“Excuse me?” The Kree looked more annoyed than threatened, even with several guns pointed at or past him. “Which one of you is in charge? You? Okay.” He flicked a holo card to the guard; it stopped in midair, hovering between them. “I’m telling you to hold on. I need to talk to the girl.”
The guard pointed her gun at Rocket. “We caught that one trying to disable security.”
“Whaaaat?” Rocket said. “Me? Naw! Big misunderstanding.”
“And those two”—she glared at Kiya and Peter in turn—“shot at us.”
“That’s nice,” the Kree said. “Read the card and shut up.”
Reluctantly, she plucked it from the air. After a moment, she nodded. She didn’t look pleased about it, though. “I apologize, sir. Can we have the other two?”
“Nope,” Kiya said. “They’re with me.”
The Kree shrugged. “You heard her.”
“Can we have them when you’re done?”
“Maybe. Depends on how this goes. Feel free to guard the room if that makes you feel better.” He made a shooing gesture, then looked at Peter. “In or out?”
“In.” Peter stuck his tongue out at the guards. “Hi. So who are you, exactly? Can we take a look at that card?”
“Kai-Lenn, right?” Kiya said.
“Ka-Lenn,” the man corrected her as he closed the door.
Peter did a check of the room, clamping one hand over his injured shoulder. Ten beds. Privacy sheets hovered between them, blocking them off into neat sections. Only a few sheets were transparent, revealing sleeping or half-awake Kree and DiMavi, the front of their beds displaying readings of their vitals. Two beds were empty.
Across from them, by the windows, stood a single doctor. Her hands gripped the back of a chair as though she was considering using it as a defensive weapon against the group. Peter nodded at her in a way he hoped was reassuring.
Ten beds, two of them empty. Reports had mentioned nine victims. One of them either hadn’t made it, or was elsewhere in the hospital.
“Ka-Lenn is one of my buyers,” Kiya said. “His Groot was the last one on my list, after Baran’s.”
Peter turned back just in time to see Ka-Lenn’s gaze flit over to the doctor, as if checking her reaction to Kiya’s words.
So Ka-Lenn didn’t want anyone to know he’d bought a Groot. Noted.
“And he’s also…owner of this hospital?” Peter guessed. “A part-time Kree Accuser? Local teen idol? How’d you get them off our back?”
“Doesn’t take much to outrank a hospital security guard,” Ka-Lenn replied.
Military? No, he didn’t have the formal demeanor. Government—Peter was betting government. Between the arrogance, expensive clothes, and access to a secure hospital room, it all fit.
Ka-Lenn turned back to Kiya. “I apparently should be grateful I never pissed you off.” He eyed her rumpled clothing. Kiya’s implant scars were on full display through a torn pant leg and on her exposed arms, making it clear where her strength came from. “How are those treating you?”
“Is that really the issue here?” she asked, not hiding her impatience.
Kiya was trembling, Peter realized suddenly. A shudder in her legs, an inconsistency to her breathing. It could be the pain from her implants—but it felt like something more.
He’d known she could fight.
He’d known she was willing to fight.
It was easy to forget she wasn’t used to it. Not the real thing, outside of whatever training the Collector had put her through.
“You okay?” Peter asked.
She nodded once, tightly.
He could push—but if she was trying to hold it together, he didn’t want to undermine that. The least he could do was take her at her word.
Peter took his hand off his shoulder and grimaced, both at the pain and at the blood coating his palm. He shot a pointed look at Rocket, who’d hopped onto an empty bed and was humming as he checked his blaster. “Lead. The. Guards. Away. It’s four words, man.”
“They blocked the exits, all right?” Rocket grumbled. “Trapped me in the ward. Didn’t even know you were that close.”
“Let me look at that,” the doctor said, recovering from her shock. She nodded at Peter’s injury.
“To the point,” Ka-Lenn told Kiya. “I heard your name and voice in the hallway. I know I’m not the only one you sold the merchandise to. And we know that similar merchandise caused all this. Did you have anything to do with it?”
“I grew it,” she admitted. She kept her voice low so the doctor couldn’t overhear their conversation, but she’d opened a comms line to Rocket and Peter so they could listen in. “But I didn’t have anything to do with the attack. We’re here to fix things. What are you doing here? Aren’t you from Kree-Lar?”
“I’m in town for the ceremony. I heard about an attack by a tree monster. As you can imagine, as a fresh tree-monster owner, that piqued my interest. I thought I’d take a look and ask this helpful doctor what she’s learned so far.”
Kiya had mentioned a buyer from Kree-Lar before. He apparently worked with weaponry of all kinds—from pyrotechnical to biological, magical to robotic—and she’d reached out after seeing him trade with the Collector, assuming he’d want to analyze a Groot up close. She hadn’t mentioned that this buyer was, apparently, in an influential enough position that he could waltz into a secure hospital room in the middle of a potential diplomatic disaster just to sate his curiosity.
“So, you got a Groot?” Rocket stood upright on the empty bed. “How about you give him to us?”
Ka-Lenn glared at him.
“Please keep your voices down,” the doctor hissed. She tended to Peter, numbing and closing up the wound. “These patients need their rest.”
Speaking of the patients… As much as Peter wanted to ask about Ka-Lenn’s Grootling, Baran’s took priority. He stepped toward the beds, then paused, hearing Gamora’s sharp voice in his earpiece.
“You have something?” He held up his good hand, indicating for Ka-Lenn and the doctor to be silent so he, Kiya, and Rocket could hear their comms.
“Nothing on Baran,” Gamora said, “but we know more about the park attack—I think it wasn’t one. It sounds like an accident.”
An accident.
Peter considered that for a second. An accident could be good or bad. If the poison Grootling was a loose cannon, it might make him easier to find.
On the other hand, the one thing worse than a poison Grootling controlled by a terrorist might be a poison Grootling controlled by no one at all. He’d be harder to predict.
“Our witness saw the Grootling escape from a private shuttle mid-flight—a shuttle flying on the surface level, which is apparently suspicious in and of itself. They had been passing by the park. The breakout startled another driver and caused a crash. The shuttle turned around and landed in the park. Several people ran from the shuttle to try to contain the Grootling. Our witness says they seemed panicky. It doesn’t sound planned.”
The Grootling might have tried to escape his handlers mid-transport. Maybe he wasn’t brainwashed—or he’d been fighting it? And where had they been transporting him to?
“What was the species of the people in the shuttle?” Peter asked.
“Our witness couldn’t tell—they had distortion holos around them.”
“Because normal, non-shady people wear distortion holos all the time,” Rocket said.
“When the Grootling was confronted, he seemed to send glitter into the air. She was…very descriptive about the glitter. Must have been the poison spores. It affected several people in the park, and some of the people from the Grootling’s shuttle who’d gone after him. They all dropped and started screaming. Others—wearing the same holos—shepherded the Grootling back inside the shuttle. They bolted before any help arrived on-scene.”
“And you said some of the people from the shuttle got poisoned, too?” Peter asked. If any of Baran’s crew were out of commission, it’d th
row off Baran’s plans.
“At least one got carried into the shuttle, along with the Grootling. Our witness lost track of the others.”
“Got it. Let us know if you find more.”
“Any luck on your end?”
He glanced over the patients. “I’ll let you know.”
35
PETER checked in with Annay over comms to see where she was with regards to finding Baran. He couldn’t help mentioning the accident at the park. The people who crashed the shuttle had been DiMavi, after all.
“There is nothing wrong with our driving skills,” Annay laughed.
“I’m open to being convinced,” Peter said. “Motorcycles, Vadin roads, a drink of your choice after—plan? Plan. Let me know if that contact you’re chasing works out. Ciao.”
“Oh, you’re done?” Ka-Lenn raised his eyebrows. “How nice.”
Peter was tempted to flip him the bird. So he did.
“Sit still,” the doctor demanded, still tending to Peter’s shoulder.
Ka-Lenn flashed Peter the smallest smile. “If you want the specimen I bought, you can purchase it back at the same price. No problem. I have it stored on Kree-Lar. For now—Kiya, what can you tell us about this poison?”
The doctor looked up sharply and gestured around at the hospital beds. “I don’t care how you know or what you did,” she told Kiya. “Just tell us what you can. We need to help these people.”
Kiya nodded—at first hesitantly, then firmly. “Okay. The poison is derived from—”
“The tirrinit tree, yes. We discovered that much.”
“It’s a weaponized form. What kinds of symptoms are the patients showing?”
The doctor joined Kiya over a nearby unconscious patient, the doctor outlining symptoms while Kiya ran through the different effects of the poison. Ka-Lenn stood nearby, listening without interrupting.
Kiya still looked messy from the fight: a cut on her face, her hair a mess, her pant leg torn, her shirt crooked. She seemed to be trembling less, at least. If she knew how she looked, or knew she was being watched, she was too engrossed in the patient to care. Her teeth pressed into her lower lip in worry or guilt.
Peter made eye contact with Rocket, then tilted his head toward the beds across the room. They peered past the privacy screens. Most of the patients were kept in induced comas, as the doctor explained. The pain had been too intense.
Peter counted two Kree, both blue-skinned, and two DiMavi—one of whom seemed awake. A fourth patient—also DiMavi—seemed awake. If you could call it that. He was writhing in his sheets, slowly, as though fighting through sludge. His eyes were open, but Peter couldn’t tell whether he could see anything.
Peter crouched by the bed. “Hi?”
For a long moment, the man didn’t seem to be able to see Peter. Then their eyes met. DiMavi pupils were normally nearly the size of their eyes, but this man’s were pinprick-tiny. He wheezed. “Attack? Was it…?”
“It was an accident.” Peter hoped he wasn’t entirely off the mark.
“Not…targeted?”
“We don’t think so.”
“Embassy. Embassy should know. Tell…” He breathed deeply, seeming to steel himself. “Tell them.”
“You work with them?”
He made a rattling noise that sounded like a yes.
Knowing this victim was a government official of some kind made Peter reconsider whether the attack really had been an accident. On the other hand, there were so many DiMavi officials in town currently, it could have been a coincidence.
Based on Gamora’s discovery, Peter had doubted the victims could provide much information. They hadn’t been targeted, and wouldn’t have seen anything if Baran and his team were wearing distortion holos. They were still the Guardians’ best lead, though. And if this guy was with the embassy, he might be able to help in another way.
Rocket stood behind Peter. He seemed thoroughly grossed out—he’d never liked hospitals. “You know a guy named Baran?”
The man closed his eyes, squirming. He didn’t answer.
The victims weren’t dead; Peter told himself that was a good thing. Baran might not be aiming for lethal.
Looking at someone in pain like this, though, it was hard to see the positive.
From the next bed, a voice croaked. “Hey. Hey. I need…”
Peter stood, swiping away the privacy screen. It turned transparent. A DiMavi woman lay in the bed, her sheets half kicked away, her light-gray hospital clothes wet with sweat. “Show me,” she said, gasping.
Same pinprick eyes.
Same pain.
“Hey! I never said you could talk to my patients.” The doctor crossed the room, glaring at Peter and Rocket. “I need to sedate them. They shouldn’t be awake. DiMavi physiology paired with this toxin…it’s unpredictable.” She turned a worried eye on the patients.
“Show me!” The woman in the bed clawed at the mattress. She was trying to lift her hand, stretching it toward the other DiMavi. No, past him. “I want to see…others…”
“Others?” Peter asked, looking up. “Other patients?”
Ka-Lenn swiped his hands over the privacy screens between the other beds. They faded into nothingness to reveal unconscious Kree.
“Yes,” she rasped.
“Shh, shh,” the doctor said, bowing over the panel on the wall. “It’ll pass soon.”
“Wait.” Kiya joined her by the side of the bed. “Wait one moment…” She bowed and inspected the mottled green skin of the patient’s hands. “The Grootling releases a certain sap—I had these same stains. This woman worked with the Grootling up close. Look: Some marks are faded, some are fresh. These aren’t all from today.”
The woman must’ve been part of Baran’s crew transporting the Grootling. If she’d been left behind by the rest of the team in the chaos, she could have discarded her distortion holo and blended in with the other victims.
Rocket leapt onto the bed and stood by her side with a snarl on his face. “Where is Baran? What’s the plan? Where’s the Groot?”
“Was today an accident?” Peter added.
“Was trying…find the words…Baran…” Her eyes lost focus. She stretched her arm, making an unclear noise.
“Where is he?” Rocket repeated.
“She said she wanted to see other patients,” Peter said. “Why?”
“I’m sedating her,” the doctor snapped. “She’s in pain.”
“We need to ask her—”
Too late. She’d already adjusted the settings. A new, dark liquid coursed through the IV. “And get off my patient’s bed,” she said, glaring at Rocket.
“Heh,” the woman in the bed mumbled. She was still looking at the other patients. “Heh. Works on them. Blue…blue kru…”
Her eyes drifted shut. The outstretched arm slumped down.
“Can you wake her?” Peter said.
“No. And I wouldn’t if I could. Withholding pain management is akin to torture.” Briskly, the doctor walked to the other DiMavi’s bed.
“Baran?” the man slurred. “Why…Baran?”
“He’s behind this,” Peter said, talking fast. “He’ll do worse. He’ll attack the ceremony tonight. Where is he?”
“No…no. That would…war.”
“I don’t think he cares if he starts a war,” Kiya said. “He wants revenge. We need to find him and stop him.”
For the first time, the doctor seemed to hesitate.
“That…d’ast…” The patient turned his head away, taking a moment to breathe. The pain shuddered through his body. His next words were deliberate, louder, as if he wanted to make sure the Guardians would understand. “Right before the park. Baran’s assistant called. Urgent…wanted to move up…inspecting Kree security. For ceremony.” A pause. “What time? Now?”
“We just passed midday,” Ka-Lenn replied.
“Inspection now,” the man mumbled.
So Baran had moved up his plans. “Where?” Peter asked urgently.
/>
The man turned away again. Pressed his face into the pillow. His breathing came fast.
“I can’t watch this,” the doctor said. “I need to—”
“Don’t even think about it. ’Less you wanna end up in one of them empty beds.” Rocket blocked her way to the panel.
She didn’t flinch. “I have a duty—”
“Porovi Hall,” the DiMavi slurred. “Porovi. Porovi Hall. Porovi…”
“Rocket, let the doctor pass,” Peter said.
She adjusted the dosage. The man’s eyes closed; the tension seeped away from his body, letting him sink into the mattress.
For a moment, the five of them were silent.
“I need to check on my other patients.” The doctor backed away.
Peter pinned her down with a look. “You can’t tell anyone what you just heard.”
“If there’s an attack, our military needs to know. They’ll stop it in its tracks.”
Rocket shrugged. “Kree Empire ain’t half bad at what they do. They could help.”
“No. The attack would be bad enough—but this could blow up way beyond that.” Peter indicated the unconscious man in their midst. “He was right.”
Peter had hoped to keep this situation straightforward: Get in, stop Baran, grab the Grootling, and get out without the Kree noticing a thing. If Baran had moved up his plans, that would be a lot harder. Peter knew the Kree well enough to know this situation was a damn powder keg.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Peter stressed. “If the Kree know a DiMavi is using a peace ceremony as an opportunity for an attack… The Kree are too proud. They’ll retaliate.”
Kiya had her arms crossed, her muscles tense. “DiMave couldn’t fight a handful of Kree criminals. We definitely can’t fight the entire Kree Empire.”
“Yeah, your planet’s kinda wimpy,” Rocket said.
“They’ll retaliate,” she said, echoing Peter. “Declare war. Annex us.”
“No, they won’t,” Peter said, “because we’re going to stop the attack, and we’re going to do it before the Kree ever find out there was an attempt. Okay?”
She nodded tightly. “Yeah.”
“Okay?” Peter repeated, this time facing the doctor. “Do Kree doctors take an oath? ‘Do no harm,’ or something?”
Guardians Of The Galaxy: Collect Them All Prose Novel Page 22
