Chapter 8
AN: Ok what did everyone think of the last chapter? Was it too little? Too much? Too tedious? Too sappy? Too unrealistic? What is the verdict? Also thank you for the reviews. Also I don't know anything about science, so I'm just going off of stuff I see on TV. Don't rip me apart because I have a bad school system.
Also I know that J'son is not Peter's father in the upcoming movie. I would like everyone to remember I started it before the announcement was made.

J'son gripped his son tighter as the recovered Ravagers led him through the hallways of the ship. Peter has not stirred since they were on the balcony. Even as the angry space pirates pushed and coerced them through the streets, on to their docked vessel and then on to the flag ship itself.

At the very least Peter breathing was even, as through he was simply sleeping. However J'son could feel his son starting to sweat through his clothes. A fever starting to take hold, or simply being overheated due to two if not more layers of leather. He hoped for the latter.

As for the Ravagers he was proud to say they were worse for wear. Several of them had black eyes and bloody lips from there encounter not less then an hour ago. The shock and pain from their weapons still written on there faces. That being said their treatmeant of their prisoners has been less then...cordial.

J'son felt the tip of Kraglin gun nudge him sharply in the shoulder for the seventeenth time exactly. When he and Peter where free of this hell, he will break Kraglin arm with that gun and then some. With the other nine surrounding them, Yondu lead the way as the company continued the long march down the various hallways on their mother ship.

The Spartan strained his senses are he tired to take in account of everything he could about their prison. The docking bay they landed in held about seventy if not more ships, all of them were rather simple compared to ones that he were used to on Spartox. He highly doubted they were going to be fast, therefore their escape needed to stealthily and unnoticed. No guns a blazed as he was used to.

He wasn't able to see the control room where the releases to the doors where kept, but he would figure that part out later. After that they walked approximately 104 steps through the hanger and then up a narrow metal staircase that held 45 steps. They came to a halt in front of two double sliding doors, the entering and exiting was decided by the key pad on the right side. The key which he saw Yondu enter was about five digits long. However the sequences was a mystery to him, as the bearded Ravager intentionally blocked his view.

Now they were 37 steps down the pale red hallway, having passed several doors and off shoot hallways. The crew and prisoners have remained silent since, but he could see the crew sneering at him and his son. They were not headed into something good.

At 58 steps they turned right down a smaller, narrower hallway. J'son almost had to turn sideways to get the unconscious Peter cradled in his arms through. He shake his right arm as gently as he could in order to hike Peter's body up further, so that his upper body was laying further up on J'son shoulder. His son limpness and lack of reaction only caused his worry to increase.

Finally, at 22 steps down the narrow hallway they stopped in front of what he guessed were the doors to their holding cells. The gray and rusting doors were heavily reinforced with tungsten carbide locks and straps. The bolts that held the door to the wall were well over 3 inches thick. Picking the locks or taking apart the hinges were out of the question. Nether was getting blasted out from a third party, whether that be Spartoi military or the guardians.

These doors where design for another purpose then keep them in, but to keep others out. To lock prisoners in and forget about them until they no longer knew what the light of a star looked liked.

The darkness was not the only aspect that tortured the occupant. Heavily enforced with sound proof metal, the only noise you hear was your beating heart. The only sound you hear is the air in your lungs. The only voice you hear is the one in your head.

It was a method of torture the kings before him had used, and he himself on few, but severe cases.

What scared him more then the thought of Peter being one this vaults, was Peter being alone in one these vaults.

There were three doors.

If they were separated, not only would Peter's wound remain unattended, but he would surely go mad. To be so close to son and not be able to ease his pain would be too unbearable for words.

"Shouldn't we search him first," Kraglin interjected.

Besides his rifle which was still somewhere in Tivan's collection, the King was still fully armed, knives, Magnum and all.

"Naw he's not getting out of these cells," Yondu gloated, "these walls are designed to back fire any force from the inside. He'd be signing his death warrant if he tries anything."

"I would try anything, not while Peter is injured," the King finally said breaking his stoic silence as he turned to the captain, disdain but forced submission in his eyes. "He needs your medical bay not your jail."

"I don't care if he is bleeding out," Udonta spat at the father, "open doors one and three."

"If we need to be in those cells then we will be together," the King of Spartox commanded his voice and desperation steadily raising, "open one only."

"You don't make the orders, your highness," Yondu taunted giving to nod for one of the men to continue.

"You want to ransom us, correct?" J'son asked hoping to find a shred of reason in this unreasonable man.

"Or sell you," Udonta added.

"Either way you need us alive," the father whispered, "he needs medical attention, if you will not provide that then I will."

"The boy had worse, he will be fine," informed the man who raised Peter, "give it a day or two and he will shake it off."

The rage that was in J'son stomach sparked and flamed. He knew not what Peter had went through in the past while in these vile creatures presence, but by the gods name, each one will pay.

"And if he doesn't. If he dies. I die," J'son said honestly, "two corpses doesn't fetch for much on the galactic market now does it."

That incentive hit a note somewhere in Yondu. He knew how to do business and the little sacrifices one had to make for a little gain.

"Keep us in the same cell and give me a some medical supplies. And we will cooperate with you and get you the ransom," J'son promised firmly.

The company remained silent as the captain decided the fate of the pair, finally he turned to one of his men.

"Open cell three," the captain said as he conceded to the King's request, "what do you need to fix the boy."

"Well if I can't have access to your medical capsule, a portable scanner will suffice. I will also need bandages. Clean ones if you can manage it.

Since he is half-human, I will need something to fight off infection. I highly doubt you have penicillin or other anti-biotic suitable for him, a bottle of alcohol would need to work for now. Do you by any chance have a cell re generator one board?"

"Do we look like we would have one you Royal Prick?" Kraglin said with a snarl.

"I figured as such," the King groaned, "I believe he has several broken bones. I'm going to need something to set it. In addition I'm going to need some fluids and pain meds."

The Ravagers let out a chorus of laughter.

"No one get pain meds here," the bearded Ravagers snarled.

"We don't need my boys going soft," Yondu taunted as he turned to one of the skinnier Ravager. "Go down to med bay, get the shit he needs and some rations for them. But nothing for pain, do you hear me."

"Yes sir," the henchman answered as he scurried off down the hall.

J'son expected this. He expected this, but it didn't make that fact his son is going to be in pain any better.

A Ravager moved over to the far right door of cell three, entered the seven digit sequence into the key pad and pulled the heavy door open.
Giving one more look around the foreign hallway, the King made his to the entrance of the vault.

The cell was completely dark, not even in the deepest reaches of space will there be this unforgivable blackness. There are always stars to see, but in this case Peter would need to be his star.

"He's going to need light to patch him up," one of the Ravagers said from behind him, "here take this."

The King turned around and saw one of the younger looking Ravagers hand him a gray orb with filigree designs on it. Looking to his captain, he was given a reluctant nod of approval, before dropping it in Peter's lap.

Turning back to their prison the father entered the cell. From the light from the hallway, he could tell it was ten feet in length, and about five feet wide. The floor was plain, solid, gray metal. There was no furniture in. Just an empty box.

Walking to the back he slowly knelt down and extended his arms, gently placing Peter on the ground, leaving his hand to craddle Peter's head. Taking the orb in his other hand, he gave it a sharp jolted as it emitted a soft, but bright light before placing it on the ground behind him.

"Captain, here is the medical stuff," he heard the out-of-breath Ravager say.

"Give it here and get to work. All of you," Youndu bellowed followed by the scampering of the rest of the crew.

Feeling the captain's stare, the King pivoted towards the entrance. The light from the hallway reflected around Youndu's menacing form. His mind vaguely wondered how as a boy Peter held up to this monster. Dangling from his hand was a duffel bag that he presumed held the medical 'stuff' the boy had mention.

"Just because I am giving you this, doesn't mean either of you will get out of here alive," the captain said in a stern voice, "that depends on how much people are willing to pay."

"You will get your units," J'son assured. "Have your messenger contact the Spartoi palace and ask to speak to the King's adviser, Samuel. If he questions your demands, tell him tecum vivere amem, tecum obeam libens. It is simply a code that will let him know I am unharmed and approve the transfer."

Yondu threw the duffle bag into the cell, landing at the King's feet.

"First of all you're going to need to write that down," Yondu replied indifferently. "Secondly I never said I was going to ransom you to your people. How is your relations with the Badoon?"

Although J'son did not have he luxury of showing it, terror gripped his senses. The Badoon were Spatoi sworn enemy. With more then 700 years of war between them, they would bankrupt their economy if it meant getting their hands on the Emperor and his son. If Yondu threats turned into action, and there was no chance of escape, a quick death would be the most merciful thing he could do for his son right now.

"Or I wonder what mood Thanos is in today?," Yondu pondered, "after all Casanova over there turned his daughter against him."

And with his tell tale smile, the captain slammed the door shut.

The King continued to stare at the closed door.

Threats from Yondu Udonta were not to be taken lightly. Either way escape needed to be a priority number two. Rescue he needed to assume would not be a possibility.

Priority number one is Peter.

Taking his jacket that he had placed on Peter, he balled it up and placed it under his head. Placing his hand over Peter's forehead, he not happy to feel his temperature rising. Turning around he placed the light orb closer to the bag and unzipped it. Reaching in J'son took stock of their supplies, pulling the items out one by one.

"Ok so we have, a portable scanner that is older then my father," he mumbled as he examined the object.

It was a metallic but rusting object about the size of his palm. Shaped like an egg, it had a screen for diagnotics on one side and a row of lights on the other side for scanning. Healers used these often in his grandfather's day before they invented medical capsules, that could both diagnosis and heal in one round.

Placing it aside, he pulled out a large roll of clean, white bandages and some medical tape. Followed by a flask of strong smelling alcohol. Tipping the bottle slightly,he took a small sip.

"Hmm, not bad," J'son said aloud, before tipping it back further taking another, larger swig.

Setting it beside the bandages, he removed water in a similar flask. Although it was not the intravenous fluids he had asked for, it would have to do. Finally he pulled out four small green cubes. He hasn't used these since his training in the field when he was a boy. They were compact temporary casts, activated with a drop of water.

No food, or other nourishment. But he made due with less and he was sure Peter has too.

"Mmm," he heard Peter groan from behind him.

"Peter, peter," J'son said, grabbing the orb. He placed it closer to Peter's face, the sweat on his forehead glimmering in the light.

"Peter if you can hear me open your eyes," he continued. J'son saw Peter's eyes move under his closed eyelids, but other than that he did not stir.

Placing his hand on his son's head, the fever making his skin clammy. He gently pried opened his left eye, the skin starting to swell into a bruise. Peter's pupils were expanded, causing no color of his rich brown to be seen. Thankfully through there was no purple. The power may have gone dormant for now, but it was gone.

"Ok let get you fixed up," J'son muttered moving his hands to Peter's neck.

He unzipped his jacket, slowly exposing Peter's charred arm resting on his chest. Taking the portable scanner, J'son flicked it on and a red ray of light emitted at the bottom. Starting from the top his shoulder, he moved it steadily down to the tips of his fingers, hovering about an inch from the damaged skin. J'son could easily tell Peter's shoulder was yanked out of it's socket. He vaguely wondered it was the point of impact for the missile.

The scanner beeped indicating that the scan was complete. Red letters scrolled across the screen...Dislocated scapula, broken humorous, dislocated elbow, fractured radius, fractured ulna, broken wrist, severe muscle strain, third degree bones covering 83.3% of skin.

And that was just his left arm.

He knew this was going to hurt Peter, but those bones needed to be set and put back together. Even through he was still out cold there was a chance it could shock him awake, movement would only damage him further. Taking Peter's right arm from his sleeve, he grabbed the bottle of alcohol and poured a drop on the inside of his elbow. Rubbing in the sterilizer, he couldn't help but notice his pulse pounding faster then it should. Retrieving the syringe from his breast pocket, he took the cap off and squirted some of the liquid from the needle.

"Sorry kid," the father whispered as he jabbed the needle in his arm and pushed the stopper, emptying it about half-way.

He instantly felt Peter relax and lay heavier on the floor. Taking the needle out he, capped it and placed in back in his breast pocket. He may need the rest for later.

Gripping Peter's left bicep and arm, he took a deep breath and yanked his shoulder up and slightly to the right. His shoulder sliding smoothly back into it's socket with a pop. Repeating the process, he rotated Peter's his elbow till that fell back into place. Taking the water, he soaked a piece of gauze it and gently wiped it over his skin. Without a cell re generator to remake the skin, Peter was going to have suffer the agony of burnt skin till there could be a better arrangement.

The gauze was completely red and black by time he was done. But water was the solvent of the Universe, maybe it soothed the wound a little. Taking a quarter of the bandages, he wrapped Peter's arm from wrist to shoulder. Finally he took one of the green cubes and placed it over the wrappings near the top of his shoulder. Carefully pouring a single drop of water on it, he watched with satisfaction as a green form like substance expanded from the small cube. Crawling down and under his arm it, solidified and stopped between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. It solidified making the cast harder then rock, and but protective and gentle on the damaged arm.

With that out of the way he needed to focus on the more vital areas. Placing Peter's arm down he moved his gray shirt up his torso as far as he could with out taking it off. Peter's abdomen was a just mass of bruises, these however looked closer to fist marks instead of missile wounds. J'son himself had his fair share of right hooks in his day, but these looked pretty brutal.

Flipping the scanner on again, he started from Peter's neck down to his the top of his hip, praying there would be no internal bleeding. The scanner beeped with it's completion and the results scrolled through the top...Left true ribs one through four broken, left true ribs five through seven cracked, superficial bruises on 59.8% of skin, laceration requiring treatment near upper spinal column, organs in tacked and healthy.

"All things considered not too bad," J'son mumbled.

He had felt the blood slip around Peter's jacket while he was carrying him, at the time he had thought the liquid was just sweat. Placing his hands under Peter's back he slowly turned him till he was laying on his right side. Sure enough, between his shoulder blades was nothing but torn flesh. The gash was not too deep but it was wide enough, it must of happened as they were thrown through the window.

Pouring some water on it, he began cleaning the painful looking wasn't too concerned about blood loss, the flow had already stopped, but he was concern about Peter's movement causing more damage to it. Dabbing some alcohol on it, he took a piece of gauze and sealed the wound with a some medical tape.

Turning Peter on his back, J'son moved and position himself behind Peter's head. J'son gently lifted Peter's shoulder up so that he was leaning against his chest, head resting on his father's shoulder. Taking the remaining gauze he wrapped Peter's ribs, trying to keep the left side tightly pack to insure his ribs did not cause further damage. Tying on the loose ends together, J'son readjusted Peter's shirt, pulling it down.

For a minute he stay liked that, his son sleeping against him. Leaning his head down, J'son rested his head on Peter head, nestling his nose in his hair.

He still could not believe it.

His son was alive. A little worse for wear, but he was alive none-the-less.

J'son had prayed for this day for so many years. Ever since the day he found out Meredith was expecting he had looked forward to holding his child. He looked forward to so many things. He was give so many things to Peter, including just simply being there. J'son would have done that, wanted so much to just stay, if it wasn't for his father.

Taking his thoughts back to reality, he slowly inched his son back on to the ground. Although he has taken care of the vital areas he needed to make sure that there were no other minor injuries that could turn worse later.

Taking the scanner, he flipped it on and waved it over Peter's leg. His black cargo pants were ripped around his right shin and and a little by his left thigh but he couldn't see any blood around the areas.

Minor bruising on various areas around the left and right legs. Minor sprain on left ankle.

There was nothing he could do about the bruising, and he would wrap the ankle but he would prefer Peter be awake so he gauge how bad it was.

Lastly J'son turned his attention to the gashes on Peter's face. Thankfully most had stopped bleeding, however three still had small pieces of glass lodged it them. Taking his knife, J'son began to carefully maneuver them out of the open wound. Each laceration was no more then an inch long but each but he could tell just by the length of the glass shards he had removed that ran deep. Pouring a drop of alcohol on the wounds, he sealed them a piece of tape.

Taking the scanner one last time he scan Peter's cranial area, thankfully no concussions or brain damages popped up. It somewhat troubled him through, without the obvious problematic concussion, why did Peter loose consciousness on the balcony? Was it trauma of the missile or was the power coursing through his veins?

It will do for now.

Soaking a small piece of bandage he cleaned the dried blood from Peter's. He looked so much like Meredith. Peter had his jaw and his nose, but there were softer like his mother was. The King often thought about what life could have been like if he was allowed to stay on Terra.

What would life have been like if Peter and Meredith made it to Sparta?

What life would have been like if he was able to raise Peter?

Settling down with his back to the wall, J'son moved Peter's head to his lap. Brushing his hair with his fingers, J'son waited for his son to wake up.