Title is from "Dear Fellow Traveler" by Sea Wolf
Guardians of the Galaxy belongs to Marvel. This is made for entertainment only!
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Chapter 7: Dear Fellow Traveler
The crowd of Nova Officers fell back like sheep who had just discovered a wolf in their flock, weapons turning now towards this newcomer who had infiltrated their midst.
Ego didn't so much as spare them a cursory glance. Those blue eyes bore into Peter's, trapping him where he stood.
"Not even a hello for me?" Ego asked, spreading out his arms in mock pain. "And after all the trouble I went through to pay you a visit?"
"Wh-" Peter swallowed thickly and grasped for his voice.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON MY SHIP!?" Saal's outraged shout cut straight through Peter's attempts at finding a reply and the last of the crew's murmuring.
A broad grin spread across Ego's face as he turned to address the Nova Prime behind Peter.
"I had some suspicions after our little 'surprise' encounter that Peter somehow had his hands in it. It seems I was not mistaken, and so I stayed on for a bit. I was just checking on the quality of care my son was receiving here. You can't blame a father for worrying, after what happened the last time I left him in the care of someone else." Ego threw a smug look over one of his shoulders at Yondu who was standing now, with a dark storm brewing on his face.
"Where is Denerian Averil?!" Saal demanded.
Ego pursed his lips and tipped his head, as though contemplating the question with great solemnity while he toyed with the Nova Prime. "I believe he would be in the mess hall about now," he finally answered. "It seems his summons never quite made it to him."
"How did you get here?" Another councilman spoke up. Peter though he recognized the voice as the one called Zara, but didn't dare turn back to look.
"Where's Mantis?" His own voice startled him when it slipped out, low and accusatory.
"Mantis is fine," Ego answered Peter first with an easy smile. "I sent her back, alone, with the ship while I... hitched a ride." His head tilted slightly as he shifted his attention to the council member behind Peter. "You mortals are all so alike, and so short sighted. Your defense measures don't mean much to a being who can survive in space."
"Enough chatter," Saal snarled out. "State your business."
"Very well," Ego shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "I came here to check on my son. I had some concerns, and it would appear my concerns were well placed. So now it seems we have some matters to discuss."
Peter's lip lifted up into a sneer when Ego's smug smile landed on him.
"You may carry the light within you," he intoned, brows raising and chin lifted up like he was schooling a child not to place their hand on a hot stove, "but I assure you, you are still mortal enough that you would not survive a bullet to the head."
"Do you intend to force him from us?" At Saal's words, the crew members appeared to gather themselves, spreading out to surround the newest arrival and blocking the exits.
"Oh no, nothing so crude. 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 scoffed.
"With an offer you can't refuse," Ego answered the councilman's question, but held Peter's eyes. "It seems you have a bit of a... pest problem?" Ego's eyes slid from Peter to something behind him. "Gossip runs rampart on small ships, and from what I have gathered my short time aboard is that you have some rather dangerous criminals in your possession, and no way to deal with them? This seems to be causing a great deal of upset among your people... And I'm sure they won't take well to the news of what has just conspired here. An attempt against the life of their own leader is sure to stir some of the more volatile to action... And when you were so close to offering forgiveness... oh well, I guess we can all see what your forgiveness is worth to them, and what they would do given any freedom you would offer."
Around them, the crowd again shifted nervously, but now some of the Nova crew were darting glances between Ego and Peter's crew, as though expecting one of the Guardians to spring into an attack at any moment.
Peter really hated the sparkle in Ego's blue eyes. He looked like a dog that had just discovered an unguarded steak and couldn't believe its luck.
"Get to your point," Saal snapped, refusing to be cowed or swayed by the Celestial before him.
"My point," Ego said, "is that I have the means to provide you with a prison, far better than any you could ever devise on your own. An entire planet, with no way off, and no guards to harm. Give me the trouble makers, and I can promise to hold them where they will be safe, and far, far away from your crew."
"And in exchange for this?" Saal hissed.
"Why, Peter would come with them of course." Ego's eager grin had crept back and his eyes again met Peter's. "I think that would suit everyone just fine, now, wouldn't it?"
"I'm not going anywhere with you," Peter snarled.
"I understand we didn't part on the best of terms," Ego sighed, but the smile refused to budge from his face. "But is our little... family spat... really worth your friend's lives?" One hand lifted to gesture at something behind Peter.
Slowly, not trusting that this wasn't just some trick to make him lower his guard, Peter risked a look over his shoulder.
Behind him, Rocket was still unconscious, his body slumped in a heap on the floor. Nebula kneeled above him, one hand still gripped onto his collar, the other raised above her head in surrender to the handful of weapons pointed at her head and chest. More weapons were pointed at Gamora, who stood impassively under their aim, though a tension in her neck, one she often got from clenching her jaw when under stress, gave her worry away to Peter at least.
Tasting his own heart in his throat, Peter searched the faces of the crowd around them, but found only a varying mixture of disgust and fear. Most of them looked like they would be just as glad to be rid of his friends through any fate, so long as they would never be heard from again.
"The Nova Corps is already aware of your plans," Marlowe's voice rang out. "We will not allow you to use Peter to become a threat to the galaxies."
"The Expansion?" Ego's brows rose dramatically, almost touching the hair atop his head. "Is that what you think this is about? Oh, no my dear. I have bigger concerns for now than that failed experiment. I assure you, what I want here and now poses no threat to your... people, or any of the rest of the universe for that matter. I have no interest in this facsimile."
"You're not here for the expansion?" Peter didn't bother to hide his disbelief. "Then what do you want now?"
"To help you." Ego's smile split into a toothy grin that would probably be charming to anyone who didn't know what a slimy monster was hiding underneath. "Only the chance to help you. And in the process, perhaps to get to know my son-"
"Stop calling me your son!" Peter snapped, wishing desperately he had one of his blasters.
"You are my flesh and blood, Peter."
"I am nothing of yours!"
"You can deny it all you like, but it is my light that burns within you. I've heard the whispering on this ship and know that you intend to wield the Infinity Stone against that Titan. Whatever you think, you are not yet strong enough to do that on your own without being consumed, and you never will be without my help. I am trying to help you survive this foolish endeavor of yours."
"How would you help me?"
"By guiding you, as I did before you turned on me and forced my hand into that battle. I will show you how to control the Light within you, not just let it run rampant and wild like you do now, and how to cultivate it as well, into something greater."
"So you want him to walk right into your arms," Yondu spoke up. His voice was strained through a tightly reigned fury. "So you can kill'm the way you killed all your other children?"
Ego's eyes were dark with undisguised hate when they turned to meet the ravager captain.
"I tried to better them." Ego's voice dropped as he lost his composure for a moment. "And you didn't seem to care so much what their fates were when you were being paid. Always so eager for the next set of coordinates-
A sharp whistle and flash of red caused the Celestial to stutter to a halt. Eyes wide, he brought his fingers up to touch a hole through his chest. No blood oozed from the injury. Instead a bright light burned out from within the punctured clothes.
"Well," Ego huffed. "How savage. But it will take more than that to hurt this body, and we both know that wouldn't really kill me, now would it?" Ego brought his eyes back up to Peter, quirking an eyebrow and tossing a lazy wink at his son, before returning his attention to the Ravager captain, his composure regained.
"Well, isn't that just the way'ah you roaches;" Yondu spat. "The nastiest ones are always the hardest to kill."
"Funny," Ego drawled. "I was just thinking the same thing..."
Yondu sucked in a sharp breath, but before he could let out his next whistle a concussion rocked through the air and Ego was blown back like a rag-doll, slamming into the simple railing that divided the audience from the open space in the middle of the makeshift trial. There was a ripple of shock and shouts of surprise around the room, but no one else seemed to have been hurt. When Ego stood back up a moment later, there was a hole blown wide in his chest, the core light that supported his false body flickered and shimmered like an exposed wire. The shadows of ribs and organs rippled underneath.
How will this do for 'more?' Came a familiar ringing in Peter's head.
Cosmo must have slipped in while Peter was watching Yondu and Ego fight. To be honest, Peter had been so thoroughly distracted by the appearance of his father, that he probably wouldn't have noticed if the whole ship had crumbled apart around him. Now, the portion of the crowd towards the exit parted to reveal the cosmonaut dog, standing proudly with his tail flagged high and a blinding white light burning in his eyes.
"Now," Ego murmured, staring openly at the dog as he brought one hand up to grope at the mangled remains of his chest. "That is surprising."
"Cosmo!" Peter greeted, shoulders sagging with relief as the odds tipped clearly in their favor now.
"Cosmo?" Ego echoed, still eyeing the newcomer through narrowed eyes. "What a strange creature...But you're not a Celestial. Not a real one..."
Perhaps, Cosmo's voice rumbled through Peter's mind as his muzzle split open into a panting, toothy smile, his lips pulled up to display his long curved canines. But Ego should still be careful. Ego is long way from home, and long way from source of power. And Cosmo's Light burns from within his own blood.
Whatever Cosmo's cryptic words meant, Ego was clearly displeased by them. A sneer pulled at the corner of his mouth and the curiosity on his face melted into annoyance.
"I am not here to argue dynamism with some abomination," he sniffed, turning his attention around towards the Council and pointedly turning his back on Cosmo. "I came to see my son with my own eyes, and to lay my offer on the table, and I believe I have accomplished both feats. If you would like to discuss my terms in less-" Ego swept one arm out to encompass the room and its inhabitants. "-hostile air... your fleet will find no danger in the open stars beyond my planet. I believe I can make these terms beneficial for all of us, and am willing to allow certain... precautions to be taken against what you may construe as hostile actions."
Satisfied with his speech, he dropped his arm back to his side and granted Peter his attention once more. "Please do consider the well fare of your companions carefully," he said through a winning smile before turning back to Cosmo with a clap of his hands. "Now, I believe you were intending to send me back home the express way?"
Cosmo's eyes lit brighter and the hole in Ego's chest quivered in answer. The edges of his false body broke off and crumbled inward much like when Gamora's false memories had been toppled. Ego was still grinning as the last of his features were devoured by the light within, his haunting blue eyes, bright with triumph, boring into Peter until they finally winked out.
-x-
Peter sat on the floor in the hallway of the Containment Unit, slumped forward miserably, with his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around them. His chin rested on his folded arms as he stared silently forward into Rocket's cell, lost in his own thoughts as Rocket glared back, entirely unrepentant for the trouble he had caused. Peter hadn't even bothered trying to speak with him since he had woken.
The assassins and Rocket had been thrown back in their cells as soon as the clamor of Ego's vanishment died down. Peter had followed them back, with much shouting, and now sported a shiny new bruise on his cheek from when a corpsmen had loudly and repeatedly suggested replacing Rocket's muzzle. Things had led to a quick but brutal fistfight which only ended when Marlowe fired her weapon at their feet to force them apart, and promised the next fight would be ended much more decisively.
Peter wasn't sure where Cosmo or the rest of the Guardians had gone off to. He had lost them somewhere in the ensuing chaos. It was just him in the Unit with his incarcerated friends now. Not even a Nova Corpsmen had stayed behind as escort. He had finally been let alone with his companions, for all the good it did him now. Peter was suspicious, however, that they had locked the main door behind them when they left.
At his side, in her own cell, Nebula sat on the floor as well. She was fiddling with her mechanical arm just a few inches away, so close that he could easily make out all the details of her enhancement as she worked to repair the damage Rocket's sharp teeth and raking claws had done. Closer, he thought somewhat uncharitably, than she would ever sit if it wasn't for the thick glass wall dividing them. In the silence, punctuated only by the noises of Nebula's repairs, Peter's eyes would drift from the ring-tailed subject of his ire, to the deep grooves that had been cut through the sturdy metal of her enhancement.
"That's a lot of damage." The comment slipped from between his lips before he realized what he was doing. Nebula didn't pause in her ministrations. "I'm surprised he didn't loose a tooth."
"Of course not,." Her reply was breezy. "They're enhanced."
"Enhanced?" Peter echoed, not moving from his slump.
"There's no point in enhancing a jaw if the teeth are just going to break under the pressure," she snorted, like this should be obvious. Maybe it should. Peter didn't think about enhancements all that much.
They fell back into silence for a while before Peter broke it again.
"So they're fake?" The thought of Rocket with a pair of dentures was almost enough to break through his desolate state.
"No. They're his original teeth, but carbo-enhanced. Like all his skeleton is."
"Oh... Are yours...?"
"Mine are more 'fake.'" She paused to frown at a panel in her wrist that was being difficult about sliding back into place. "They were developed with my own DNA, then implanted. When I was young my father had my jaw enhanced, along with the rest of my bones, without considering my teeth, and I shattered them when my weapon backfired and my muscles seized."
"Really?"
"You didn't honestly think I could take that direct hit from the fox's cannon and keep all of them if they were real?"
"Rocket," Peter corrected idly. "And it's a Hadron Enforcer."
"A what?" The difficult panel finally slid back in place and she looked up long enough to give him a sidelong glance.
"A Hadron Enforcer. It's what that weapon's called. He nearly blew me and Gamora and the entire crew of the Eclector up with it our first day together."
Another long silence reigned. This time it was Nebula who broke it.
"Three of Gamora's teeth are fake."
"Nebula!?" Gamora shouted from where she had been reclining on her mattress ignoring them thus far. A grin tugged at the corners of Nebula's mouth even as she pretended not to hear her sister and continued to work on her arm. Clearly, her sister's distress was just the result she'd been hoping for.
"Really?" Peter lifted his head from his arms to get a better look at Nebula, trying to tell if the younger assassin was messing with him or not.
"Really," she confirmed. "In one of our combats I broke her jaw and shattered them so far beyond repair not even father's best men could salvage them." There was a smug, self-satisfied quality to her smile as she recanted the short tale. Behind her, Gamora was looking increasingly upset, almost scandalized, her lips pursed into a tight, disapproving frown.
Through the heavy blanket of misery, Peter felt the beginnings of a smile bubbling up from within at the strange sisterly teasing, and when he settled his chin back down on the pillow of his arms his head felt just a bit clearer.
"Things aren't looking so good are they?" he sighed.
That garnered no answer from Nebula as she twisted a stray wire between her fingers. Statements of the obvious rarely did from her.
"What do you think we should do?" He asked, throwing the question into the air between them in hopes she would have any wisdom to offer. Maybe some secret plan she'd been holding out on that didn't involve too much violence... Dwelling on the problem alone was just tiring him out and winding his nerves into a bundle.
"I think you're in a better position to weigh our chances of survival against these threats," she answered, closing one small panel on her wrist and opening a larger one. "These Nova corps are a pain in the ass, and I'd love to wipe those smug smiles off of their faces by exposing their terrible containment methods for how weak they are, but I'd hate to have to eliminate too many of them on the way out, and cripple their efforts against my father."
Peter chewed on his lower lip as the image of the carnage that a full on battle between the Guardians and Nova Corps would entail rose to his mind. It was strange having her just pass the decision on to him, though. He'd grown so used to relying on Nebula for guidance and direction in this crooked universe, that her not providing him with any sort of clear answer was like suddenly losing one of his senses.
"So you think I should trust my dad and take his offer?" Just saying it made his stomach twist and fill with acid.
"There's a difference between trusting someone and using them."
"Oh." Peter's lip was going to be bruised at this rate. He turned back towards Rocket's cell, but instead of returning to his glaring match with the raccoon, he just stared into the transparent eyes of his own pathetic reflection staring back at him. At his reflection's side, feint flashes of light danced and shivered where Nebula's augmentations caught the light as she worked. "Hey, Nebula... Do you tr-?"
His question was cut off by the sound of the main door unlocking and opening with a little swish. So they had locked it. Marlowe herself entered, a tablet held tight in one hand. Peter stayed where he was, but straightened as respectfully as he could from his slouch as she approached. He hadn't forgotten how readily she had sprung headfirst into what would have been a very deadly battle to protect Saal, nor did he forget that she very likely still had her weapon concealed somewhere on her, and was more than willing to use it. In this universe and the last, he had only really known her under the title and duties of secretary, and so that's where his mind had unconsciously categorized her and filed her away, but the reality was that she was a soldier. And a high-ranked one at that. She wouldn't hold this title if she wasn't skilled, determined, and loyal.
Drax and Groot appeared behind her, entering quick on her heels.
"Hey," Peter greeted. "Where have you guys been?"
"Continuing to plead your case," Drax rumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down his nose at Peter, obviously disappointed in his supposed leader's actions.
"My case?" Peter blinked up at Drax. "I didn't realize the trial was still going."
"Nova Prime and the Council are doing their best to salvage things and calm the crew, but they were understandably shaken." Marlowe didn't look very shaken herself. She looked pissed. "We're here to see if you had reached a personal decision over your father's offer. After careful thought, the Prime would encourage you to take it."
"You want to let me go?" Peter asked in surprise. "You're not worried about triggering the Expansion?"
"Of course we are," she scoffed, "but there are precautions we can put in place with the means currently at our disposal to ensure it doesn't happen, or to stop it if it does, though I don't think we could make any promises to save you all if those things came to pass." She didn't look too sorry about that right now. "Nova Prime thinks it would be best if you weren't so close to the crew for the time being. Tensions are high and emotions are overcoming judgment. Putting you at a distance may give some people the time they need to calm down and make a more rational decision in the end, and..." Marlowe's court heels made tiny clicks against the hard floor as she shifted uncomfortably. "The sooner you make some distance the better. Nova Prime still believes we need you."
"This is all what Saal thinks," Peter murmured, meeting her hardened eyes carefully. "What do you think?"
Marlowe somehow managed to further stiffen her already rigid posture. She was beginning to resemble a statue outside of a courthouse, looming over him with chiseled eyes that pierced right through him and promised atonement for his wrongdoings.
"I think your friends have taken a lot; from me personally, from the people I love- those few who remain alive- and from countless others. I think they're getting off easy. A fake apology and a half-assed promise to do better isn't doing much good for anyone. But," Marlowe seemed to suddenly deflate; her rigid mask crumbling and bits of self-doubt and misery leaking through, "if Irani were here, she would say 'that's just the kind of narrow-minded thinking that led us to this disaster to begin with. 'Only a fool would rather see an enemy punished than an ally gained.'"
"You really looked up to her, huh?" Peter asked softly.
"She was my mentor, my best friend, everything I ever admired, and now, thanks to your 'friends' here, she's gone."
"I am sorry that she's dead."
Peter twitched in surprise at the uncharacteristically subdued voice from over his shoulder. Marlowe seemed to be caught off-guard as well, staring over Peter with eyes made bright with grief and unshed tears.
Nebula was still fixated on her arm, but the words had been clear, oddly devoid of sarcasm, and held a small note of sincerity that hadn't been present in the terse apology she'd given during the trial.
"It sounds like she really was a stubbornly just and effective leader. A rarity in this existence." Nebula continued, testing the flex of her fingers. "To succesfully rule an army of that scale is no small feat. It's a shame she is no longer here to stand in opposition of the Titan. I'm sure Thanos would have hated her."
Marlowe opened her mouth but nothing came out. After a moment, she closed it, then opened it again. "I'm sure he would have."
-x-
Peter allowed himself to be gathered up like some wayward kid playing hooky and ushered back to the meeting, or what was left of it. The earlier room had been abandoned in favor of a smaller room further down the same hallway. This one more closely resembled a private office, and only allowed a handful of people to squeeze in. Whether that was because only so many remained brave enough to focus on the trial, or the room had been chosen specifically to limit the number who could could attend remained a mystery to Peter. A pair of armed corpsmen stood guard outside the door. Peter tried not to feel the heat of their glare on his back as he entered.
Inside the room, Saal again sat behind a large desk. This one was thick and sturdy. It had it's own sort of economical beauty, but was far more utilitarian than the finely polished and lovingly stained desk of the Council. In place of the Council, a handful of decorated officers sat in plush chairs winging off from the desk. There were two on each side, all set to face the front of the desk where an empty chair sat.
The first thing Peter noticed when he searched the faces of the room was that Saal looked tired. He looked exhausted, really, as though all the burdens he bore as leader of a crumbling empire were gaining a physical weight which was slowly crushing him. His proud shoulders had the faintest slump to them now as he rested his elbows on the desk, and even the bright ship lights from above couldn't banish the shadows pooled under his eyes, but his voice was strong and commanding when he spoke.
"Star-lord. Please take a seat. It seems I have more questions for you."
It seemed answering endless questions was all he did these days, but any complaints that arose from within him quailed back when faced with the thought of what was to come after they stopped.
The questions were mostly just the Nova Corps digging into even more detail about the expansion and Ego's death. They ranged from questions about his core; what did it look like, what defenses were in place, could Ego move or hide it, to questions regarding Peter's own loyalty and what kind of 'talents' he could gain by staying there. Peter didn't much know, himself. As some of the decorated officers -one of which Peter thought he recognized from his timeline as one of Irani's nephews- speculated about what these may be, Peter felt a little like a ship being sent in for upgrades.
"And you are confident that there is no way to escape this living planet?" Centurion Taralin, according to name on her uniform, asked.
"Not unless you leave us a ship." Peter tried to ignore the way the acid in his stomach sloshed about at the thought of being abandoned on Ego's planet. "Ego controls everything on the planet. It is him."
"What about the ship he used to meet with us?" Another Centurion asked.
"According to Mantis- my Mantis- it was another one of his projections, and he was the only one who could fly it. Not even Rocket should be able to manipulate anything there to escape."
Peter couldn't believe, even as the words formed in his mind and slipped from his mouth, that he was laying out a case to be left on Ego's planet. The words passed over his lips like burrs and he had to resist the urge to bite down on them.
The little meeting proceeded in a predictable pattern from there. Every time the faux council met eyes and nodded in approval to each other after one of his answers, Peter felt himself slipping further and further over the edge of a cliff that would throw him right into the gaping jaws of his darkest nightmares.
By the time the questions ended Peter was slumped miserably in his seat, eyes glued to the scuffed and worn tips of his boots, and fingers fiddling absently with the edges of his chair.
"Alright." Saal's sudden pronouncement woke Peter from the desolation he had been drifting away into. "We have what we need. Peter,"
Peter dragged his eyes up to meet the Nova Prime who was staring back with a surprising amount of patience in his tired eyes. It was the first time the Nova Prime had called him anything but Star-lord.
"Are you willing to accept Ego's offer to hold your companions in incarceration? Keeping in mind, that in light of recent events I cannot guarantee your crew's safety on this ship. And I am not willing to let them go free."
Peter felt like he was drowning, his throat crushed tight so no air could pass in or out. At Peter's silence, Saal's eyebrows raised slightly, but he made no other move to hurry him along in his decision. The thought of stepping foot on that cursed planet again-of Ego's smug smile when he knew he'd won- made something inside of him thrash and shudder like it was in the throes of a violent death. But the thought of his friends suffering some terrible fate for his own cowardice made another piece of him scream out in violent protest.
He knew what the answer was. Had known what decision he would make for a long time now, but pulling the words to his lips was still like splitting himself in half.
"Yes," he forced out, not sure if he was choking on hate, or rage, or fear, or love, or some awful slurry of a thousand other unnamable emotions. "I'll go."
"Alright," Saal said with a nod of his head. "Then let's get to work."
End
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Chapter 8 Preview: "...A heavy hand settled on Peter's shoulder. As he twisted his head to shoot Drax a surprised look he heard the sound of the other cell door opening and weapons being readied.
"Hey!" He shouted, but the hand held him firmly in place..."
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Yay! I got it up on time this week (barely)! Most of it was written in the car while driving to and from vacation, but I still got it done.
I finally get to write Ego for real. I always worry when a new character is introduced, so hopefully I can pull him off. I really love his character, and so far writing him has been very fun. He's so smug and full of it, and in his own world of immortal concerns and goals. He can never be trusted and that's just such a kick to get to play around with.
Cosmo has the upper hand away from Ego's core, since Cosmo is his own power source, but if they were to fight on his planet things might change. Ego has significantly more raw power, but it's limited when he's working through a projection. I have no plans right now to have a full-blown celestial battle between them, but it's a fun thought.
And I hope no one's getting tired of Peter and Nebula's little talks. They're always some of my favorite scenes, but I try not to let them take over the story too much. Nebula's getting pretty good at cheering him up, too. 'One of us has to have hope for the future, and it's not going to be me, so buck the f*ck up.'
Finally... I realized I have been writing some of the dialogue tags wrong this entire time. I am sorry! I am working to fix the habit, and have added it to my list of things to fix when I go back and edit the last book. Please, never be afraid to point out any grammar issues you notice! I appreciate the help.
Thank you again and again for continuing to read!
And especially thank you for the reviews. They always warm my heart and keep me smiling like a fool all day!
~OMaM