Title is from the song 'The Case of William Smith' by Astronautical. It's been one of the key chapters I've had in mind since the start of the project, and one of the core songs for Rocket's character here.

This is a fan based work for entertainment only. Guardians of the Galaxy belongs to Marvel.

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Chapter 6: The Case of William Smith

Marlowe had parted ways from the group as soon as Peter gave her the coordinates for Ego's location. Peter hoped she would keep her word about helping them track down Gamora's parents. They could use all the help they could get.

Cosmo had left along with her, claiming he had calls to make and business to attend to with his generals back on Knowhere. Drax returned to their room shortly after, supposedly going back to continue the rest that Peter had interrupted.

With nothing else to occupy his time, Peter wound up spending his morning wandering the ship with no particular destination in mind. It was a pretty impressive ship in Peter's estimation. Not quite twice the size of the Eclector and obviously designed to hold a large crew in comfort, even if not all of the systems were fully functional. He discovered from some chatty engineers that the ship's name was the Starburst, and that while the loss of the Empire had sorely crippled their efforts, they were still working tirelessly to get the remaining half-finished systems online, though the going was slow at best. Peter wondered if maybe Rocket would be able to help with these improvements once he was up and about, but didn't voice his thoughts.

By the early afternoon he had wandered his way down to the hangars. An entire fleet of Nova Ships was docked in the massive bay. Some of the ships he passed bore dents and marks that were probably from their recent rescue mission to save him and his friends. A handful were gutted or missing larger pieces, the mechanics working on them too busy to spare Peter much more than a cursory glance.

This was where he happened to run into Dey. The Denarian was strolling down one of the rows, dressed in full flight gear with his face so buried in a tablet that he hadn't even noticed Peter until he called out a greeting.

"Peter?" Dey asked, halting and lowering the tablet. The glow from its screen cast bold shadows that exaggerated his surprised expression. "What are you doing down here?"

"Scoping out the ship." Peter gave a sheepish shrug as he caught up. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed some time to himself, but he was more than ready to have a friendly face to talk to. "You getting ready to go somewhere?"

"Just getting back, actually," Dey said, tucking the tablet under one arm. "Running some of the Corpsmen on their defense patterns. The younger crew and new recruits need as much experience as they can get."

"New recruits?"

"Yeah." Dey scratched offhandedly at the faint stubble on his chin as he spoke. "Most of the people we help, we relocate to safer portions of the galaxies, but now and then some of them want to stay and help us fight."

"Oh." In the distance, Peter thought he could see a group of corpsmen in flight gear moving through the hangar as well. As the capitol planet of a vast empire, Xandar had always had a very eclectic citizenship, so Peter had no clue which of them were new recruits and which were just young members from before the fall of Xandar. "This wouldn't have anything to do with going to see my father would it?" Peter asked, the sight of the young and inexperienced aliens suddenly filling him with an unexpected wave of apprehension.

"No." Dey's face softened into a smile, like he understood what Peter was thinking. "That group already left. It's a good crew. They know what they're doing. These drills are a regular part of life around here."

"Wait, they left already?" Peter felt a small trill of annoyance at that. He had asked to stay in the loop after all.

"Before morning cycle was up," Dey affirmed, beginning to walk again. "Nova Prime didn't want to waste any time."

"No one told me anything about this." Peter fell into step beside Dey.

"No one knew where you were," Dey replied with a look that was more amused than anything else.

"Oh," Peter huffed, deflating slightly. "Right."

"Don't worry, Nova Prime's leading the mission himself. They'll all be fine, and back before you know it. Marlowe told me she thinks they might even be calling the trial tomorrow morning if things go well."

Peter chewed his lip as he considered the impending trial with a mixture of dread and impatience. He'd been waiting for this trial for cycles but the thought of it actually being so soon wasn't as relieving as he hoped it would be. Marlowe's warning about all the worst ways it could end came unbidden to the back of his mind.

They walked on in silence for a bit while Peter shuffled through his head for what kind of questions he might need to ask Dey as long as he had him, but his musings were interrupted by a low musical alarm chiming out across the bay.

"Oh?" Dey said, coming to a halt and staring up at a blinking screen far above their heads, fastened high along one of the walls of the hangar. "They're back already? That was quick."

"That's... good right?" Peter asked.

"I'm not sure," Dey said slowly. "Let's go find out. They'll be docking in the far wing. Follow me."

Dey turned and led them through the winding aisles of ships to a new section of the docks. By the time they were in sight, the incoming ships had already docked and the crews had disembarked. Some of the crew were already running through the familiar routines of a post-flight check, while others were vanishing back towards the dock exits. Several of the Nova Crewmen shot him sideways glances as they passed.

"Dey? ...Peter?" Marlowe's voice distracted Peter from wondering at the strange looks, and he found the Nova Prime and his assistant approaching down the walkway. "What's he doing down here?"

"Just getting a tour of the ship," Dey answered easily, unperturbed by Marlowe's accusatory tone.

Marlowe and Saal had come to a halt in front of Peter and Dey, and for a moment Saal pinned Peter down with a thoughtful look, the wrinkles on his face deepening slightly.

"How'd it go?" Peter demanded, too impatient for their small talk.

Marlowe's eyes flickered over to Saal for a moment before answering.

"It went remarkably well," she answered, in a tone that made Peter think she was carefully considering what to tell him.

"Was Mantis there?" he asked, when she let the pause linger too long. "Was she alright?"

"There was someone fitting your description of Mantis present, and she seemed to be under no immediate duress."

"Great!" Peter all but crowed, his heart feeling lighter at the news. "Did you see my father?"

If Mantis was there, then Ego must have been, too.

"We met him, actually," Marlowe added, after another quick glance Saal's way. "We have some DNA which is being sent to the labs as we speak to run against yours."

"Everyone's Okay, though. So he wasn't suspicious?" Peter asked slowly, ignoring the way his heart beat faster at the mention of coming face to face with his father.

"We'll have time to discuss this later," Saal cut in, apparently losing patience and beginning to move off. "For now you should prepare your crew. We'll be holding the trial tonight."

"So soon?" Dey's brows rose in surprise.

Marlowe just shot him a quick smile, hardly more than a twitch of the lips and toss of a shoulder, before hurrying to catch up to Saal.

"I wonder what happened?" Dey's brows drew together as he watched the Prime and his assistant hurry away.

-x-

Peter was more than happy to take Saal's advice and gather his crew as quickly as he could. Drax and Groot, who had wandered from the room, proved difficult to locate. He and Dey, who had agreed to accompany him so he could convene with his incarcerated crewmates as well, eventually tracked them down in some out of the way viewing room. The two were seated on a pair of dark couches set under a massive glass wall that provided a decent view of the space outside of the ship. Between the couches was a small matching table with an empty tray and a mug, probably the remains of Drax's lunch.

"Whoah!" Peter gasped, staring out the window at a huge asteroid that was drifting lazily by. It was so close to the ship Peter could make out tiny black flecks, like shards of broken glass or obsidian, set into the brown surface. "Where are we?"

"An unnamed asteroid field outside of the Blackmoon Quadrant." Dey joined him at the window, his distant smile reflecting off the glass. "The metals in the asteroids and a strong electromagnetic field make it impossible to use scanners or trackers to find us. A ship this big and this new isn't easy to hide, and on top of not wanting to be found by Thanos, we'd be an obvious target for scrappers and pirates.

"Of course," Dey added, rubbing at his nose sheepishly, "it makes our communications a bit tricky sometimes. Our ship can't really send or receive hails from outside of the field. Your friend Yondu almost didn't find us in time to save you."

"Wait." Peter pulled away from the window. "I thought Cosmo said he was going to be calling his generals back on Knowhere today?"

"We have scouts that patrol outside of the asteroid fields at set times to keep an eye on the surrounding areas and intercept communications from our allies. Cosmo would have to go with one of them on their rout to send a message out. He'll probably be gone for a while."

"Will he be back in time for the trial?" Peter tried to keep the trepidation from his voice, but it must have shown through as Dey's smile faltered a bit.

"I'm not sure. Patrols return pretty late in the cycle, so he might not."

"Trial?" Drax asked, rising from his seat on one of the dark couches.

"It was moved to tonight," Peter informed him. "I was coming to gather you guys so we could meet up with the others. But first, can we swing by the mess hall?"

-x-

Peter led the way down the hallway, a warm mug held carefully in his bandaged hands. After nearly setting a new personal record for how quickly he could cram a meal down, Peter had insisted on finding some broth to bring with them on the chance that Rocket was more awake by now. He was really hoping he might be awake enough to gather at least some of what was going on. Rocket wasn't always the best at making good impressions. In fact, in their months together as the Guardians, Rocket, and his complete lack of anything resembling a filter, had single-handedly caused more disputes and cost them more allies than all of the other guardians combined, and that was saying something. The last thing they needed here was a repeat of the incident with the Sovereign. For the sake of getting them all out of here and moving on, Peter was not above begging or bribery.

Inside the Containment Unit, the first thing Peter noticed was that Gamora was sitting, cross-legged on the floor next to the wall that separated her cell from Rocket's. Nebula was on the floor as well. She was at least an arm's length away, with her elbows balanced on her bent knees, but it was closer than Peter had seen the sisters willing sit together since coming to this universe.

"How is he?" Peter couldn't quite see Rocket from the entryway and was suddenly worried that something had gone wrong with his recovery, but when Nebula glanced up at him her eyes were dull with boredom and the first hints of frustration, rather than any concern.

"Coming along," she answered, rising to her feet. "Is that for him?"

"Yeah. Broth, like Gamora said." As Peter made it to the end of the hallway he found Rocket sitting directly in front of Gamora, arms crossed and ears pressed back. An unpleasant look was smeared across his face as he glared back at her.

"Hey Rocket," Peter tried.

Rocket turned his head slowly, the dirty look shifting from Gamora to Peter. Despite his sour expression and rumpled appearance, Rocket was obviously much more awake and alert than he had been earlier. Well, it was progress. It was really hard to reason with someone who was too out of it to understand your words.

"Glad to see you're looking better. I brought you some broth." Peter raised the mug and wiggled it slightly. "You like Bereth broth, right? There weren't many choices."

Rocket just narrowed his eyes and flattened his ears more, like Peter's voice was too loud. He was reminded again of his own Rocket but with a killer hangover, and tried to lower his voice.

Dey, who had been watching them interact quietly, stepped forward and unlocked the door before stepping back. The remote to Rocket's collar was hidden away in one of his pockets. Dey had gathered it while Peter, Drax and Groot were busy in the mess hall. Peter was grateful for the discretion at least.

Rocket's glare didn't waver as Peter entered, but there was no growling or hissing and Peter felt immeasurably more reassured at seeing his friend acting a little more like his normal self.

"Here." Peter knelt down an arm's length away and held the mug out. Rocket made no move to take it from him. Those hard brown eyes studied him carefully for several long beats before Rocket finally opened his mouth.

"Just leave it," Rocket grunted out. His voice was raw and cracked, even more so than usual, and though Peter had been expecting as much after his last few trying days, he was still surprised at exactly how bad it was, and found himself wondering if it was from more than just a few days of sickness and disuse.

"Okay, sure." All of Peter's bravado and determination seemed to melt away at the reality before him. There was the sharp clack of ceramic on tile as Peter set the mug down between them. "Just, um, let me know if you want more I guess."

Rocket's only response was a rippling twitch of his whiskers which could have meant anything, and Peter had to be satisfied with that.

"Anyways," Peter said as he stepped back out of the cell and let Dey close it again. "We're here because the trip to see my dad was a success, and they're calling the trial tonight."

"So soon?" Nebula's brow arching upwards and her arms crossed over her chest.

"Sooner's better, isn't it?" Peter asked, though she was only mirroring his own doubts on the matter. "Mantis was there. And the sooner the trial is out of the way, the sooner we can get you guys out of here, save her, and start looking for Gamora's parents." As Peter spoke, he risked a glance at Rocket to see if he was listening, and was happy to see him watching carefully.

Nebula just hummed in response, the noise muffled slightly by the thick glass between them.

"Do you know what this trial will consist of exactly?" Gamora joined her sister at the door, leaving the same arm's length between them that had been present earlier.

"Not really..." Peter looked back at Dey who was standing behind him in the hallway.

"It should be pretty simple, really," Dey said, speaking for the first time since arriving. "The council will be acting jury and Nova Prime will be presiding over it. Some of the crew should be present, too. Mostly it's an assessment of the danger present to the crew and how best to deal with it..."

As Dey had been speaking Peter noticed Groot behind him, still lingering in the doorway to the rest of the ship.

"Groot?" Peter asked, leaning over to get a better view of the collosus. "What are you doing? You should be a part of this."

"I am Groot," Groot muttered, shifting back.

"What do you mean 'no thanks'?" Peter asked, raising a brow in surprise.

"I am Groot."

"It's not that cramped. Look. Drax is in here and he's just fine." Peter waved at the maniac standing quietly at Dey's side as he spoke.

"There is adequate space in here for the tree," Drax agreed.

Groot shuffled reluctantly through the doorway, but stopped inside the break area and refused to come any further.

"I am Groot," he grumbled mutinously.

"Suit yourself," Peter sighed, giving up trying to persuade Groot in any further. If he wanted to be difficult, that was fine. He wasn't the one in any danger here, so Peter would worry about puzzling out this sudden change of attitude later.

"Is your friend alright?" Dey asked, watching Groot from over his shoulder.

"Yeah, he just... doesn't like small spaces," Peter answered lamely. "He's spent a lot of time in prisons lately."

There was a loud snort of familiar laughter and Peter turned in surprise to stare at Rocket.

"Lotta time in a prison, huh?" he laughed with a sneer that flashed the tips of his teeth, though the effect was somewhat lost to his crackling voice. "Cause no one else here would know what that's like, right?" He turned to stare expectantly at Gamora and Nebula in their cell, but his wheezing laugh trailed off when they didn't respond, and his face fell back into its ugly glare. His lips peeled back, and Peter was pretty certain that if his body wasn't so sore, the raccoon would be flipping the assassins off right now.

"Why don't you quit being a baby, you overgrown court weed?" Rocket spat out, loud enough to be easily heard by Groot who was still hovering out of sight from Rocket's cell.

Groot remained silent, but was shifting his weight around where he stood. There was a dark look that Peter had never seen on his friend's adult face before, but was oddly reminiscent of his sullen teenage phase.

Well this was new. Rocket and Groot had been such an inseparable pair in his own reality, Peter hadn't really considered any other possibilities here, and yet, there was obviously something unpleasant between them. Peter realized with a small jolt that he had been somewhat relying on Groot to help persuade Rocket to join them. That plan was quickly tossed in the scrap heap.

"The tree is a baby?" Drax asked, his brows raising in alarm. "If he grows any larger, it will be difficult to fit him on any ship."

"It's just an insult." Peter sighed. "Groot's not going to get bigger. Right?"

In actuality, Peter had no clue if Groot could grow any bigger. They'd only been together a cycle or so before he'd burned, and since then had been regrowing. Peter had sort of just assumed this was his adult form. But Groot didn't correct him, so his assumption was probably correct.

"Still," Drax persisted. "It is deplorable to send a baby into battle."

"He's not a baby. It's a metaphor or... simile... or whatever," Peter groaned and waved his hand. It had been too many years since elementary school and Mrs Willow's grammar lessons. He didn't really remember the difference between all the fancy words for types of metaphors anymore. "Rocket was just saying that Groot was behaving like a baby."

"I am Groot!"

"I wasn't agreeing with him!"

Rocket seemed to be enjoying the chaos he was causing. Under the thick layer of misery was a small but definite spark of a devious humor that Peter had long since learned to dread, and maybe even fear a little.

From his spot in the middle of the hallway, Dey cleared his throat.

"Do you guys... normally get along so well?"

"Things are a bit strained right now." Gamora's calm voice of reason came to the rescue, saving Peter from having to answer. Anything he could say to make Dey feel better would probably have been an outright lie. "I'm sure you can understand why."

"Of Course." Dey didn't seem entirely convinced, the corners of his mouth were pulled down in a small frown.

"How long do you think we have?" Peter asked, trying to get them all back on the same page. All this in-fighting wasn't good. Marlowe had made it pretty clear that their freedom was hinged largely on his ability to control the team. Gamora and Nebula seemed to be in the spirit at least, but without being able to ever be alone with Rocket, Peter could only hope that he could figure it out on his own, or the assassins could explain the plan and convince him to play along. They had clearly been doing something when he had come in, but he didn't dare ask any details with Dey hovering over his shoulder, and potrentially give away just how little control he had.

"We're well past midcycle," Dey answered, checking the little screen on his wrist. "So not too long, I'd imagine. But they'll have to run the tests first and prepare the room and crew. They'll probably be sending an escort once everything else is ready. You might want to get cleaned up a bit before then."

Peter glanced down at himself and realized the Denerian may have a point. He'd been running around the ship all day and his clothes were a bit sweaty and rumpled. He could probably use another shower, too. He had taken one the day before to wash the rest of the blood and grime from the battlefield off, but a surreptitious sniff of his shirt proved he still stank quite a bit.

"Ughf. Okay, yeah. Is Yondu still around? He has the Milano, so I can see if any of my clothes survived the crash." It would be nice to get back into his own clothes anyways. He'd been running around in spare cadet uniforms for long enough.

"I think so. Do you have anything more formal?" Dey asked, turning to question Drax. "We might have some spare formal shirts in your size-"

"I will not be wearing a shirt," Drax cut him off stubbornly.

"But it would-"

"Don't bother," Peter cut Dey off now before they could wander too far off-topic again. "He won't budge on this. But I'll get you some more pants while I grab my own clothes." Drax's ravager pants had been damaged beyond repair during the fight on Traxxon III. Like Peter, he was just borrowing spare clothes from the Nova Corps right now. He knew it was silly, but Peter found he couldn't help but feel better at the thought of his crew back in their ravager red to face this new, strange threat.

"Do you guys want some new clothes, too?" Peter asked, turning back to face the assassins. Nebula was still wearing her jumpsuit she'd sequestered from the Eclector before leaving, but it was looking worse for the wear with several torn pieces along one shoulder and a couple of burns and blood stains. The black of Gamora's outfit hid the blood and grime well enough, but it was still ripped and tattered from the shrapnel of the exploding Milano. Gamora opened her mouth, looking ready to refuse when Nebula spoke over her.

"Sure."

"Great." Peter perked up a bit at the tiny victory even as Gamora shot her sister a surprised look which went unanswered.

Yondu's ravager faction was currently composed entirely of men, but it wasn't so much a rule, as just the fact that no women really wanted to join the marauding crew of over one hundred men who were so very accustom to living with other men in a seemingly never-ending contest to out-disgust each other. Later, after Yondu's funeral, Peter had learned from Stakar that this was a pretty common phenomena among the ravager factions; ships would often drift to being composed of entirely men or entirely women. Still, there had been a few occasions during Peter's time with them when females had briefly joined Yondu's crew, and he knew they always had a handful of women's uniforms floating around in crew storage.

"Don't even bother," Rocket rumbled out when Peter glanced at him thoughtfully. That was fine, though. Peter honestly didn't think he could do anything about Rocket's uniform anyways. Last time the ship's tailor had made Rocket's jumpsuit, but Peter didn't have Rocket's measurements memorized, and doubted he would be persuaded to give them over even if there was time for it. He would just have to settle for everyone else.

"Alright, I'll be back as quickly as I can."

-x-

Yondu proved easy to locate with just a few inquiries -The Ravager captain had been hanging around after news of the impending trial had blown his way- and Peter was delighted to learn that the Eclector was stationed nearby. It wasn't long before Peter was returning with a stack of fresh uniforms folded in his arms.

Dey, who had accepted Peter's offer to come along and had visited the Eclector with a mixture of delight and poorly-hidden horror, returned with him now so he could drop off the clothes. Groot, still in some sort of bad mood and not needing any sort of uniform, had returned to their rooms as soon as they had left the Containment Unit. Drax left to join him as soon as Peter handed over his change of clothes.

"Sorry, they're a bit dated, but they're clean." Peter smiled as he handed the remaining uniforms to the assassins through the flow glass.

"They're fine." Nebula accepted the uniforms, passing one back to Gamora without looking.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go back to the room and get ready myself. It's been suggested I stay there until they call for the trial. I think they don't want us conspiring." Peter laughed at his joke, but no one else laughed with him and it died back down. "Anyways, I probably won't see you again until then. Dey said they'll be sending an escort for you guys, which probably means-"

"Restraints and armed guards. Yes." Nebula cut off his awkward babbling with a flat tone and flatter look that reminded him this wasn't anyone's first time as a prisoner. "Is there anything else?"

"One thing," Peter mumbled, suddenly nervous about his request. "I know it's really not your style..." He paused to glance at Gamora and make sure Rocket was listening as well to include them in his request. "But I think an apology would go a long way here..."

Across the glass Nebula stiffened. It was subtle, hardly more than a sharpening of her features and a deepening to the creases of the uniform held in her arms, but it made Peter's heart beat a little harder and his palms sweat as he feared the worst in her reaction.

"Of course," came the unexpected response, the deceptively mild tone not matching the tension in her body. "You're the captain."

"G-great." Peter had no doubt that he had upset her, and that any apology she gave would be for the sake of the trial and maintaining the appearances, and nothing else, but out of all of them, Nebula was honestly the one he was most worried about here. Even more so than Gamora, who's crimes were not as personal to the crew and who had a calm air about her at all times. Even Rocket, who had been referred to as a weapon with a casualty that set Peter's nerves on end, seemed to be afforded some sort of pity which Peter was sure would work out in his favor, just as sure as he was that Rocket wouldn't appreciate it.

He hadn't been oblivious to the sharp looks Marlowe had sent Nebula's way, however, or how she'd been just a little cooler towards the younger assassin, nor had he forgotten that Nebula was the only one there when Xandar burned. There was a bad blood between her and the Nova Corps that didn't exist between the Xandarians and either of the other 'prisoners.'

"...Thank you."

-x-

Back in their borrowed room, freshly washed and dressed, Peter's hair wasn't even done drying when a Nova Crewman he didn't recognize knocked on the door to alert them the trial was beginning. Peter, Drax and Groot were led back to the same room he had been questioned in. The Council members and Saal were once again seated behind the desk on the raised dais. As before, Marlowe was seated discreetly to the side. Her flight suit had been replaced with a more formal uniform featuring a skirt that was reminiscent of the first time they had met in his own universe. A couple dozen or so crew members in full formal uniform as well were seated as audience around the room, making it feel much smaller and more claustrophobic than before. Yondu was there as well, his normal attire and bored slouch making him stick out like a sore thumb among the crowd. There was a wide berth of open space in front of the dais where Peter supposed he and his crew were meant to plead their case or do whatever they were going to do here.

"Star-lord. Guardians. Please take a seat." Saal indicated a row of empty seats inside the empty space.

"Where's the rest of my crew?" Peter asked stubbornly

"They will be joining us shortly. Before that, we have some things to review."

It seemed the Nova Corps hadn't just been twiddling their thumbs these last couple days. Among the information brought to light were a long list of bounties on Peter's Star-lord alias, all of which could be traced back to Thanos in some way or another, a more recent bounty placed on Nebula's head that had been circulating in some underground channels to the tune of desertion, and reports of the Oasis's destruction which lead to a whole new round of questioning. By the time they had circled back to questions about Halfworld, -which apparently the Nova Corps had only ever heard rumors of and were both fascinated, and horrified, to learn of the reality of it's existence- Peter was glad that the rest of his crew wasn't stuck here listening to this endless babbling that was nearly putting Peter to sleep.

Whenever the line of questioning would get too far out of Peter's very limited knowledge of this universe and the inner workings of Thanos's army, he would be reduced to offering a shrug and a 'Nebula probably knows' or 'You could try asking Gamora' and Saal would quickly move them along to the next topic.

While they spoke, Marlowe was busy recording and organizing information onto her tablet with frightening speed, and the members of the council would occasionally scribble notes onto pads next to them.

Eventually, when Peter was unable to answer anything with certainty, the questions wound down and the rest of his crew was brought in.

As Peter had predicted, they were all bound with some very heavy duty looking handcuffs, and escorted by a number of rather imposing looking and well-armed crewmen. Despite the aggressive precautions, everyone appeared untouched and unfazed. Gamora was more calm and composed than he had seen her since Knowhere, surveying the room with her head held high as she entered.

The trio were shown to a set of chairs in front of the dais, far enough away from the others to allow a clear view of the prisoners from all sides. Gamora and Nebula took the offered seats, but Rocket just sneered at the guards and remained standing, his tail lashing slowly back and forth while he inspected the room through narrowed eyes. Peter tried to catch Rocket's eye when his inspection swept over his section of the room, but he was steadfastly ignored.

"I am sure by now you are well aware of why you are here, and the predicament we all find ourselves in," Saal began, addressing all three at once with his hands clasped together on the desk in front of him.

He was met with only silence.

"This is far from what I would call an ideal situation, however, the fact is that in times like these, opportunities often come to us under the guise of obstacles. What I see before me are some very large obstacles for my people, indeed, and an opportunity is just what I'd like to see made of it."

From his spot behind the assassins and slightly to the side, Peter could see Rocket's lips peel back into a silent snicker. The sight made the hair on the back of Peter's neck prickle, but Saal continued on like he hadn't noticed.

"All three of you have committed atrocities; so many that it would be a waste of this court's time to list the crimes in your records, let alone speculate at the horrors committed beyond our knowledge."

Peter thought he saw Gamora's carefully schooled expression falter for a moment, but from his angle he couldn't be certain.

"Regardless of this, it has always been the way of the Nova Corps to learn from the past but to be willing to step over it in favor of moving towards the future. Our previous prime, Irani, lived by this ideal, and she died by it as well. She devoted her life to making peace with our greatest enemy, and achieved it, but that peace would ultimately be what cost her-what cost all of us here today-everything. It would be easy to let our hearts be embittered by this. To let our loss and our grief excuse our own atrocities in turn. Surely, we could excuse the destruction of Thanos's favorite children and one of his greatest weapons as a necessary evil to spare the universe from a greater loss, and never once bring to our lips the word revenge, but to do that would be to let die the very core of the Nova Empire- the very last of what holds us together, and the one thing Ronan could never hope to destroy on his own, even with all the powers within the universe. I believe that in killing you, we would be delivering that final blow with our own hands."

He paused here, perhaps to gauge the Guardian's response, but more likely to let his words sink in for his own crew as well.

"It is not lost to us, as well, that now is no time to pass up any opportunity to do harm to Thanos's army. Your friend, with his Celestial heritage, presents quite the opportunity to do just that, and your continued survival has been listed among the payments he would extract from us in exchange for this help. What is in question here and now, is what form that continued survival should take."

Here, Saal's speech took on a harder tone and he leaned his weight forward onto his elbows, pinning the three Guardians down with a heavy look.

"What is it you want from us?" Gamora asked, straightening up even more as she took control of the Guardian's end of the conversation.

"I am sure you can understand the risk I am taking with my crew's safety -something, I assure you, I take very seriously- in allowing you three to remain on our ship. First and foremost, I am looking for an assurance of your loyalties. For now, your word, at the least, your promise of obedience, and any information you possess which may aid our battle against Thanos. The details of your parole have yet to be determined, but I can safely say the level of your freedom and restrictions will be a reflection of your own actions. We have heard much from your companions of your supposed characters, but before we begin deliberation, I would give you the chance to speak on your own behalf." Here, Saal leaned back, gesturing with his hands for the trio to take the spotlight.

Gamora continued to take the lead, standing from her chair to face Saal and the council with a composure and self assuredness that made Peter almost feel like he was looking at his own Gamora again.

"You can have our word that we mean your crew no harm," she said confidently. "More than that, you can have our assurance that our obedience to the Titan is ended. We will not deny the things that we have done under his rule." From where he sat, Peter thought he saw Gamora hesitate for the briefest of moments and wondered how far along she had made it in sorting through her memories. Did she even know all of what she had done? What she was confessing to? "But, we will deny any accusations of committing these actions under our own free will or desire. Free from his sway, and under the power of our own choice, we would see the Titan fall, and preserve the rest of the galaxies from his cruelties."

There was a general murmuring and rustling through the crowd assembled around them in the silence that followed her words.

"Pretty words." The lines around Saal's lips were deep as he stared at the Guardian's with an unreadable expression. "But we will take them into our consideration. Is there anything else you would like to add before we move on?"

The red tips of Gamora's hair bounced and rippled when she turned her head towards Nebula who was still seated beside her. Peter couldn't see whatever look they shared, but a moment later Nebula rose to her feet as well. A hush fell over the makeshift auditorium, so still it felt as if no one dared breath and even the soft tapping of Marlowe's fingers across her tablet faded away. In that brief silence Nebula tossed a glance over her shoulder to catch Peter's eye. It was so quick and subtle Peter might not have noticed at all if he wasn't watching her so intently.

"An apology won't do anything to change what has happened," she began, her voice taught but steady. "But for the part I played on that day, and the losses incurred by your people; I do apologize. I took no joy in it then and no pride in it now." Peter was sure he recognized Gamora's prose underneath Nebula's uncomfortably clipped tone, and wondered if they had worked something out after he had left.

"I thank you for your apology." Saal's words were nearly as tight and withdrawn as Nebula's had been. "With no further matters to raise, we will begin-"

The Nova Prime was interrupted by a rasping chuckle that only grew louder in the resulting silence. Peter felt his blood run cold as Rocket threw his head back into full blown laughter, cruel and mocking.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted one of the council members.

"Oh!" Rocket's howling laughter fell back down, but refused to fade away entirely. "I'm so sorry," he chuckled. "Cause that's what we're doing here, right? Sayin' I'm sorry and makin' everything all better? 'I know I murdered everyone you ever loved," He screwed his face up and raised his voice as he mocked Nebula. "But I'm sorry so let's all hold hands and get along!' What's next? Are we gonna go park on a planet so we can skip through some fields like one big happy family?"

"Rodent!" Gamora's hiss was nearly drowned by the shouts of outrage and Rocket's bellowing laughter.

Rocket's jaw snapped shut abruptly and he rounded on Gamora with a snarl.

"You might be spineless enough to grovel at their feet, but I'm not!" he spat at her with venom.

"Rocket!" Peter shouted, barely hearing his own voice over the pounding of his own heart. "They're trying to help-"

"Bullshit!" Rocket rounded on Peter now. "How stupid do you think I am?! This ain't the first time I've been bought but it sure as hell is gonna be the last!"

"No one's trying to buy-"

"You can call it whatever you want, sit on your precious council and spout out the word parole, but I still got a collar 'round my neck and chains on my arms, and the options are obedience or death. You're just a new boss singin' the same old song, and if you ask me, I'm no better off here than I was with that oversized raisin. This isn't a trial, it's just another god-damned auction block."

"We have a chance to save the galaxies," Gamora said stiffly. "To kill Thanos."

"I don't give a flying crap about the galaxies! And I hope he kills you! I hope you all kill each other and there's no one left!" Rocket turned his head, sweeping his glare across the room to leave no doubt that he was including everyone present. His voice had risen to near hysterical levels and was beginning to crack under the strain of its abuse.

"That's enough!" Saal slammed his hands down on the desk as he rose, his furious eyes landing squarely on Peter. "Control your people or-"

"Control me!?" Rocket howled, whirling now on the Nova Prime. "Oh, no. I'm in control of me now, and I ain't going back quietly!"

To Peter's absolute horror Rocket gave a final twist of his wrist and the cuffs holding his arms in front of himself fell to the floor. He must have been undoing them this whole time, but Peter had been so distracted with his endless whirling and erratically thrashing tail that he hadn't even noticed. Peter's mind was still reeling in surprise at this new development when Rocket launched himself straight for the Nova Prime and everything seemed to burst into life at once.

In one fluid movement Gamora hooked the leg of her chair with her ankle and flung it after Rocket, hitting him square in the back and knocking him down. At the same time Nebula raised her foot and stomped down on her own cuffs, ripping her right hand free with a horrible crunch of bone, then diving after Rocket, grappling him with her still working arm and pinning him down before he could regain his feet.

Peter had leaped forward without even realizing it, and now he stood frozen over Rocket who was thrashing and screeching profanities while he clawed and snapped at the mechanical arm pinning him down. As fast as things had come to life they froze again. A terrible hush swept over the room, making Rocket's cries all the more stark and jarring. When Peter lifted his eyes he found that nearly everyone else had sprung to action as well.

Every member of the council was standing now, and many of the guards which had come in with the assassins and Rocket had moved forward with weapons drawn to protect them. Marlowe, with the tablet nowhere to be found, stood steadfast between Saal and Rocket's interrupted path, a gun gripped white-knuckled in her hands. Peter couldn't even begin to fathom from where in her court uniform she had drawn it.

His eyes swept around the room and he found that every member of the audience had risen into various battle ready positions as well. All, that was, except for Yondu, who still slouched in his seat, coat thrown back and the corner of his lip pinned between his teeth in preparation for a whistle. The weight of the silence seemed to settle a bit heavier on his shoulders as Peter realized he didn't know with any certainty where that deadly arrow might have been pointed had it been loosed. Drax and Groot had risen from their seats but remained rooted where they were. In the center of it all Gamora stood, alone and unchanged since kicking the chair.

The first to break from the frozen tableau was Saal. Something cold and dark had taken over his expression as he slowly reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out the remote to Rocket's collar.

"No-" Peter stumbled forward a step, but a soft click froze him in his tracks again. Peter's heart dropped to his boots when he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the barrel of a blaster pointed squarely at his own head.

"Please." Peter licked his lips and raised his hands in a placating gesture as he turned back to plead with Saal. "Please don't."

"Center button." Gomora's cool voice sent a chill down Peter's spine. "Press it three times, then hold it down."

Saal's dark eyes considered the assassin for a moment before he raised the controller.

"No-" Peter jerked forward, but was stopped again by the all too familiar sensation of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. He could do nothing as Saal pressed the button as instructed and Rocket's curses contorted into a pained scream that abruptly cut off.

Rocket's final cry was still ringing in Peter's ears when the rest of the assembly roared into life. Shouts of outrage mingled with slews of insults directed at Rocket and the assassins. Through the cacophony, he could make out demands ranging from locking them up, to throwing them out the airlock, to more creative forms of execution. Peter's heart was beating like he'd just finished a marathon, and he suddenly caught a taste of the same hopelessness that had gripped him on Traxxon III when he was sure Ronan had won.

They didn't have weapons, Rocket was unconscious, and Gamora was still bound. There was no way they could fight their way out of here, and even if they tried, Peter was still loath to hurt these people who he had considered friends in another time. Peter's bandaged hands raised up to run through his hair, as his thoughts raced like a panicked mouse inside his skull. What was he supposed to do here?

As if in direct answer to his thought, one voice broke through the din.

"Perhaps, I can offer a solution."

Peter's heart nearly stuttered to a stop at the smug, easy tone which had haunted his nightmares for so long. Feeling like he must be mistaken, Peter slowly turned around to face the source of that voice. The rest of the assembly seemed to sense the shift in the air and the shouting died down as all eyes turned now to one corpsmen who stood with his hands in his pockets and an untroubled composure that made him stick out among the crowd. The strange man's eyes seemed to light up when they met Peter's and a soft glow rippled over his body, distorting it like an image under a clear water which had been disturbed. As the rippling settled the image resolved into the all too familiar and all too unwelcome sight of Ego.

"Hello, Peter."

End

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Chapter 7 Preview: "...Rather, I intend for you to hand him over, and for him to come with me willingly."

"And how do you intend to achieve that?" Another council member asked.

"With an offer you can't refuse..."

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I think this is the longest chapter yet, at 7.9k words. I almost split it in two and updated the first half last week, but I think I like it better this way. Sorry for the wait. We're finally getting back to the part of the story that I have a clearer picture for. I didn't think it would take this long to get here. I figured maybe three chapters when I wrapped up book 1, but it took 7. But then, I should know by now I'm bad at estimating words.

If anyone remembers, the Blackmoon quadrant was mentioned earlier when Nebula was looking at maps on Sakaar as a potential place to hide from Thanos. I was hoping I could work it back in somewhere.

Also, when going back and rereading some of the old chapters I realized I made a silly mistake in the first one and wrote about injuries healing on Nebula's left arm. That's her metal one. It made no sense. I am so sorry! I was so so embarrassed when I saw it! Why did no one tell me? Ahhh!

The next chapter will explain how Ego got on the ship. Don't worry, he didn't kill anyone.

Thank you for your patience!

And thank you for continuing to read.

~OMaM