckler. "This isn't an offer," he explained, his tone intensifying, "it's a responsibility, one you've been preparing for your whole life… you just don't know it.

"And whose fault is that?" Peter spat back at J-Son, turning the tables on his father. His frustration was growing, and not only because his robes were beginning to itch.

"Peter, none of us ever asked for any of this," J-Son replied softly, beginning to sound almost reasonable. "I was born into royalty, just like you were. I had no interest in inheriting my father's title, but when he was killed during the Battle of Morag, I knew I owed it to my family – and to the people of Spartax – to continue his legacy," he explained, his words – for the first time- seeming heartfelt and genuine to Peter. "We can't choose these responsibilities any more than we can choose our families; we're just born into them. It's a terrible curse, and the burden of ruling an Empire is not an easy one to bear, but it's a call of duty we have to be willing to answer." He paused, only to realise that his son had no interest in the call of duty. Should he have been surprised? He was talking to an outlaw, after all. "It's also what your mother would have wanted, Peter," he added, certain it would do the trick.

The mention of his mother took Peter by surprise. He considered his next movie carefully, stroking his chin as he did so. His father watched him think, appearing not to blink.

What was Peter to do? There was no way in a million lifetimes that he'd ever so much as consider abandoning his friends.

But… it had been days since his abduction, and there were still no signs of the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Perhaps they had already abandoned him. They were outlaws after all. Perhaps Peter had expected too much from them. Perhaps they had already high-tailed it halfway across the galaxy by now.

Perhaps he meant nothing to them.

He realised he had made a decision. He looked up at his father. "You're no angel. You're the devil. But, this one time, I might be willing to make a deal with you. But if we do this, we do this my way."

J-Son sneered, victorious at last. "Of course, son," he replied sincerely, masking his relief. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Okay, Dad," Peter replied before rising to his feet. "Firstly, when can I take off these stupid robes?

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN.


Another week, another new chapter! Being on holiday, I'm able to get these new chapters written and published much sooner than usual - but I'm back to work soon, so don't get too used to it! ;)

I hope you folks enjoyed this chapter. As always, please leave your thoughts in a REVIEW below.

In the next chapter, we'll be catching up with the Guardians as they make their way to Moord! Should have it published by the end of the week.