Through some fits and starts and a good amount of yelling at one another, Peter and Kraglin accept the fact that they must still pilot the Long Gun together. They even manage to get a groove goin', allowing them to fly rather smoothly as they ascend to the crust of the planet.

"You can't seriously be thinking about finishing this job right now!" Peter says, "The entire Nova Corps knows you're here!"

"Yeah. Stay left up here," Kraglin replies, "But they think I'm after Rael, and she ain't my target. Might even make the whole thing easier. Make sure the scanners 're on, an' we should get comms back in a minute."

Quill flips some switches and adjusts their climb, "Slow down a tiny bit. ...So, you're not after Nova Prime?"

"Nope."

Peter glances at Kraglin expectantly, but the First Mate doesn't say anything.

"Oh, come on!" the boy spouts, "Why won't you tell me who your target is?!"

Kraglin huffs, "It's called plausible deniability, Pete, it's bad enough you know we're on Xandar for a hit. Pay attention to this passage, it gets tight."

The youngest Ravager grimaces, he wants to argue, but he thinks he remembers something like that from his grandpa's cop shows. "What's plausible mean?"

"Oh, ah, well," Kraglin sucks on his teeth as he thinks, "it means believable er technically possible... If you don't know somethin', then you don' know it."

"Guess that makes sense..." Peter mutters, "but, I can't help if I don't know what I don't know. We're starting to get surface readings."

The First Mate snorts, "Yer not s'posed ta be helpin', yer s'posed ta be grounded." They both flinch as the comms burst with static and a number of missed calls light up the displays. "Bollip's here?! Crap! That means we made the news..."

"Heh. Cool."

"No! Not cool! That means they're still lookin' fer us! An' if we c'n read the surface, Nova c'n read us."

Peter's eyes widen, blips begin to appear on the HUD, lots of blips. Lots and lots of blips. Kraglin hasn't noticed, he's reaching for a console that will scramble the ship's signature.

"Kraglin... Kraglin!" Quill nudges the Xandarian with his elbow, "They are definitely reading us."

"Ha... oh, man..." Obfonteri murmurs, almost to himself, "Nova frigate prob'ly picked us up from orbit, dropped a squadron 'a Star Blasters right on us..." Kraglin leans back and grabs one strap of the chair's safety harness. "Raise Bollip, right now. Can you reach the other strap?"

Peter hits the comm, signaling the Ravager Constructions' commander, before releasing the control-stick and reaching behind Kraglin's shoulder to pull out the second safety strap. They just manage to get the harness clicked together when Bollip's oddly shapeless face fills the comm screen.

In a burbling, wheezing language, Bollip tells his superior that he looks like hell.

"Thanks, bud, tell me somethin' I don't know," Kraglin replies with sarcastic cheer.

The Plodex from Sloggo-Prime responds with a gurgling belch and a series of huffs, stating that a second frigate is moving into orbit above them, but the Constructions will be there in eight minutes.

"Eight minutes!" Peter exclaims, "We're gonna be in the middle of a squadron of fighters in one!"

Bollip replies with a sharp, snoring puff and disconnects the call.

"What?!"

"He said, 'No way out but through,' an' he's right," Kraglin nudges Peter's back with his shoulder, getting the boy to look at him, "We been shakin' the cops all day, Pete. Third time's the charm, right? We're almost outta here."

Quill takes a steadying breath and nods, "We're almost outta here."