(A/N: Sorry I had to split this up, but even with editing, it was unbelievably long. I hope you like the dramatic conclusion!)
Peter decided to start his tour of his (maybe) father's home planet at the capital city's Visitors' Center. That should give him some basic information about the city, the planet, the Empire, and the royal family. Maybe there would be cool interactive exhibits he could play with.
"C'mon," he said. "It'll be fun. I'll buy you something at the gift shop."
"On one condition," said Gamora. "We all go together. I fear for our safety if we separate."
"Tromping around a museum all day ain't my idea of fun!" Rocket complained.
"I am Groot!"
"So what if they've got a juice bar? I hate juice!"
"I am Groot!"
"I do not know what he's saying," said Drax, "but I agree with his tone. Stop being stubborn and come with us! They may have model weapons on display."
"Now you're talkin'." The raccoon smiled, showing more teeth than Peter was comfortable with. Always better to have the crazy, trigger-happy guy on your side.
The Visitors' Center didn't have a gift shop, but they had a walk-through history of the planet's civilization, complete with 3D dioramas that actually shot miniature lasers. It showed how Spartax had evolved from a primitive society that waged war on each other with spears and rocks into a highly advanced society that waged war on anyone who crossed them, with blasters and energy weapons.
It was the more recent history that interested Peter. He strolled through a thousand years of warfare until he got to recent history, specifically the ascension of King J'son.
"In his youth," the recorded voice intoned, "Prince J'son traveled the galaxy far and wide, visiting many primitive planets. Most of them were too technologically unsophisticated to make worthwhile allies. His favorite was the world called Terra, or Earth by its inhabitants. Here he lived for almost a year with the Earth woman Meredith, until he received word that his father had been murdered by the traitor Corfla Ka'a."
The hologram that flashed in front of his face bore little resemblance to the Corfla he knew. The features were distorted in a mask of evil, the eyes were burning red, the teeth bared in a fearsome grimace.
"Traitor?!" Peter exclaimed, drawing stares from passersby. "How can they say that about him? This is-this is bull!"
"Keep your voice down!" Gamora hissed at him. "Of course it's not true! They're not going to admit that the being who killed their king had a valid reason for doing so! Notice that there's no mention of genocide or world domination. Reality depends on your point of view."
"It's not right!"
"I think you had better keep that to yourself for now, if you don't want to end up in a cell for the night. They take their history very seriously here."
"Even if it's wrong?"
"That's not how they see it. Now let's move along." She took his arm and propelled him to the next exhibit, which was all about J'son presiding over peace talks with the Kree.
"This is boring," Rocket complained. "Let's go back to the war part. Pzzow! Pzzow!"
"Rocket!"
"Ah, c'mon, Gams! I don't even know why we're here!"
"We are here," she said coolly, "to support Peter in his quest for knowledge about his family and his father. If, indeed, J'son is his father. That has not yet been proven."
"Guy's a stiff. His dad was a genocidal maniac. Let's go back to him. At least genocidal maniacs are interestin'."
"Rocket! Enough!"
"I am Groot!" Groot concurred.
"All right, all right! I'll be good! Oh, hey, what's this here?" His attention was diverted by a glittering bauble in the next case.
Peter went back to the part of the exhibit which talked about King J'son's time on Terra. "No pictures of her," he said, "but my mother's name was Meredith. She didn't have any pictures of him, either. But she said I took after him. It's gotta be." He traced with one finger the outline of the familiar blue-green planet he had once called home. "He doesn't know she's dead . . . I hate to have to break that news to him. I mean, they must have really loved each other, right?"
His only answer was the smash of glass and the blare of an alarm.
"Um, Quill?" Rocket sidled up to him. "Ya think maybe we could end the tour early?"
"What did you do?"
"It was an accident! I swear! I fell against the glass! I wasn't tryin' ta break it open and take the whatever-it-was!"
"I am Groot!"
"I said I'd like to. That wasn't a plan! Let's get outta here!"
Gamora was not pleased. "Can't we take you anywhere without you causing trouble?"
"It wasn't my fault! This guy bumped into me-"
"I am Groot!"
"You saw him, didn't you? Big guy. Big, big guy. Can we start movin' toward the exits now please?"
"Where's Drax?" Gamora asked, looking around for the missing member of their party.
"We'll catch up with 'im later!" Rocket reached up for her hand and tugged in the direction of the nearest exit. "If we don't leave now, those doors will-"
There was a rattle and a clank as the heavy security doors descended into place.
"Oh, crap."
Four armed guards appeared, two at each door. "By the authority of the Royal Guard, I arrest all of you for destruction of public property, attempted theft-"
"I wasn't stealin' anything!" Rocket protested. "It was an accident!"
"Causing a disturbance, assaulting an officer-"
"What? None of us assaulted anyone! What are you talking about?"
A fifth guard hauled Drax, shackled and embarrassed, in front of them.
"I am sorry, friends," Drax said, hanging his head. "I was shoved from behind, and naturally, I shoved back. I may have shoved a little too hard."
"Was it a big guy with a shaved head?" Rocket asked him.
"I did not see him. That is what 'behind' means."
"Look, I can explain all this," Peter began. "I'm possibly a member of the royal family-"
"Possibly?" One of the guards sneered at him.
"The test results aren't in yet! But it's looking good! I'd say there's about a . . . seventy percent chance that I'm the king's long-lost son from Terra."
"Good. Then we'll let him deal with you. And your friends. Will you come quietly, or do we need to put you in restraints?"
"I'm tellin' ya, ya got the wrong guy!"
"Rocket, cool it!" Peter ordered him. "Let me handle this. I'll talk to whoever I need to talk to, and we'll get this straightened out. It's a misunderstanding, that's all. It's just a misunderstanding."
"Why do I have the feeling," said Gamora, "that your talking will just make things worse?"
"Experience?" Rocket quipped.
"I am Groot!"
"I know Spartax still has the death penalty, but not for somethin' like this! We'll be fine!"
"We're gonna die," Rocket moaned, twenty minutes later.
The Guardians had been escorted to a cell remarkably like the one in which they had begun their visit to Spartax. Only this time, no one brought them food or water, and the accommodations had gone significantly downhill. Peter even saw a small animal scurrying across the bare stone floor. He wasn't sure whether it was an Orloni or a rat, but he didn't want to get up close and personal with the thing.
"Why did you do it?" Gamora demanded of Rocket. "Why would you jeopardize our mission here?"
"Whoa, whoa! I didn't do anything! That guy bumped into me!"
"How come none of the rest of us saw this guy you speak of? How do we know he even existed?"
"Ya couldn't miss him! Guy was the size of a light freighter! How couldja not see him?"
"I think the point she's trying to make," said Peter, "is that we only have your word that this guy, however big he was, even existed."
"You callin' me a liar, Quill?"
"No, no! Not exactly. But what proof do you have that this big guy was real?"
"Proof? I'll show ya proof!" Rocket lunged at him. There was a creak of branches, and suddenly Rocket was dangling ten feet in the air. "Hey! Groot! Put me down!"
"I am Groot!"
"You saw him, right? Big guy, came up behind me and shoved me into the glass? You were there, weren't you?"
"I am Groot . . ."
"See? Groot can tell you! We need to find that guy!"
"Okay, let's stick to the facts as we all know them, for now." Peter began pacing around the—let's face it—cell, trying to think, walk, and talk at the same time. "Did you actually steal anything?"
"Define steal."
"Rocket . . ."
"All right, all right! One or two small items may have . . . fallen out, when the glass broke. I picked 'em up. I'll gladly hand 'em over! If they make me."
"Oh, Rocket." Peter sat down and put his head in his hands. "You're gonna get us kicked off this planet!"
"If we're lucky! If His Highness the Great and Mighty King is feeling generous, he might just kick us out and ban us from comin' back! If he's not in a good mood . . . well, you're his kid-"
"Probably his kid."
"Whatever. So he'll go easy on you. The rest of us? We're toast."
"Not necessarily!"
"Thank you for the vote of confidence," Gamora snapped.
"I mean, yeah! I'll make sure he goes easy on you too. Don't worry, guys. I've got a plan."
"What percentage of a plan?"
"Really? This again?"
"How much," Rocket said firmly, "of a plan, do you have?"
"I don't know . . . sixty percent? Maybe sixty-five."
"Not good. You can't get it up to seventy-five, eighty?"
"It's an improvement over twelve percent, isn't it?"
"Not enough of one!"
"Stop this!" Gamora demanded. "This pointless bickering is getting us nowhere!"
"You love the pointless bickering," Peter smirked, "and you know it."
"Do you have any confidence at all in your incomplete plan?"
"Some. I'll work on that. How much longer do you think they're gonna keep us here?"
The cell didn't have a clock, and their personal chronometers had been confiscated, so they had no idea how long it was before two guards finally came and unlocked the cell door. Two more guards, wearing the royal crest, entered the cell, with two more guards similarly attired behind them. In between was a middle-aged man with dark blonde hair and a heroic jawline. This could only be one person.
"Which of you is Peter Quill?" he asked, unnecessarily.
The four other Guardians looked at Peter, who stepped forward. "Your Majesty," he said, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I only wish it were under more favorable circumstances."
The Spartaxian king leaned forward and seized Peter's face in one hand. "I can see her," he said, "in your eyes. Meredith had beautiful eyes."
"I only wish she could be here with me. She . . . she died when I was a child."
"I was not aware of that."
"Well, Earth's so far away, I can't imagine much news gets to you out here."
"No. No, indeed. So." He looked around at the rest of the group. "This is the company you keep? Thieves, assassins . . . criminals?"
"Hey, our records were expunged!" Rocket spoke up furiously. "Nova Corps took care of all that!"
"Rocket!" Peter admonished him. He turned to his maybe-father. "We were bad people. We did bad things. But that's all behind us now. We're heroes now. We saved the galaxy, you know."
"Yes, and how exactly did you manage that? I heard something about holding an Infinity Stone in your hand? Is that true?"
"I did what I had to," Peter said. "I couldn't let the stone touch the ground, or everything would have been destroyed. I did the only thing I could think of."
"And somehow you survived?"
Peter shrugged. "I can't explain it either. Something in my genetic makeup, they told me. I was hoping you could tell me."
"In due time. We have other matters to attend to first. That unpleasant business at the museum, for one."
"I'm tellin' ya, some big guy pushed me!" Rocket insisted. "He came up and just shoved me into the glass! Oh, here, this stuff's yours." The raccoon reached into one of his many pockets and withdrew several small objects, which he handed over to the king. "It fell on the floor, and I just picked it up!"
"This same large man also pushed me!" Drax exclaimed. "I had no choice but to push back, but I am afraid I pushed the wrong person by mistake. I offer my most sincere apologies. I must learn to keep my hands to myself."
"And where is this large person now?"
"That's just it," said Gamora. "No one's seen him except for Rocket. Even Drax admits he didn't actually see the man. I was in a different room when this happened. I didn't see him either."
"Can you describe him?" the king asked Rocket.
"I dunno. Humies look too much alike to me. All I know is, he was huge, and he had a shaved head. I don't know from facial features or nothin'."
"Perhaps your companion saw him."
"Groot? He don't even know male from female! His species recognize one another by smell."
"I am Groot!"
"He says the guy smelled like fuel and cooked meat. If that helps."
"Sounds like someone who stopped into port for a meal. Check the records of all vessels arriving in the last seven days," J'son told one of his guards. "If this large man is on one of them, we'll find him."
"When you say cooked meat," Peter asked Groot, "do you mean like we cook our food?"
"I am Groot!"
"No," Rocket translated. "He says there was open flame involved."
"Only one restaurant in the city cooks their meat over an open flame," one of the guards mused. "We'll ask them if they've seen him." He motioned to his companion, and they departed.
The king looked around at all of them. "I'll accept your explanation," he said, "that it was an accident. For now. And you did return the items that fell out of the case. So you're free to go. I only ask one thing." He turned to Peter. "I would like to see Earth again. And I would like to visit your mother's grave. When you leave, will you bring me with you, to Colorado?"
"Yeah, sure," Peter said.
The two remaining guards unlocked the door and held it open while the Guardians exited gladly. Only when they were some distance away did Peter realize what had happened.
"Colorado?"
"What's wrong?" asked Gamora.
"We never lived in Colorado. It's thousands of miles away. Why would he want me to bring him to Colorado?"
"He's . . . not your father," she said.
"But . . . I was so sure . . . her name was Meredith-"
"Correct me if I'm wrong," Rocket interjected, "but is Meredith a common name on your planet?"
"It's not an uncommon name."
"We're dead!"
"No, we're not! I'm sure he'll understand-"
"Yeah, right! Let's just get back to the ship and get the hell outta here!"
"I am Groot!"
"No, we're not goin' back to the museum! Are you nuts?"
"I am Groot!"
"Listen, we're lucky ta be alive as it is! Let's not push it!"
"I have to tell him," Peter said. "I have to tell him the truth. That I'm not his son."
Rocket turned on him in anxious fury. "Haven't you been listening to a word I'm saying? They are gonna kill us! We need to leave now!"
"I agree with Rocket," Drax chimed in. "I would welcome the fight, except . . . there are too many of them. We wouldn't stand a chance."
"No, I have to tell him. You go if you want, but I'm going to stay and do the right thing. He has to know the truth."
"Even if it gets us all killed?"
"Peter's right," said Gamora. "Let's go back to our quarters, and we'll figure out what to do from there."
"What if he doesn't believe you?"
"Then we wait for the DNA to come back. I don't know how long it'll be, maybe a week or so."
"We can have What's her name send you the results! We can't hang out here for a week! Are you nuts?"
"It's the only way to prove my story! I'll see if I can't get them to speed it up a bit so we're not here any longer than we have to-"
"There you are!"
He turned and saw Captain Victoria hurrying toward him. "Listen," he said, "I have to tell you-"
"I just wanted to let you know that the DNA results should be back in a few hours."
"Wow, that fast?"
"We're very efficient."
"I'll say. Um, about that-"
"You haven't told Father yet, have you?"
"Yeah, kinda. I mean, he kind of knew anyway, but-"
"We won't make the official announcement until the DNA evidence comes back. The people will want proof. But I, for one, will be proud to welcome you to the family. Brother." She smiled at him, and his heart sank.
"Okay, we'll, um, we'll be around. Let me know how it comes out. Sis." As soon as she turned and left, he sprinted down the hall so fast that even Gamora had to run to keep up.
"Just outside 'a Spartaxian airspace, Cap'n," Kraglin announced.
"Hold 'er here. Go down and prepare my M-ship. Then when I'm clear, you turn around and get this ship as far from here 's you can. Wait for my signal before you come back f'r me."
"You're goin' down there alone, Cap'n?"
"Damn right I am. You know what happens if I bring this ship into Spartaxian airspace. The minute they catch sight of us, they'll demand we turn over . . . the guy they want, and I ain't gonna do that. An' you know why."
"Lemme come with ya, then."
"No. I need you here, takin' care o' the ship. If I need help, I'll call. Don't come 'less I call ya. Understand that?"
"Yessir. I'll have yer ship ready in ten minutes."
"Do it right! No shortcuts!"
"Yes-yes, Cap'n! Yes, sir!" Kraglin backed away and then hurried down to the main hangar to get Yondu's ship ready.
"Sir?" One of the newer men spoke up. "Why can't we just bring the ship down to Spartax and land on the planet?"
Yondu looked at him. "Nobody told ya? We don't do business with Spartax, not now, not ever."
"Who's this man they want so bad? You?"
Yondu laughed. "I should be so lucky! Nah, Doc's yer man. Killed th' king o' Spartax, y'know."
The man's eyes went wide. "Doc? But he-he seems so . . ."
"Yeah, I know. See, Spartax decided to expand their empire right through Doc's home world. Didn't care if there was folks livin' on it. Cleansed th' whole place an' moved their people in. Doc kinda took offense at that. When the king o' Spartax was on his operatin' table, he . . . slipped. His conscience wouldn't let 'im let the bastard live. An' that's how Doc became Public Enemy Number One in the Spartax Empire. We so much as go near their planet, they'll board us an' kill 'im. Ain't nothin' I can do 'bout that. So we keep our distance."
"Couldn't we just send him away and take the rest of the ship down? Sir?"
Yondu gave him a look. "An' what happens when they don't believe he ain't on board? They'll shoot us outta the sky! Bunch'a nutters, Spartaxians."
The newbie went pale. "I'll, uh, I'll remember that, sir."
"Ship's all ready, Cap'n," Kraglin's voice sounded over the tannoy.
"That was fast. Y'sure you did ever'thin'?"
"Whole checklist, yessir."
"If I get on board and find you forgot somethin', y'ain't leavin' the ship fer a month, you got me?"
"Yer good, Cap'n."
"Ah hope so." Yondu turned and left the men to their work without another word. The newbie looked as though he was about to ask another question, but the looks on the other men's faces made him think twice. He followed them to the control room and sat in front of a screen that he didn't really understand.
"I wish I was such a badass," he said to no one in particular, "that I only had to kill one guy to have a whole planet mad at me."
"Nobody could ever be that badass," said Horuz. "Doc's one of a kind. Ain't no one else like him, so you treat him with respect."
"You won't believe what they're doin' out there," Rocket said. He was perched on the windowsill, looking out into the courtyard.
"What?" Peter asked.
"Come take a look. They're either gonna have a coronation . . . or a hangin'."
"Maybe both, when I tell them I'm not really their prince."
"Will you stop dwelling on the negative?" Gamora demanded. "The king may be tough, but he's also supposed to be fair. I doubt he'll order your execution just because you're not his son."
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be so sure. Spartaxians don't forgive, and they never forget. Why do you think the Ravagers steer clear of the Empire? Cause even after thirty years, they still have a death sentence out on Doc. I don't wanna have to run scared for the next thirty years."
"Doubt you'll live that long," Rocket muttered.
"That's supposed to reassure me?"
"Nope. Just sayin'."
Peter looked out the window. Sure enough, they were building some sort of platform in the middle of the open space. It could have been a stage. It didn't look too much like a gallows, but it wasn't finished yet, so he couldn't judge.
"Don't worry, Quill," said Drax. "I will not let them execute you."
"Thanks, buddy."
"I will do you the honor of killing you myself. Face to face, one quick thrust. A good clean death."
"No one is dying today!" Gamora insisted.
Peter sat back down. "All I ever wanted," he said, "was to know who my dad was. All the other kids had their dads there with them, and I didn't even know who my dad was. My mom said he'd be back for us, but I waited for years, and he never came. I really wanted King J'son to be my dad."
Gamora looked at him. "He is a tyrant," she said. "A despot who rules his people through fear. You can do so much better."
"Yeah, maybe. But, y'know, the ruler of an empire, not too shabby. And he's more into diplomacy than genocide."
"Don't forget that he still has a death sentence out on your friend."
"Yeah, I know. I'm gonna talk to him about that. I'm sure he can get it overturned or something."
"Peter, the man killed his father. He's not going to just let that go."
"Yeah, but maybe-"
"No. Forget it. You can tell him the truth, and apologize for misleading him, but let it end at that. Don't push your luck, or he will order your execution. And we don't want to lose you."
"Awwww. Thanks, Gam."
Her knife was at his throat. "Do not ever call me that!"
"Okay!" he squeaked. "Sorry!"
A messenger in a uniform with gold braid on it knocked on their door a short time later. "The king will be presenting you to his people shortly. Do you have anything else to wear?" He wrinkled his nose at their filthy, creased working clothes.
Peter shrugged. "Not really."
"I will see about bringing you something suitable shortly," the page said, and he left in a hurry.
"What's wrong with our clothes?" Rocket demanded.
"We haven't, um, washed them in a while," Peter pointed out. "Hopefully they'll take care of that for us."
"I hope they do not expect me to wear a shirt," said Drax.
"Honestly, dude? They probably do. No big deal, right?"
"It is a big deal! Real warriors do not wear shirts! Covering one's upper half is a sign of weakness. I do not wish to be seen as weak."
"I did not know that."
"Few outsiders do. They see us as barbarians. We see warfare as a higher art. We do not wear shirts."
"Yeah, and that's great for your people, but in other parts of the galaxy, it's considered good taste to cover your, um, pecs in polite company. Especially when meeting royalty."
"Groot does not have to wear clothes."
"Groot's a tree!"
"I am Groot?"
"No, no, there's nothing wrong with you being a tree. I just said that you don't have to wear clothes because you're a tree. It wasn't an insult."
"Better not be." Rocket went to put his hand on the butt of his weapon, only to discover that there was no weapon there. "Well, I still got claws and teeth. You watch yourself, Quill."
"Enough!" Gamora stepped between them, arms outstretched. "We are going to meet royalty! We do not act like this! Rocket, put your claws and teeth away. Drax, you will wear a shirt. It takes nothing away from your . . . virility. Quill . . ." At this point, her words failed her. She shook her head. "Just behave yourself."
"I am Groot?"
"You're fine! You're the only one of this group that I trust not to start an interplanetary incident!"
There was a tentative knock on the door. "Is this a bad time?"The page poked his head in.
"No," Peter said. "Just business as usual. Come in."
He entered, followed by what seemed like an army of women, all carrying various items of clothing, which they piled on the furniture. Then they divided into five groups, each swarming around one Guardian and attempting to dress him or her.
One group of determined ladies was winding some gold-colored cloth around Groot's branches. Peter saw this and sniggered.
Rocket glared at him. "What's so funny?"
"It's just . . .there's this song from my planet, that goes 'Tie a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree-'" He looked around at their faces. No one else was laughing, least of all Groot. "Sorry, I . . . It's a Terran thing."
"I am Groot!"
"Sorry! I won't mention it again, okay?"
Everything went dark as someone yanked a blue jacket with gold braid over his head. Spartax had no use for buttons, it seemed. Peter tried to raise his arms but could only manage to flap them at about waist height. "Little tight, isn't it?"
"These are ceremonial costumes," the woman in charge told him. "They're not made for much movement."
"And blue's not really my color. Can't I have red instead? I look good in red."
One of the other women looked shocked. "You can't wear red! Only the king is allowed to wear red!"
"Wow, Valentine's Day must really suck around here."
Blank looks all around.
"Never mind. Another Terran thing. I hope the trousers aren't so . . . form-fitting."
Buttons may not have been a thing, but zippers were. The trousers were black and had gold braid running down the sides. Peter began to feel as if he were in Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. He started to voice this sentiment to the others, realized that there was no way any of them would understand the reference, and closed his mouth again.
Across the room, there was a small scuffle as one of the women attempted to inflict a dress upon Gamora. From the muffled screams, Peter guessed that Gamora was trying to insert the offending dress into the unfortunate servant who had thought it would be a good idea.
"Gamora!" he called out. "Leave her alone! We're meeting royalty. You said so yourself. We have to be on our best behavior."
"And I will be," she countered, "when we meet them. But I will not wear this frilly pastel nightmare!"
"It's, um, the latest fashion among visiting dignitaries-"
"I do not believe that! I have seen what your women wear, and it's nothing like this! Bring me something plain, solid-colored, and without a single frill!"
"But, milady-"
"Better do what she says," Peter advised. "She's killed people for less."
The terrified woman fled in search of something that fit the new guidelines.
"How you doin', Drax? Hope that shirt isn't too tight for you."
Drax was pulling on his collar. "I do not enjoy being restrained around the neck."
"It's only for a little while. You don't get a jacket to go with it?"
"I . . . requested that they leave it off."
"Okay. That's okay. If they let you get away with that, great. Rocket? They find something your size?"
"Don't ask." Rocket was not immediately visible due to the circle of attendants surrounding him. "This is the best ya can do?"
"On such short notice, yes," said the woman who seemed to be in charge of him. "It would take a tailor a week to prepare something . . . more appropriate."
"I feel like an idiot in this thing!"
"Let's see," Peter prompted.
"I don't want you to see it! It's embarrassing!"
"Oh, come on! We won't laugh!"
"You better not." Rocket stepped forward in order to give the others a better look at how he was . . . attired. It was clearly a suit made for a three-year-old. It could not have been more juvenile if it tried.
"That's, um . . . real nice, Rocket."
"Stuff it! I know what you're thinkin'. I do not look precious in this getup!"
"I am Groot!" Groot said, trying to stifle laughter.
"It ain't funny, Groot!"
"We only have to wear it for maybe an hour," Peter pointed out. "Can you put up with looking like that for an hour?"
Rocket pouted. "I guess."
"All right, then. Is everybody ready?"
"This is much better." Gamora emerged in a dress with a straight skirt and no frills whatsoever. "When do we go?"
"When they send for us, I guess. Shouldn't be long."
The army of dressers disappeared, and two royal guards dressed in their finest showed up to escort them to the courtyard. Peter told himself that Rocket was being silly. But if that was so, why did he feel like he was going to his own execution?
The king was already waiting for them on the platform, which had been draped with red and gold bunting and had the symbol of the royal house stamped into it. He looked pleased to see them, which at least was a good sign.
A huge crowd had gathered in the courtyard. There was the whirr of small camera drones flying overhead, and three huge screens projected the stage to those at the edges of the crowd. It felt more like a rock concert than a father welcoming his son home.
Oh, boy. Having to tell him the truth was bad enough. Having to tell him in front of the entire planet . . .
He felt Gamora's hand grip his for just a second, reassuring him that everything would be fine. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.
"Your Majesty," he whispered, trying to keep his voice from being picked up by the microphones, "I need to talk to you in private."
"Now? Can't this wait?"
"No, it really can't. Can you tell everyone to just hold on a few minutes? This is really-"
"THERE HE IS!" Rocket jumped up and pointed into the crowd. "That's the big guy that pushed me!"
"He does look exceedingly large," said Drax.
"I am Groot!"
"No, that's not a Mark Four! That's a Mark Six, and it's . . . aimed . . . right at us . . ."
"Get down!" Peter reached out and shoved the king to the floor just as a massive energy bolt fried the air above them.
"Is this what you wanted to tell me?" J'son asked him.
"No! Forget that now! We've gotta get you out of here!"
"See, now, if you'd 'a let me bring my guns," Rocket insisted, "I coulda taken care of that guy!"
"And any bystander in a half-klick radius," Gamora pointed out.
"I'd 'a warned 'em!"
Suddenly there was a noise that Peter knew all too well. A high-pitched whistle, followed by the hiss of air displacing as an arrow flew through the air and hit its target with a splat. There were murmurs of disgust from the crowd as some of them were sprayed with arterial blood. Then the thump of a very large body hitting the ground.
Peter dared to look up. The crowd had parted around two figures: the dead assassin on the ground, and the live Centaurian standing over him.
"Oh, no."
"Made it jus' in time," Yondu called out. "Don't worry 'bout that fella. Bigger they are, harder they fall."
J'son looked at the carnage in front of him, and then looked at Peter. "I think I'll take you up on your offer to speak in private. I want an explanation for all this. Someone," he called out to his security detail, "dispose of that."
As they started dragging the body away, Captain Victoria came rushing up. "Father! You are all right?"
"A little shaken up, but I'm fine. We need to go inside. Mr. Udonta," he called out.
Yondu cocked his head and put on a puzzled expression.
"Yes, I know who you are. Come with us. I want to know what you're doing here. It seems I owe you-both of you," he added, turning to Peter, "my life. But first, we need to talk, my son."
"That's just it," Peter said. "I'm not-"
"Not related," Victoria finished. "I've just come with the DNA results. Not a match."
"I'm sorry," Peter said. "I wanted to tell you-"
"Let's get inside before any more of them come after me." He turned and headed for the main entrance, the Guardians following in his wake. Victoria and Yondu brought up the rear, the former giving the latter careful looks. Yondu just smiled and kept both his hands in plain view. But of course he didn't control his arrow with his hands.
"All right now," the king began, when they were safely indoors, behind a door marked with the royal crest. Peter was excited to finally see what was behind the secret door, only to find that it was a living room. Private lounge was more like it. Everything was red and gold, plush and expensive-looking. He'd have to keep an eye on Rocket to make sure he didn't make off with the smaller valuables. "What is going on here? Who was that man?"
"Never saw 'im b'fore in m'life," said Yondu.
"I told ya!" Rocket was practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I told ya there was a big guy who pushed me into the glass!"
"We've checked the museum visuals," said Victoria. "He was spotted entering shortly after you did. As for his identity, he's a Sakaaran national who came in on the freighter Princess Maara. We're questioning the other members of the crew to find out if they know who hired him."
"I'm sure," Peter said, with a glance towards Yondu, "that you'll find it's the same person who's hired four other assassins to track me down and kill me."
"Seven," Yondu said.
Peter looked at him in alarm. "Seven? No, I only counted four! Where did the other three come from?"
Yondu shrugged. "Here 'n there. Yer lucky I came to rescue ya."
"Yeah, why did you come here? I didn't tell you where I was going."
"Got a tracker on yer ship."
"What? No! Get it off!"
"Peter," Gamora interrupted, "the man has saved your life seven times. I think you should chop him some slacks."
There was an awkward pause.
"Cut him some slack," Peter corrected her. "It's a Terran expression. I don't want him knowin' every move I make! Even if it saves my life! I left the Ravagers for a reason, you know!"
"If I take it off," Yondu said, "you promise t' check in with me on a reg'lar basis? Once a week, maybe?"
"I think I can do that."
"Okay, then."
"So this man . . . was after you?" King J'son asked him.
"Long story. Anyway, I came here because the last one-at least the last one I knew of-told me to ask my father about why he was hired. I've been looking for my father my whole life, and . . . I thought you were him. I'm sorry that neither of us found what we were looking for. I'm further sorry that I endangered you just by coming here. I'll take my ship and my crew and go now."
"Just a minute." The king turned to the rest of the Guardians. "Would you all mind leaving us alone for a few minutes?"
"Sure, we'll go get the ship ready for take-off," Rocket said. "C'mon, Groot."
"I am Groot?"
"He'll be fine. We'll come back to get 'im in a little while. Let's go."
They filed out one by one, but Yondu stayed where he was. He looked up when he noticed them staring. "What, me too?"
"You and I," Peter said, "are gonna have a long talk when we get out of here. For now, just go help the others. And make sure and take that tracker off wherever you put it!"
"Sure. Sure I will." He was smiling a peculiar smile when he left, and Peter made a mental note to check the whole ship for any devices left behind. After all, Peter hadn't told him not to put another tracker in the place of the first one. Yondu could be sneaky that way.
"Now." J'son leaned forward in his seat. "Let me see those DNA results."
Victoria handed him a small square of plastic. He tapped a button, and a holographic display popped up. "I see. Ah, well. I had such hopes."
"Sir, your real son-or daughter-might still be on Terra. In fact, your Meredith is probably still alive. You should go and find them."
"I should have brought them with me. I promised her I would come back for her."
"There's still time. You asked me to bring you to Colorado to visit her grave. You can see her in person. I'd still be willing to do that for you."
"We will prepare a royal delegation. A mighty fleet of ships-"
"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there," Peter said. "I mean, sir, Earth is kind of a primitive planet. They're not used to having interplanetary monarchs dropping in from half a galaxy away. But one man in a small ship could slip past their defenses and get in and out without any trouble. I assume you have the coordinates?"
"I do, but it's been a long time."
"Just go back to the last place you saw her, and ask around. You'll find her. And maybe the kid too-though he or she won't be a kid anymore. Maybe you'll even have grandchildren."
Victoria looked like she might be trying to stifle a giggle, but when her father turned his gaze on her, she sat up straight and smoothed out her features. "We can prepare a one-man star hopper for your journey. Or would you perhaps need a bigger vessel?"
The monarch appeared to be thinking about it. "Perhaps for this first trip, I should go alone. Once I've found them and reconnected with them, we can talk about what happens next."
"That sounds like a plan," Peter said. "Good luck to you, sir."
"There's something else. You saved my life. Therefore, you're entitled to any request that's in my power to grant. Take some time and think about-"
"I know what I want," Peter said.
King J'son inclined his head and waited.
"I want a pardon for Doctor Corfla Ka'a."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. I can't just forgive regicide."
"Did you ever ask him why he did what he did?"
Victoria looked at him strangely, but the king just nodded. "Go on."
"He was the last survivor of a planet that Spartax conquered. And it wasn't the only one, was it? Corfla saw all these worlds being destroyed, and he wanted to do something about it, but he didn't know what. Then, as if in answer to his prayers, the perpetrator of the genocide of his people turns up on his operating table. He did the only thing his conscience would allow. He told me that he regretted what he'd done, but not why he'd done it."
"So it was an act of revenge."
"It was an act of justice," Peter said. "That's what he told me, anyway. He said all he could think of was making sure that no other system suffered the same fate as his own. That was his one act of defiance, thirty-four years ago, and he's spent every day since saving lives."
"The lives of criminals."
"He's saved my life more than once. He's a good man, who did a bad thing because he felt he had to. He deserves forgiveness."
"Personal forgiveness and official pardon are two different things. I'm afraid I can't just ignore the fact that the man killed our king. That he killed my father."
"At least change that propaganda in the museum timeline. It makes him look like a monster. He's not a monster. He deserves better than that."
The king stood abruptly, uttering a short bark of laughter. "You're something else, Quill. You could ask for anything you wanted-money, jewels, a better ship than that piece of junk you're touring around in-but you ask for a pardon for the man who killed my father. The man must mean a lot to you."
"He's never treated me with anything but kindness and honesty. And though he's lost patients over the years, he's always done everything he could for them. He deserves a second chance."
"You're sure you don't want anything else?"
"No, sir, I don't. I'm sure."
"Very well. I'll have to consult with my advisers, but I'll have an answer for you by the time you're ready to leave."
"Thank you, sir. I guess I'd better get to my ship."
"I'll come and see you in a bit." He stood, and Peter followed suit. "Good luck to you."
"And you too, sir. I hope you find your family. I'm sure they'll be glad to see you again."
"I hope so. Go on, then. Go guard the galaxy."
"I'll show him out, Father." Victoria, who had been silent through the entire exchange, jumped up and took Peter's arm, a bit rougher than he would have liked.
"Can't wait to get rid of me, huh?" Peter quipped.
"I know what you're up to," she hissed as she dragged him across the plaza.
"You do? Mind filling me in? Hey!" he exclaimed as he nearly ran into a light pole.
"You may have my father fooled, but I can see right through you."
"See what? What are you talking about?"
She stopped and faced him directly. "You may have saved the galaxy, but you are no hero. You wouldn't do anything unless there was something in it for you. Why are you really doing this?"
"Doing what? Asking for a pardon? Look, I know he's not innocent, but he had his reasons for doing what he did. He's made up for what he did a thousand times over. It's time for everyone involved to put the whole thing behind them and move forward."
She looked at him dubiously. "And what do you get out of it?"
"I get to do something nice for a friend. It's always a good feeling."
"No one does anything purely for good feelings. Does he owe you money?"
"What? No! Okay, you wanna know the truth?"
"Yes, I do!"
"It's because I can't stand injustice. When someone does something that's not right, I need to stand up and say so. To fight for those who can't fight for themselves."
"If you had been in Ka'a's place, would you have done the same thing he did?"
"I . . . I probably would have tried to talk to him first. To make him see that those beings he got rid of to make room for his own people, were people. If that didn't work . . . I dunno. I guess Corfla thought that he had no other choice. You'd have to talk to him about it."
"That depends on my father's decision."
"Killing would not be my first choice, though. Cause lives matter. Your life, my life, their lives . . . we all matter."
"Strange point of view for a Ravager."
"Ravagers don't kill unless they have to. They don't shy away from it, but they don't mow down everyone in their path on a whim. There are some things even Ravagers won't do. They do have a code."
She nodded. "Honor among thieves. Interesting. And here we are at the hangar. Which docking bay is your ship in?"
"Ninety-seven. This way." They had to walk all the way down, past the top of the line Spartaxian cruisers, past the mid-size boxy ships, past even the ships that looked like they might not have more than a few jumps left in them, all the way to the very last bay in the hangar, where the Milano sat defiantly, its sleek lines standing out in contrast to the big, blocky Spartaxian ships.
Rocket was up on top of the ship, attaching something that looked very big and dangerous. "Oh, hey, Quill!"
"Rocket, what is that?"
"What is what?"
"That big gun you're putting on my ship."
"We got almost nothin' in the way of defense! It stays!"
"No, it doesn't! That's not defense, that's offense! Take it down."
"You got no sense o' self-preservation! They see this baby right here, they'll think twice 'bout messin' with us!"
"No," Peter said firmly. "We'll find another way. Take it down."
"Awright, fine."
"And no mounting it on the underside of the ship, either!"
"How'd you know I was gonna do that?"
"Just a hunch. No big guns, Rocket. I mean it."
The raccoon sighed noisily. "Fine! I'll . . . figure out a way to increase power to the shields or somethin'! No big guns," he muttered as he unscrewed the housing holding the big gun and removed it from the top of the ship.
"He does have a point," Victoria said to Peter. "The best defense is a good offense."
"Yeah, I've heard that before. I just think that if we have massive guns all over our ship, that it looks like we're looking for trouble."
"Don't you have to look for it before you can stop it?"
"Yeah, but-never mind. Thanks for the escort. Um . . . I wish things had been different. I wouldn't have minded being your brother."
"I would," she said.
He looked at her strangely.
"If you were my brother," she explained, "I couldn't do this." And she leaned over and pressed her lips firmly against his.
It was unfortunate that at this very moment, Gamora stepped out of the ship and saw this spectacle. Her mouth tightened and her eyes blazed with fury. If Peter had seen her face, he would have run for cover, but he was a bit busy at the moment. She turned abruptly and went back inside.
Yondu was helping with the pre-flight checks, and also removing the tracker he had placed on the ship. It was actually inside one of the cabinets in the galley, the last place that Peter would look for it. He saw Gamora come back in and asked her, "He back yet?"
She turned on him, and he saw her expression and backed up a step. "Oh, yes," she said, in a voice tight with fury, "he's back. And he's not alone!"
"What's that mean?" He went and looked out the open door and got an eyeful. "Oh. I'll have a word with 'im, darlin', don't you worry."
"I never worry," she said. "And I have my own way of dealing with Mr. Quill." She picked something up and smiled.
The kiss didn't last a terribly long time, but for Peter, it seemed to go on forever. "Yeah," he said when they pulled apart, "I guess I'm glad you're not my sister after all."
"Before you go," she began, and looked at him expectantly.
"Yeah?"
"I need something from you."
"Whatever it is, you can have it."
"Good. I trust you still have the key card I gave you?"
"Yeah, I've got-what? Key card?"
"The one I gave you and told you not to lose? That key card?"
"Key card . . ." He glanced up briefly, as if the answer might be written on the ceiling of the hangar. "Oh, that key card! Yeah, I've got it right-wait a minute . . ." He searched all four pants pockets and came up empty. "Huh. I coulda sworn I had it-lemme check one more-yeah, here it is!" He pulled it out of his right jacket pocket triumphantly. "Here ya go. Thanks for the hospitality. Sorry we couldn't stay longer. Hey, when you find your Terran sibling, gimme a ring, will you? I'd love to meet him or her."
She smiled. "I will remember that. Farewell, Peter Quill of Terra. Follow your star."
"Yeah, thanks."
Rocket poked his head out of the doorway. "Quill, you comin' or what? We gotta get movin' here!"
"Yeah, I'll be right there." As he turned to go, he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. The next instant, the air sizzled with weapons fire that came close enough to his right ear to scorch his hair. He reached out for Victoria. "Vicky, get down!"
"I will not kneel before an enemy!"
"Get inside!" Rocket shouted.
"I am Groot!" There was a creak of branches, and suddenly a huge wooden wall stood between them and the gunman. As he fired another shot, Groot spread himself out as far as he could to protect them.
"Groot, no!" Rocket could only watch as the blast shattered his best friend into splinters. Peter yanked Victoria down next to him and covered her head along with his own.
The next sound they heard was a meaty thunk, followed by a gurgling and then a heavy thud. When Peter dared to look up, the gunman was lying on the floor . . . with the hilt of Gamora's sword protruding from his chest.
He looked back at the ship, and there she stood, a look of grim satisfaction on her face.
"They always travel in pairs," she said.
"Will he be all right?" Victoria asked, looking down at the tiny stick planted in a pot no bigger than a coffee cup.
"Yeah," said Rocket. "As long as a piece 'a him survives, he can regrow. Takes a few weeks before he's at full size."
"Amazing that he grows that fast."
"He loves music," Peter said. "I play some of my favorite tunes for him, to help him grow."
"Thank you for your assistance," Victoria said to Gamora. "I should have known that there would be a second assassin."
"You were . . . otherwise occupied," she replied, turning a withering glare on Peter. He saw that look and slunk away.
Yondu chuckled. "Wha's that sayin' yer people have, 'bout a woman scorned?"
"I didn't scorn her! I just-I . . ."
"Yeah, she might see it dif'rent. I gotta get back t' my ship. You remember t'check in now, y'hear?"
"Yes, sir."
Drax came back from the cockpit. "The ship is ready to depart."
"Farewell, Guardians," Victoria said, giving the group a straight-armed salute.
"Just one minute," came a voice from outside.
Peter stepped out to greet him. "Your Majesty. I thought we said our goodbyes?"
"We did," J'son told him. "I wanted to let you know that though I cannot offer Dr. Ka'a a full pardon, it is in my power to commute the death sentence. If he ever sets foot on Spartax, or any of its territories, he will be arrested and given a fair trial. Is that acceptable to you?"
"That sounds more than fair," Peter admitted.
"Sounds like business as usual," said Yondu. "I'll tell 'im soon's I get back."
"Under the new warrant, your ship will not be boarded and searched," J'son clarified. "Only if he comes to Spartaxian territory will he be arrested."
"If they c'n catch 'im," Yondu said. "Thank ya, sir. Pleasure doin' business with ya." He left the hangar and headed off towards his own ship. After a moment, J'son and Victoria took their leave as well.
"All right, let's take off!" Peter started to head toward his favorite seat, but Gamora blocked his way.
"Not just yet," she said, steering him towards the galley. There were three glasses of white liquid lined up in a row. Peter's stomach dropped down into his boot heels.
"What's this?"
"You didn't think I was going to forget about it, did you? As soon as all three are gone, we can leave."
"Are you serious? All three in a row? I'll puke!"
"Be more careful who you kiss next time," she said darkly. She sat down opposite him, her eyes never leaving his face.
Groaning, Peter sat down and picked up the first glass, wishing she could just stab him instead.
As soon as Yondu was back aboard the Eclector, Kraglin came running up to him. "Cap'n? Y'know that guy you been tryin' ta call fer days?"
"What 'bout him?"
"He's on the line! Right now!"
Yondu smiled broadly, showing all his jagged teeth. "Bout damn time! I'll take it in m' quarters." He leaned close to his first mate. "Do not," he said, "bother me 'less the ship's under attack. You got that?"
"Yessir, Cap'n."
Yondu went to his private quarters and activated the com screen. Ego's avatar was waiting for him. "I been tryin' ta call you fer weeks! Now you call back?"
"I've been busy."
"Doin' what?"
"Preparing. Planning."
"Plannin' t' murder yer son?"
"What are you talking about?" The avatar remained expressionless, but a note of confusion had entered Ego's voice.
"Call off yer assassins. Why d'you wanna kill 'im anyway?"
Ego laughed. "You think I want to kill Peter? I was testing him! Testing his weak spots, finding his vulnerabilities. For instance, I now know that he's vulnerable to poisons. That's something we can work on, when he comes to me."
"He ain't comin' anywhere near ya! I told ya that twenty-six years ago, and I'm tellin'ya now!"
"Peter is a grown man, Yondu. If he wants to come with me, there's nothing you can do about it."
"I'll tell 'im ever'thin'. All the way back to when I first met ya. All those dead kids. He won't wanna go with ya then."
"You think he'll believe you?"
"He knows me! Ah raised the boy since he was a little bugger! He don't know you fr'm a hole in th' wall! Why would he go with you?"
"Because," Ego said, "I'm his father. The father he's been looking for his entire life. He'll come to me."
"Not if he knows the truth. Call off the assassins or I tell 'im all of it."
There was a long, long moment when neither man spoke, each waiting for the other to make the first move.
Finally, Ego said, "Fine. I've learned all I can from them anyway. I'll make sure no further harm comes to him. But you have to keep your end of the bargain."
"What bargain's that?"
"You don't tell him anything. Not any part of it. You let him come to me in his own time. Your part in this is over."
"The hell it is! I ain't gonna let you kill 'im like you killed them others!"
"That won't happen this time. I believe Peter is exactly what I've been waiting for. Once I have him, I won't need any others."
"A'right," Yondu agreed reluctantly. "But I ain't done with you yet. You hurt that boy, so help me, I'm comin' after ya."
Ego's avatar actually smiled. "You do that," he said. "I look forward to it. Goodbye, Yondu." He closed the link without further ado, and Yondu was left staring at a black screen.
Well, that was it. It was done. Yondu knew that he would just have to have faith in the boy he had raised, and trust him to do the right thing.
He called up to Kraglin. "Get us the krutack outta here," he said. "Th' boys deserve some R an' R. Let's head to Contraxia fer a stretch. Oh, an' tell Doc I wanna see 'im." He sat back and smiled. "Got some good news."