Yondu isn't out for long, which is some small comfort. When his eyes finally crawl open, a faint throb still emanating from the back of his head, the suns are only slightly higher than they'd been last he checked. Given that the alleyway is empty of curious onlookers, Yondu imagines he's been unconscious for twenty minutes at most. This area is quiet, but not quiet enough for several dead crooks to go unnoticed for long, and he's always been rather resilient when it comes to injuries that should knock him out completely.
He supposes he can point to the Kree's influence for that; it's the only thing he'll give them the slightest credit for.
Getting to his feet is a chore. His vision sways and rising feels like a battle against gravity, but somehow he manages it. Once he's upright, he's forced to lean against a wall in order to avoid keeling over and allows himself a minute to catch his breath. A hand reaches behind his head to feel for any damage and comes back red with crusted blood, but there's no evidence of bones shifting beneath his touch so he decides to be an optimist for once. He's pretty sure he'd know by now if he were bleeding into his brain. Given that he seems to remember everything – though seeing as Peter is absent, he wishes he didn't – any damage seems to be temporary, and it doesn't take long to spot the rock that incapacitated him still clutched in a dead man's hand. It's dotted with his blood, though when he leans down to pick it up it's softer than he expects. Out of spite he throws it back at his attacker's head, but it bounces away having formed little more than a chip in the skin.
His minute is up. He needs to form a plan for how to get Peter back and fast. Murlainn isn't an idiot – he'll surely know that so long as Yondu breathes, he'll be coming after him – and chances are his ship is already breaching the atmosphere. It would be in Yondu's best interests to follow him before he jumps into another system, so while the prospect of moving so much as a muscle is enough to make him groan, he slams a fist against the wall and forces himself to take a step.
Finding his arrow is his first priority. Yondu can't remember which of the dead men around him were the last to fall, but that hardly matters. All he needs to do is call out, urge the arrow to come to him, and sure enough its red streak flies to his side in an instant. The weapon is covered in blood and gore, but Yondu simply wipes it on his sleeve before tucking it away.
If things go the way he intends, it won't be long before it's bloodied again.
Upon moving towards the clearing Murlainn and his cronies had emerged from, he finds his gaze falling to the first man who grabbed Peter; the man Peter himself had practically shredded with his stolen knife. The man is a hulking mass of sinewy muscles - those of his arm now slashed to ribbons by the look of it - and Yondu barks out a painful laugh as he remembers the boy fighting with more success than any of them could have anticipated. The pride that flows through him is wrong, and even worse, it hurts. The smarter thing for Peter to do would have been run or comply with his attackers in order to not get hurt himself, but he always was a scrappy little thing. In the coming hours, that streak is as likely to kill him as it is to save him, which only adds to the ticking clock now running through Yondu's head.
The bloodied knife lies mere feet from its victim, and though his body groans in protest, Yondu leans down to pick it up. Peter will want it back when this mess is over.
(It's not technically his to reclaim, but Yondu has others. The boy can have it)
Though it seems to take hours to finally drag himself from the alley and into the sunlight, Yondu knows it can only have been minutes. He raises his head to the sky and squints against the foreign light, the pain less intense than he anticipated. It's a hopeful sign that keeps him going, has him placing one foot in front of the other and ignoring the slowly subsiding nausea in his gut. The bay is nearby – it can't have been long since Murlainn reached it himself – and Yondu ignores the stare of any concerned civilian he passes as he staggers towards the endless rows of ships glinting in the sunlight. His own comes into view before long, her insect-like build making her stand out from the rest, but he's barely made a final bid to reach her before another ship catches his eye.
It's another M-ship, though not one of his. The colours are wrong – a harsh red and black that seems out of place in the morning sun – and he's seen one like it before, at one of Stakar's gatherings. He's bid a drunken farewell to Murlainn outside a similar ship at least once, though he doesn't dare hope the man is still on the planet. The M-ship looks barely large enough to comfortably fit three men, let alone the nine who attacked him, but it's a lead nonetheless. His own ship forgotten, Yondu takes a deep breath and wanders towards the darker vessel in the hopes that he can come across as less broken than he feels.
He's barely yards away when a figure standing guard by the ship comes into view. Rage burns through Yondu's veins as he recognises the scout – his red shirt and black eye-patch giving him away as surely as the fear that grips him when he sees Yondu approach. The man barely has time to make a break for his ship before a high whistle sends an arrow through his foot and pins him to the ground. He howls in pain, causing several traders to turn in search of the commotion, but when he reaches for his blaster Yondu simply whistles again and sends the arrow through his wrist, damaging the nerves and causing the gun to drop to the floor. He's mere feet away by this point, and his adversary barely has time to react before Yondu's grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and dragging him into his own ship.
"Nothin' to see here folks!" he announces to the confused onlookers, raising his voice to be heard over the man's protests. "This man helped steal somethin' of mine. I'm plannin' on takin' it back."
That seems to be reason enough for the surrounding traders to consider his actions justified and move on with their lives. The man caught in Yondu's grip slacks at the knowledge that no help is coming, which only makes pulling him into the ship's interior easier. Once they're inside, Yondu throws him to the floor and closes the ramp over, only for another man to leap at him with a strangled roar. A clenched fist barely misses Yondu's face as he whirls round to greet his attacker, and he allows himself a smirk before sending the arrow into the meat of the man's arm then back around to skewer his thigh. The assailant screams as blood pours from his wounds, collapsing beside his companion and looking up at Yondu with wild fury burning in his eyes.
It's safe to assume Murlainn isn't here, but Yondu wanders around the ship to make certain anyway. Sure enough, there's nothing to find. Likely these men had been left behind to stop him going off in search of Peter, not that they've done a particularly good job on that front. When he returns to the main hall of the ship and finds them cowering pathetically on the ground - red blood spilling between their hands as they try to staunch the flow - he realises that despite their incompetence, they may be his best hope right now.
Gods help him.
"Names?" he demands, delighting in their flinch as the arrow comes to rest at his side like a loyal pet. When no answer comes forth, he points towards the eye-patched man and lowers his voice to a hiss. "You. Tell me."
"Chaorach," the man spits out eventually, before a broken sob claims him. "I wasn' one of them what took yer boy, I swear it. I e'en told Murlainn it weren't right bu' he wouldn't-"
"I saw ya scoutin' us earlier so ya can quit the bullshit," Yondu interrupts, and Chaorach obeys with a startled nod. Yondu turns towards the other man, an ugly little thing with beady black eyes and stubble that's struggling to grow. "What's yer name?"
Those black eyes remain fixed on Yondu for a long time without a reply coming forth, but all it takes is for him to purse his lips and the arrow to edge closer to have the man spitting out his answer in his fear. "Sionnach. S'name Murlainn gave me."
"I don' care where ya got it," Yondu says plainly, before settling on one of the pilots' seats to hide the effort it takes to stand. His dizziness is fading, albeit slowly, but it would be best not to give these men a hint that he has a weakness. The arrow would save him from any attacks, but he imagines he'll get what he wants a lot faster if his captives see him as invulnerable.
A silent assessment is enough to determine Chaorach as being the more exploitable of the two. While Sionnach's rage burns in determined black eyes, Chaorach is trembling and pale with tears threatening to fall at any moment. He doesn't want to die – an understandable sentiment – and Yondu imagines that will make him easier to control.
"Tell me what yer doin' here," he demands, trying to sound reasonable despite the rage threatening to explode within him. When Chaorach looks to his friend, seeking guidance he won't receive, Yondu wills the arrow to edge forwards and revels in the flinch that grips his prey. "Hurry now. If yer honest, I migh' even consider lettin' ya both live."
That flicker of hope is all it takes for Chaorach to gulp down his terror and start talking. "Cap'n's been sendin' us to all the outposts in the system lookin' for ya. Has been for the past week. We didn' find nothin' til we got 'ere last night, round the same time 'e was on yer ship. Sionnach heard someone boastin' in a tavern 'bout a warrior who defended 'is kid with an arrow in the middle o' the street, an' we thought it sounded like you so we decided to stay. I didn' know Murlainn would come 'ere as well, I swear it. We was jus' doin' what he told us."
Yondu inwardly curses himself and forces his expression to remain even. He should have known using the arrow in the open risked placing a target on his back, but he'd hoped – perhaps naively – that nobody on the planet would recognise him or care. Had he not performed that little stunt, he and Peter might now have been safely back on the Eclector and Murlainn would have been left to his suspicions without proof.
He can't focus on the what-ifs right now. Getting caught up in the intricacies of his failures won't save the kid from his father.
"Here's what I think happened," Yondu says, his voice surprisingly calm despite his desire to punch a wall. Or a man; either would do. "I reckon ya heard that little story and instantly got in touch with yer boss knowin' full well he'd come down here and stage an ambush. Am I gettin' warm yet?"
"We didn' take the kid," Chaorach reiterates in a sudden panic, raising his hands as if in surrender. The wound in his wrist is still bleeding sluggishly, a red trail flowing to the elbow. "We weren' there-"
"No, you just followed us around so ya could tell Murlainn where he could find us," Yondu hisses, willing the arrow ever closer. It's barely a foot from Chaorach's chest now and the urge to give it that final push threatens to overwhelm him. He could do it. He'd still have Sionnach to toy with if he did, though he can't see the other man co-operating as fully. "I mean, you're completely innocent in all this, ain't ya? Is that what yer tryin' to say? Cause if that's the case, I bet ya were just strollin' round in the sun earlier rather than keepin' an eye out jus' in case ya happened to see me flyin' after yer boss."
"Murlainn told us to stay behind and look out for ya," Sionnach interjects, throwing an impatient glance towards his friend. Well at least someone's blunt enough to give Yondu the truth. "Said we should call 'im the minute we saw ya. He'd have killed us if we refused."
"Yeah well, I'm gonna kill ya if ya piss me off so I guess it's not yer day, is it?" Yondu gloats with a sneer, before turning his attention to the ship's communication systems. The layout of this vessel is similar to his own M-ship. He could probably work out the systems and beg an audience with Murlainn himself here and now, but alerting the man to his continued survival would likely do more harm than good.
A haphazard plan forms in his mind then. He rises only to grab Chaorach's damaged wrist and drag him towards the comms, ignoring his pained screech.
"Ya know how to reach Murlainn on this?" he asks, and Chaorach nods jerkily in response, not trusting himself to speak.
"Good, cause yer gonna get yer act together and call him," Yondu continues, before leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in an attempt to seem uncaring. "Ya haven't seen me. I ain't gone back to my ship; ya don' even think I've left the alley. Yer gonna ask to leave this shithole of a planet and yer gonna ask for the current coordinates of yer ship, assumin' ya don' already have them. Yer gonna say all this casual-like, as if ya don' have an arrow pointed at yer head, or we're gonna have problems. You-"
At this point, he turns to address Sionnach. The man looks like a ghost, leaning against the wall for support as the blood leaves his body, but he at least has the grace to be calm as Yondu points at him. "You, my friend, are gonna stay quiet while all this is goin' on. Ya so much as breathe an' my arrow'll be plantin' itself in yer heart, understood?"
Sionnach doesn't even flinch at this threat, but he nods in agreement. The man seems to be more of a natural Ravager than Chaorach; possessing the ability to respect the man who bests him even when he has a metaphorical gun to his head.
Yondu lets the plan sink in for the two men; lets Chaorach gather himself before clicking several buttons on the console with hands that shake only a little. Yondu disables the camera while his captive works – telling Charoach to say the video-link is broken if Murlainn asks – and they're all set to go until the man stops with his hand hovering over the call button.
"Murlainn," he utters quietly before staring up at Yondu, his remaining eye bright with fear or pain or both. "What're you gonna do to 'im?"
"I'm gonna put an arrow in his head," Yondu replies simply. He cannot lie; the mental image of the man's death is the only thing keeping him on his feet. The news causes Chaorach to deflate – Murlainn may be an asshole but he's managed to inspire loyalty among his men – though ultimately it seems he values his own survival over that of his captain's. Playing on that weakness, Yondu lowers his voice to a hiss as he says his next words. "The only thing stopping me from doin' the same to you will be a pitch-perfect performance, ya understand?"
Chaorach gives a single nod before gathering his breath and hitting the call button. A low tone reverberates throughout the ship as the signal locates Murlainn out in the stars, and it takes a few minutes for the man's gruff voice to come through the speakers.
"Well?" Murlainn asks, his impatience clear. It seems he isn't one for excessive niceties when his own men are involved.
"Yondu ain't gonna show up, I reckon," Chaorach says casually, the lie betrayed only by a small glance towards his captor that Murlainn thankfully cannot see. "His ship's still 'ere an' Sionnach's been keepin' an eye on the alley, but no-one's come out. Looks like he's out of it, or dead even."
There's a pause at that which fills the room with a heavy tension. Yondu looks over to Sionnach only to find a bitter hatred staring back, but it's been a long time since such an expression would frighten him on a healthy man, let alone one suffering from wounds Yondu himself dealt.
Eventually, Murlainn's voice returns, and if Yondu didn't know better he might have described his tone as remorseful.
"That so?" he asks, before descending into silence once more. Chaorach doesn't seem to know if his captain expects an answer and so wisely remains silent. "It's a shame to lose Udonta. If only he weren't so stubborn about the kid, we coulda had a good deal goin'."
It takes all of Yondu's restraint not to laugh. There'll be time to call Murlainn out on his bullshit later, but first he needs to actually find him. As if sensing his impatience, Chaorach clears his throat before continuing with his assigned task.
"Say, we were wonderin' if we could come back to the ship?" he asks, his tone hopeful but not cloyingly so. "Seein' as we have what we came for… I'm assumin' the kid's alright?"
"He's out of it but he'll live. Hell, even if Ego deducts some units for damaged goods, we're still talkin' millions," Murlainn responds, and Yondu can't help but feel slightly lighter at the news that Peter's alive. He hadn't thought to make Chaorach check – hadn't known whether Murlainn would see that as prying and grow suspicious – but he's grateful for the confirmation. It might make the slaughter that's bound to happen later worth it.
There's another pause which makes Yondu almost miss the video call. Using it would reveal his presence and destroy the entire plan, certainly, but it'd be a lot easier to read Murlainn's responses if his face were visible. These pauses could mean any number of things and there's no way at present for Yondu to figure out what the man's thinking. He doubts Murlainn knows he's there, but the paranoia that comes with the thought eats away at him regardless.
It's a relief when the other captain's voice returns, sounding rather disinterested in what his men decide to do.
"Aye, ya can come back," he says, and a faint tapping is heard in the background. "'ere's the coordinates. Don' take too long - I doubt Ego will want to be kept waitin' any longer than he already has."
"Aye Cap'n," Chaorach says, heaving a quiet sigh of relief as the coordinates to their ship comes onscreen. His task is almost done. "We won' be long."
Murlainn cuts the call without another word and the silence that falls upon the ship lends a smothering heaviness that only Chaorach's broken sob can break. The effort it must have taken for him to remain casual during the call seems to have taken its toll. By the time he's pulled himself together enough to face Yondu – face pale and dripping with cool sweat – his body is gripped with a hopelessness that must come from having sentenced your captain to death. It's almost pathetic how Chaorach doesn't seem to have the energy to be angry – all the bitter rage coming instead from his silent companion – and instead he looks up at his tormentor with something that might be hope.
"So," Chaorach utters, his voice soft and breathless. "What happens no-"
He's answered by a whistle that sends the arrow through his remaining eye. His head jerks backwards with the force of it, the harsh crack overshadowed only by Sionnach's anguished cry, and his body slumps in his chair like a puppet with its strings cut.
"He did everythin' you asked!" Sionnach screams, spit leaving his mouth as he scrambles back against the wall in fear. His prior defiance seems to have left him now that more blood has been spilled, but Yondu couldn't care less. Instead, he occupies himself with typing the coordinates into the ship's destination and pushes the dead man aside so he can settle on the pilot's chair.
"Yeah, he did," he says blankly, wondering if it really is such a surprise that his words don't mean shit. These men were walking corpses the minute they decided crossing him and helping steal Peter away was a good idea.
"He weren't lyin' either," Sionnach continues, his chest heaving with a mixture of pain and terror. He really does look like a cornered rat now that Yondu pays attention. Those beady black eyes lose their menace easily when they're filled with desperate tears. "He told everythin' true, he weren't lyin'-"
"I know," Yondu says, silently calling out to his arrow. Obediently, it removes itself from Chaorach's eye-socket before starting a graceful dance in the air. "I believed him."
He almost misses Sionnach's pleading "No, wait!" as he gives off another high whistle. Not that it matters; the man's dead before he can utter another word. Yondu catches the arrow upon its return and closes his eyes at the sudden silence, his heart calming as it always does after a kill and the weight of what he must do next finally sinking in.
To save Peter will likely mean taking down Murlainn's entire crew. He doesn't know how many will stand in his way – there could be ten men or thousands – and though the blow to his head has hardly left him debilitated, it's not going to help his situation either. The moment the crew are alerted to his presence, they'll all be upon him like a plague and they're bound to be on their guard anyway now they finally have Peter in their hands.
There's an easy answer to all of this, and he loathes himself for even thinking of it.
He could give up on Peter. Give him up for lost and leave Murlainn to his riches. He could avoid what may well be a losing fight and fly back to the Eclector alone. The guilt of doing so will consume him for what remains of his life and will have his heart shrivelling more than it already has, but in the end, when one has inadvertently killed twelve children what difference does one more make?
The notion has barely entered his mind when he realises he could never go through with any of it. He promised to keep Peter safe, and though he's done a rather poor job of that so far, he can at least keep the boy alive a little longer. Mowing down Murlainn's crew in the process is a small detail – a minor obstacle put in his way – but it's one that not even a head-wound can stop him from overcoming.
He's let himself care, Yondu realises as the stolen ship takes flight and leaves the outpost behind, and that realisation only serves to add to his list of failures.
He can start making up for them as soon as he has Peter back safe.
A/N - I may have gone overboard with the Gaelic names here, but Tullk in the movies has a very Scottish accent so I'm using that as justification. Chaorach roughly translates to 'sheep' while Sionnach (again roughly) translates to 'fox'. My plan for the latter was to go with the Gaelic for 'rat', but unfortunately it didn't work as well.
Thank you for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. The next one should be up by tomorrow.