Several hours later...

"...so I'm looking around for... for some sign of life, but there's nothing. No animals, no birds, nothing but... but trees. And even they ain't right. And then next thing I know, there ain't any trees either!" Yondu raised his cup of clear Xandarian whisky and missed his lips, brushing it against his cheek instead. He managed to get some in his mouth on his second try and swallowed with a grimace. "They all got sucked into the ground like... like..."

"Moon worms?" offered Hess. He and his sister Ross, along with a handful of other crew members were sitting at a table in the mess, listening to their captain's stories. They'd heard this one before, but who doesn't love a good Space Tale? And Yondu had some of the best.

Ross, squeezed his shoulder and said, "Hush, he's getting to the good part." She was taller, paler, and slimmer then him, with sharper features and white spines neatly groomed along the top of her head.

With an approving grin, Yondu leaned forward like he was about to tell some great secret. "The ground starts shaking and it opens up and all I'm thinking is, 'Oh shit! Earthquake!' Only it ain't no earthquake! It's a mouth!" He slammed a hand on the table for dramatic effect. "And this big ol' tongue sticks out of it, and starts feeling around. The planet was alive! It was trying to eat me!"

"You're so full of shit, Yondu!" someone called from across the room.

The drunk Centaurian shot to his feet with surprising grace, considering he could barely see straight. "Who the hell said that!" he yelled, his voice cracking at the end. He glared at the group gathered by the kitchens, and at Horuz in particular. He could tell the gruff man wasn't the one who spoke up, but he was the one who kept the dissenters in line, or out of line depending on his mood.

None of them wanted to take the blame, so they stayed silent.

"You don't believe me, you... you keep it to your damn self!" he growled. "I'm the Captain! The boss! Me!" He slapped his hands on his chest. "You gotta earn the right to talk to me like that, and you lot ain't earned shit!"

Everyone in the room tensed. No one knew the criteria Yondu followed when deciding to kill someone, as he seemed to do so completely at random. He might threaten an individual like Horuz into line for years without ever harming them, or he might off a new crew member within their first couple of days on board. And though there was no evidence that he was more likely to kill someone while drunk, no wanted to test that theory.

First rule of the Ravagers: don't get in a drunken brawl with the guy who can murder everyone in the room by whistling.

Ross, who was a little tipsy herself, bravely stepped into the Yondu's line of sight, smiled as prettily as her species could (which is not at all), and said, "How did you escape the Living Planet?"

Yondu blinked at her. How did he escape? "Shit... lost my spot." He rubbed at his temples and started to stumble away muttering "Screw you all... hope it shows up and eats every last one of ya..."

The Ravagers he left behind gave a collective sigh of relief.

The next day the very hung over Centaurian refused to leave the dark, quiet safety of his room, or even move from his warm bed. He was half awake and aware he should get up; he had Captain stuff to take care of. He just didn't care.

Eventually Kraglin's bright, orange photo blinked onto the display he kept next to his bed, trilling entirely too loud. He uttered an undignified moan and covered his head with a blanket to escape the noise and light.

After several minutes of it not letting up, he caved in and poked it.

"Boss? Boss? You ok?"

"Not so loud," Yondu rasped. He could barely get anything out and the effort set his throat on fire. He let out a few choice curses in his native language, which to Kraglin was nothing but unnatural hissing and clicking.

Kraglin frowned. "You gotta speak in Xandarian."

He got a growl and a middle finger for that.

"Ok, you're real hung over. I got that." He couldn't really complain. This hadn't happened in a very long time; not since Kraglin made First Mate. From what the boys had described, he shouldn't be this far gone. He must have gone back to his room last night and continued drinking on his own.

Kraglin sighed. "I can deal with the other stuff, but what do you want me to do about the Terran?"

"Terran's a little bitch," Yondu grumbled. He waved feebly at the screen, banishing it, and fell back into sweet, sweet oblivion.

On his end Kraglin stared at where the com-screen had been. "Crap." He had picked up on how important the kid was, to the point that Yondu wouldn't trust anyone else with his care. The Captain was being overly secretive about the job, which usually meant it was either extremely dangerous, or highly sensitive... or both. That was probably why he was treating the Terran so well.

Would letting the creature go without the essentials for a day cause any problems? The kid would survive, but what if his Daddy heard about it and got pissed? Someone who could pay enough for a job like this would be powerful. The Ravagers didn't want someone like that after their hides.

Kraglin decided he'd better play it safe and headed to the mess for food and water.

In his room, Peter finally caved and ate some of the alien food, which was only a little bit as disgusting as he imagined it would be. Still he made a big deal out of it, pinching his nose and making faces as he choked the strange textures and flavours down.

As he cleared the tray he waited for the nausea to start, but he felt nothing. In fact, he felt better then he had in days. The constant ache in his midriff, as well as the fatigue were gone. He thought he might actually stand a chance of escaping.

He had no idea what he would do once he got out. Oh well... his Grandpa was always saying you had to take things one step at a time.

Finally the door opened, only it wasn't Yondu who entered. It was Pencil Neck the human-looking guy. Peter was worried for a second, but he realized it didn't matter which alien fell into his trap, as long as he got out that door.

And fall Pencil Neck did.

He didn't even look around as he stepped into the room and right onto the scattered batteries. The result was a bit like a cartoon: his feet were denied traction and sent in the air, and he slammed the tray of food into his own face as he landed on his back. Peter might have laughed if he wasn't so scared.

Instead he jumped over the prone Space Pirate and dashed out the door. Relief flooded him as he found the hallway deserted, but Pencil Neck was yelling curses at him and already getting up.

Peter ran down the dark, metal hallway looking for someplace... anyplace to hide. The ship (at least he thought it was a ship) was dark and industrial, with lots of gaps in the walls in ceiling. He eyed the grate above his head. There were lights coming from the edges of it, and it hung down, creating a gap that should be large enough for him to squeeze into. The walls in this corridor were slanted and had convenient horizontal ridges perfect for climbing. Channeling all of his tree climbing experience, Peter scrambled up the wall and reached out, managing to grab the edge of the grate. With a kick off from the wall, he pushed himself up into the strangely bright space.

His legs were still dangling, though, and try as he might, he couldn't pull himself the rest of the way. His bag was caught!

He could hear feet pounding towards him so he wriggled and pulled until, just as he was sure Pencil Neck was going to spot his feet, the bag ripped and he was able to slip sideways onto the grate.

He lay still, holding his breath as the pounding passed by underneath him. He was safe.

Peter didn't move for a long time as he waited for his heart to slow and his hands to stop shaking. More and more people were passing by, shouting about finding the Terran before Yondu wakes up and cursing someone named Kraglin.

He took his bag off and rolled onto his back. He was in a sort of trench in the ceiling, and above him ran dozens of thick, glowing, cables. Mesmerized, he reached out and touched them... probably not the best idea.

Luckily nothing happened. The cables were warm, and they hummed beneath his fingers. He lowered his hand and rested it on his stomach.

Now what?

More aliens ran by. There were too many of them on alert now for him to safely sneak around. He'd have to stay up here. At least there was enough room that he could crawl along the top of the grate, but he didn't know how far it went, and he'd need food and water before long.

The spaceships? He didn't know how to get to the hanger, or if he could fly one, but trying was better than letting himself get caught... or hiding out till he starved.

In the immortal words of Master Yoda, "Do or do not. There is no try."

And even that Yondu alien told him to take what he wanted. Well... he wanted to go home.

He put his bag back on and started his slow, tedious crawl in what he hoped was the right direction.