Guardians of the Galaxy: Collect Them All

by Corinne Duyvis

  Kiya looked from the exit to the remaining members of the team. “He seems upset.”

  “I believe he is,” Drax agreed.

  “Wouldn’t he rather be safe?” Kiya asked. “Given how slowly he’s recovering, getting injured again seems like a bad idea. Why does he want to come along on missions so bad?”

  “Same reason the Grootlings keep begging to come along,” Gamora said.

  “Groot is…” Peter waffled for a moment. Kiya had only just come aboard the ship, and even if she hadn’t meant to, she was directly responsible for a whole lot of their current problems. Groot might not appreciate them talking to her about him. As affectionate as the Grootlings seemed toward her, the same hadn’t counted for the real Groot.

  If it helped Kiya to better understand the situation she’d caused, though—and moreover, if it sparked anything in the brainwashed Grootling, still watching them through the hatch—it was worth it.

  “How much do you know about Flora colossi?” he asked.

  Kiya watched Peter as though the question were a trap. “Physiologically, I picked up a lot these past weeks. Practically or culturally, not much.”

  “They’re not all like Groot. Yes, they’re smart, and yes, they’re strong, but they’re also cold. They look down on anyone different. To them, mammals are good for nothing but grunt work and experimentation. Groot didn’t agree. He stood up against them to help mistreated mammals, and, well, he’s not exactly popular on his homeworld now.”

  Gamora stepped in. “He defied his entire species and gave up his home, simply because he cared so much. What the Guardians of the Galaxy do? Traveling the universe, meeting new people, helping those who need it? Groot loves it. He loves getting to be this person—getting to be himself.”

  “Except now…” Peter looked at the Grootling, then at the tray of sproutlings in one corner and an abandoned pot of dirt a sapling must have used earlier. “I think he’s worried that that ‘self’ might not be set in stone anymore.”

  “He does not want to suspend his role on the team,” Drax said. “He feels strongly about this.”

  “He’s scared,” Gamora said. “He’s scared he’s losing everything that made—makes—him him.”

  The room fell silent.

  Kiya worried at her lower lip. Hesitation played across her face, even as the rest of her stood as springboard-tense as ever. When she realized the others were waiting for her to respond, she drew her face back to normal. “I’ll—” she said, blinking. “I’ll find the Grootlings that’ve been helping me test some theories. About merging them.”

  It seemed, for a moment, she might say more.

  Then she walked out, almost tripping over her own feet. She shot back a look at the Grootling stuck behind the force field. Peter could have sworn he saw a flash of guilt on her face.

  It left the four of them behind: Drax, Gamora, Peter, and the trapped Grootling.

  “You remember what I just told Kiya about the Flora colossi, don’t you?” he asked the Grootling.

  The Grootling nodded. His expression was unsure—Peter wasn’t convinced that he’d followed the whole story—but it was a start.

  “I’m sorry about this, man. I am. I’ll reach out to the telepaths we know. In the meantime, let’s just…recover. Are you okay staying in his—your?—quarters for now? We’ll come talk to you.”

  The Grootling sank to the floor on the other side of the force field, wrapping his arms around his legs. He observed the leisure room as if settling in for the long haul.

  “We’ll let you rest,” Peter said. “The other Grootlings could come back in here later. You’d have some company.”

  The Grootling nodded again, not making eye contact.

  The moment they left the room, Peter let out an uneasy breath. “I need a burger,” he groaned. “Even a crappy Zelarian knock-off.”

  “That sounds disgusting,” Drax said. “I will join you. Let us see if Groot will, too.”

  “Gamora?”

  “No,” she said. “I need to find Rocket.”

  21

  IS THIS necessary?” Rocket asked.

  “Yes.” Gamora stalked down the hall of the ship with Rocket in tow. He hustled to keep up. Why did people always forget his legs weren’t exactly lengthy? There was a reason he hitched a ride with Groot so often.

  This time, Groot was hitching along with Rocket. To be more specific, two Grootlings he’d picked up in the cargo bay sat on Rocket’s shoulders. The weirdly violent little one they’d found today was trying to rile up the other one, who was sitting on Rocket’s other shoulder, making occasional worried noises. Their twig-thin legs and hands gripped Rocket’s fur and the straps of his shirt as Rocket bounced after Gamora.

  “Oy! I like my fur where it is, you two!” he said after the 10th time one yanked out a couple of strands by accident. “But Gammy, why are you asking me to help? Far as I’m concerned, Kiya can take a nice long spacewalk with no suit on. Enjoy the sights, do some stargazing, get all that fresh vacuum up in her lungs. Or, hey, I could hand her over to the Collector and get back a pleasant amount of units in the process. I don’t flarking care about her implants.”

  “You should care, because you know what it’s like to be treated like a lab rat,” she said sharply. “I’m asking you because you’re the smartest person on this team with the most tech experience.”

  “Aaaand?”

  “No. That’s all the flattery you get.”

  “All right, fine, I’ll take it,” he grumbled. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to help her.”

  “I do.”

  “It ain’t your fault.”

  “I am Groot,” the quieter Grootling agreed.

  “Is that what you think?” Gamora glanced down at Rocket. For a second, he thought she was angry, but her face skewed closer to amused. “You think I’m doing this out of guilt? That I feel responsible for what the Collector did to her?”

  “You don’t?”

  She stopped in front of the med-bay door, one hand on the handle. “Rocket. I’m responsible for too many things in this universe that I’ve actually done to take on guilt for what I haven’t done. The Collector is responsible. I won’t absolve him of that.”

  So it wasn’t guilt, and it definitely wasn’t business as usual.

  Rocket grimaced. It was the whole Zen-Whoberian, last-of-their-kind thing, wasn’t it? She was getting all attached.

  Gamora slid open the door.

  Kiya sat cross-legged in a chair. On the counter in front of her sat another Grootling, his legs dangling over the side. Kiya was inspecting his shoulder.

  “I am Groot,” he greeted them.

  Kiya sat abruptly upright, then relaxed—marginally—when she saw Rocket and Gamora. Why that would make her relax, Rocket didn’t understand—out of everyone on this ship, he figured they’d be the least welcome. Rocket was the one who’d argued against her presence at every point, and Gamora was her personal bogeyman.

  Maybe Kiya was just skittish.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  Gamora’s reaction was so subtle, Rocket probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t known her so long. He saw the tiny widening of her eyes as she spotted Kiya, and the way she studied her for a few long seconds, as if she was re-familiarizing herself with Kiya’s face. It gave him the heebie-jeebies.

  Yeah. This was definitely about the Zen-Whoberian thing.

  Rocket didn’t like it. And not just because Gamora’s obsession with the girl was the number one reason Kiya was even on board, which made it the number one reason they weren’t going after the Groots in the Collector’s grasp, which—

  She’s fixing Groot, he told himself. He glanced at the Grootlings on his shoulders. Try and remember that part.

  It was better than acknowledging other nagging thoughts. Rocket would never get to stare at anyone the way Gamora got to stare at Kiya.

  “Any progress?” Rocket tried to sound sour, rather than murder
ous.

  “Not sure.”

  He waited for more, but Kiya was silent. “Thassit?” he continued. “That’s what we’re feeding you three meals a day for? All right—the Kiya experiment is over. We tried. To hell with this.”

  Kiya looked down. She breathed deeply in and out, as if she were either steeling herself or trying to convince herself of something. “I’m gathering information for now. That’s how this works. What I have so far is…Flora colossi can easily absorb other plant matter. Absorbing other Flora colossi seems to be different. In this case, at least. They get close—their torsos sometimes fuse together, or their bark shifts and overlaps—but each time, they break apart again before they can merge completely. We need more.”

  No kidding.

  “I have some avenues to explore. I’ve been asking different combinations of Groots to try to merge and taking notes. I’m watching how far they get, how smoothly it seems to go, and studying each individual Groot involved”—she tilted her head at the Grootling sitting on the counter—“to determine if there’s a pattern. I suspect there are physiological factors, maybe related to their current weakness. I’m also studying pieces of bark from when they’re melded for those few seconds, seeing whether the Grootlings actually combine on a cellular level or just grow around each other, what happens with them while they try to merge, whether they’re affected afterward…” She shrugged. “So, like I said: Not sure whether I’ve made any progress. Yet.”

  Rocket stared at her, eyes narrowed. “Hrm.”

  Maybe their food wasn’t entirely going to waste on her.

  “I am Groot?” one Grootling gulped near Rocket’s ear. He guessed that one hadn’t had the pleasure of being part of her little science experience yet.

  “What might happen if the Grootlings try to merge,” Gamora said, “and one of those Grootlings is…damaged?”

  It was the first time she’d spoken since entering the room. It’d taken her that long to get over her mesmerized staring. Or maybe she just hadn’t been sure what to say, which was a weird thought with Gamora of all people. Since Kiya flinched whenever Gamora so much as opened her mouth, though, Rocket kinda understood why Gam might be choosing her words carefully.

  He didn’t like seeing his teammate get all weird about this girl. With everything going on with Groot, Rocket had plenty of weirdness to deal with already.

  “I wish I knew,” Kiya said, not quite looking at Gamora.

  “I am Groot.” The Grootling Kiya was working on wrapped his hands around the edge of the countertop, leaning in slightly. “I am Groot.”

  Rocket grimaced. “I know, buddy.”

  “What did he say?” Kiya asked.

  Gamora answered, “He’s worried about the Grootling we found at the pits today. He’d thought the other Groots were like him. A duplicate, but with the same memories, the same personality. He thought they would all cooperate.”

  “Even if they retain their memories, being raised like that one”—Kiya tilted her head toward the aggressive Grootling on Rocket’s shoulder—“and made to fight in the pits will still mess you up. I noticed it in the greenhouse, too. They’re easily influenced when young. Probably even more so, now that they’re weakening.”

  And whose fault is that, huh? Rocket bit his tongue. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna fix it. It’s the only reason you’re here.”

  “I’m trying.” She turned brusquely toward the Grootling.

  “You’d better. I ain’t keeping you safe for nothing.”

  “You’re keeping me safe, now?” Kiya sounded skeptical.

  “Damn right. Me and Quill, we were talking about sending the Collector false tips. We can mask our signals, say we spotted you on this moon or that planet, and send him scrambling all over the galaxy. It’d drown out whatever real tips he gets. Also, it’d be hilarious. ‘Course, if you don’t want us to…”

  “No!” she said. “No. That…sounds good.”

  “Thought so.” He hopped onto a chair, rummaged through a drawer, and held up a scanner. “Next order of business.”

  “I brought Rocket to run a scan of your implants, see what he can learn about them,” Gamora explained. “He’s smarter than he looks.”

  “And I look like a krutacking genius, so that’s sayin’ something. Let’s get started.”

  Kiya looked struck. “What? Right now?”

  He leapt nimbly to the ground. “I seem like the type you can make an appointment for? Pick a fight with Gamora if you don’t like it.”

  She sat anchored to her chair. She looked to Gamora as if for help, then immediately turned away. “Do I need to…?”

  “Get naked? Lie down? Do whatever gets you going, lady. I’ll just be scanning your leg here.” He took hold of her calf, grumbling. She hissed, hauling it back instantly. She’d hoisted both legs onto her chair and wrapped her arms around her knees before she even seemed to realize what she was doing. She looked down at him, startled, her breathing suddenly sharp and fast.

  “Rocket!” Gamora said. “Slow down.”

  “Eesh. She come with a manual?”

  “Slow. Down. Kiya, do you want someone else here for this? Do you want him to stop?”

  She pressed her lips together, as if she were running through the options. After a couple of seconds, she shook her head. “No. I can do this.” She let the leg dangle down again.

  Rocket pulled it closer with one hand, holding the scanner with the other. She was all shaky. That wasn’t gonna help the readings. He gripped her tighter to hold her still, running the scanner from thigh to ankle, then slowly over her foot. Then he did the same from the other side of her leg.

  “Kiya…?” Gamora said.

  “I said it’s fine!” The moment Rocket let go, she pulled her leg back up. “You need more?”

  He fiddled with the scanner until a holo popped up, showing a nearly transparent version of Kiya’s leg with sharp, thin metal running through nearly every part—a mess of threads and rods and knobs, most of them wrapped with fine sheets of what he suspected was gnitium, or maybe gnitium-reinforced anjar. Curiosity gnawed at him, but he shoved it aside. “All right, got it. I’ll do the rest later if I need it.” He zapped the holo off and jammed the scanner into his pocket. “Groot, I’m going to check on brainwashed evil-you.”

  “I am Groot,” he said.

  “What? I thought it was hilarious.”

  With a cackle, he was out the door.

  22

  SO…HE said what Rocket said wasn’t funny?” Kiya ventured, looking from the Grootling to Gamora. She only held eye contact for a second, then turned away again, leaving Gamora looking at the back of her head.

  Gamora tried to take this as a positive: If Kiya could turn her back to Gamora, she was less frightened than when she’d come on board.

  “Correct.”

  “How do you know? I only hear ‘I am Groot.’”

  “Tone, emphasis, pronunciation, how he breathes around the words. It’s a language like any other.”

  “I am Groot.” The Grootling nodded at Gamora over Kiya’s shoulder.

  Gamora hesitated. “I’m sorry if Rocket was—”

  “I can take it. They did worse to me back at the Collector’s.”

  “Who’s ‘they’?”

  Kiya shrugged gruffly. She was still facing the Grootling rather than Gamora, but had abandoned her inspection. It wasn’t hard to tell where her focus lay. Her entire demeanor screamed it: alert, wary, cautious. “Collector. Associates.”

  Gamora didn’t know how to say her next words—few people had ever said them to her. She knew it was the correct thing to do, though. Rocket was right, and so was Gamora herself: What had happened to Kiya was not Gamora’s responsibility.

  What happened to Kiya next, though—

  Gamora couldn’t help but feel that was different.

  She stepped nearer to the counter, careful to keep her distance but wanting to catch at least a glimpse of Kiya’s face. “If you want to talk about
it…” The words felt cold on her tongue.

  Kiya tensed up.

  “Not to me, if you don’t want to,” Gamora added, already knowing that was the case—and feeling so abruptly twisted about it that it startled her—“but to any of us. We might understand better than you think.”

  “Do you?” Kiya asked stonily.

  Gamora took a moment to find the precise words. “I know what it’s like to be turned into a weapon,” she said slowly. “Peter knows what it’s like to see your mother die in front of you—because of what he is, what his father is—and get sucked into a world you didn’t even know existed. Rocket knows what it’s like to be turned into something you’re not, without your consent. Drax knows what it’s like to lose a family. Groot knows what it’s like to be alone and far, far from the only home you’ve ever known.”

  We’re all broken, she wanted to say.

  We’re a family nonetheless.

  You could be, too.

  She didn’t say it.

  The way Kiya sat—hunched over and still, and with bottled-up anger and fear Gamora couldn’t help but recognize—told her enough. Kiya didn’t want to talk. Maybe she couldn’t talk, not yet.

  There was something else Gamora could do better, anyway.

  “And I can teach you, if it would help. If you want to feel safer.”

  “’Scuse me?” Kiya tilted her body slightly, but still didn’t face Gamora.

  “You’re a good fighter. You can be better. I can help you fight despite the pain. Around it. Because of it.” She tried a smile, a narrow one.

  “No.”

  The smile, narrow as it was, disappeared.

  “He called me by your name, you know,” Kiya said.

  Gamora closed her eyes for a moment. She was not surprised: The extent of Taneleer Tivan’s cruelty could no longer surprise her.

  She still hated to hear the words.

  “I don’t”—Kiya’s words were clipped—“want to be you.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Ever.”

  I don’t want you to be me, either, Gamora thought. Ever.

  Gamora wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It wasn’t what she’d meant—