Drax leapt up, wrapping his arms around the Accuser’s legs. He yanked her down, grinning fiercely, and smashed her to the cracked-dry ground.
The Accuser twisted her Universal Weapon into place. This time, Drax was prepared. He knew when to expect the blast, and how to use it to his advantage. The Accuser was correct that his knives would not pierce her armor in head-on combat.
They had other uses, however.
Drax stuck his knives into the creases of the Accuser’s armor along her sides, between layered segments. The blades couldn’t crack through and hurt her, but he only needed them jammed tight. He clung to the handles, braced himself—
The blast knocked him away, sending his head spinning. He landed on hot, sun-drenched ground, so far away it took him a moment to find the others. There: Kiya, running toward him. There: the Accuser. The sun outlined an irregular silhouette, dipping harshly into her sides, precisely where he’d stuck his blades behind segments of her armor. The force of her blow had been enough to yank off pieces of her armor with it—just as he’d planned.
“Ha!” he cried.
The blast had also peeled off half the skin on Drax’s shoulder. That part was inconvenient.
“Drax! Are you all right?” Kiya ran up beside him. “Can we outrun her?”
“I do not run,” he scoffed. “Unless it is toward my opponents. Then I run extremely fast.”
Kiya tossed his arm over her shoulder, helping him to his feet. “What about the car?”
“Who are you, young one?” The Accuser came floating their way. Almost absently, she raised her hammer, creating another energy shield to ward off any surprise attack. “You aren’t in my system. But given who you’re associating with, I have reason to bring you in for scrutiny. As for you…” She turned to Drax and gestured at the damaged armor on her sides. “This? This will not bring me down.”
“I agree,” he said. “That will come after I take your hammer.”
Drax bolted forward. Behind him, Kiya said something, but he was too far away to hear. He collided with the Accuser again, then again, taking and doling out blows, laughing wildly, knocked away and blocked and slashing and spinning around and coming back for more.
She was tough. He had expected no less from an Accuser; he would have been disappointed otherwise. It did not matter, though. He did not need—or even want—to kill her. Simply to disable her long enough for them to get away.
“Wait!” Kiya yelled.
Drax and the Accuser were face-to-face on the ground. His arm was stretched out, holding her weapon hand in place, the hammer an inch away in the dirt. The Accuser held up her free arm, pressing her elbow into his throat to prevent him from bearing down on her further.
Kiya ran at them. “I talked to the other Guardians—an Accuser came at them, too. Drax, communicate with your colleagues, will you?”
Drax turned to look at her. Then back at the Accuser beneath him.
“Drax?” Quill said in his ear. “Drax, stop fighting. We’ve reached an understanding.”
“You have encountered an Accuser, as well?”
“Yeah, but we’re good. Ka-Lenn informed him about our, you know, agreement. Where Ka-Lenn hired the Guardians to help with security for tonight’s event.”
“I know about no such—”
“Oh my god stop talking,” Quill groaned.
“Drax, just pretend,” Gamora said.
“Our…agreement,” he repeated dubiously.
The Accuser, still on the ground under him, was speaking into her armor—presumably with the Accuser the other Guardians had met.
“Look, as long as we formally apologize to the Elder Council for our interference at Levet, they’ll let us help Ka-Lenn for the ceremony, and we’ll figure out our, uh, trial after.”
“We have nothing to apologize for.”
Quill heaved a sigh for reasons Drax could not determine. “Just let the Accuser follow along as you drop off Kiya. Then come down here together, okay? We’ll do all the talking, apology-wise.”
The Accuser finished her conversation at the same time as Drax. They stared at each other.
“This does not mean you win,” Drax told her.
“It doesn’t mean you win, either, Destroyer.”
“Hm.” He released her arm and climbed to his feet. “I was close, however. We can determine the winner another day.”
“I am Sor-Vall the Accuser, and I do not fight over petty reasons or pride. I fight for the glory of the Kree Empire.” She picked up her weapon, used it to push herself upright. “Also, you were not remotely close.”
THE CAR still worked.
They rode along in silence, the Accuser following in the air behind them. Drax felt somewhat uncomfortable leading her straight to the location where he would soon leave Kiya and the Grootlings by themselves. The Collector would pay well for that information, but Drax knew he could trust the Accuser not to sell them out. One could say a lot about the flaws of the Kree Empire, but their Accusers were honorable to a fault.
“You’re not in pain?” Kiya asked.
“Some.”
“You don’t look it.” She watched him thoughtfully from the passenger seat. “In those tunnels on DiMave, you said you lost your family. You’re a father, aren’t you?”
Drax did not answer immediately. “Yes.”
“I thought so.”
“Why?” His eyes narrowed.
“When we were about to collide with the Accuser,” she said, “you put your arm in front of me. My parents used to do that. It’s a…very dad thing to do.”
“I see.”
She was silent for a moment. “A daughter?”
“Yes.”
Fortunately, she did not ask further. The story of his family was complicated, and he did not see why it was relevant. It was clearly unrelated to their present situation or interactions.
“That fight was impressive to watch,” she said. “I didn’t realize anyone could go toe-to-toe with an Accuser. And you took on Tivan, too.”
“Gamora and I did that together.”
“I can fight, but I couldn’t take on an Accuser.” She peered up at the Accuser flying overhead, as though wondering whether her words would reach so far. “I couldn’t help you just now. I need to be better. I need to defend myself. Will you teach me?”
“No.” He peered sideways. “Ask Gamora.”
Gamora was a better teacher than Drax, adept in more fighting styles than he knew existed. And she would be happy to teach Kiya—he knew that without needing to ask. Whether Kiya would be happy to be taught by Gamora was a different matter. He expected a horrified reaction, a knee-jerk no, but instead Kiya sat in silence for the rest of the ride.
When they reached the ship, she started to exit the car. Then, with one foot already out the door, she turned to face him. All at once, her next words rushed out: “I—thank you, Drax.”
He stared at her, expressionless. “Thank me for what?”
“For not pushing. Letting me be.” She looked determined. “The others all want something from me, good or bad. I get why. But it’s nice to just be.”
“I see.” Perhaps Kiya did talk more than he liked.
Or perhaps she just said things he did not know how to respond to.
“Destroyer,” the Accuser called impatiently from above.
“I must leave,” he informed Kiya.
Kiya stepped out of the car and leaned into the window. Her voice was all urgency. “Good luck with those Accusers, and with finding Baran. Thank you for—trying to solve the problem I caused.”
“We do not need luck,” he said. “We are extremely skilled.”
“I’ve noticed that.” She stepped back, the Guardians’ ship looming behind her.
Drax nodded at Kiya. Then he tore off with the car, the Accuser following from the sky, leaving Kiya and the ship behind them.
38
I DON’T know if I can save your asses a third time,” Ka-Lenn said, standing in the mass
ive courtyard outside the complex, “so try not to cause any intergalactic incidents when you apologize to the Council for Levet. Please.”
“Psh! Us?” Quill said. “We’ll be fiiine.”
“We cause intergalactic incidents over breakfast,” Gamora told him.
“Yeah, and it’s always a blast, so I’m not seeing the problem,” Rocket said. “Have fun with that junk apology, guys.” He wasn’t exactly crushed about the group splitting up: As far as Rocket was concerned, that apology sounded boring as flark. The other Guardians were always saying Rocket wasn’t “diplomatic” enough to go near government officials, anyway.
The Accusers had demanded a formal apology before letting the Guardians roam the complex freely with Ka-Lenn. At first, they’d demanded that the entire team be present. But with Drax still away, Groot out of commission, and Ka-Lenn insisting he needed Rocket right now to look at an urgent-yet-routine security matter, they’d eventually agreed that only Quill and Gamora would accompany the Accuser to the Vadin Supreme Elder Council. Ka-Lenn had reassured the Accuser that he would contact him if necessary.
“This way.” Ka-Lenn led Rocket through the open courtyard, past people preparing for the ceremony and a handful of privates on guard. The guards’ eyes went to the massive gun dangling from Rocket’s hip, then to Ka-Lenn walking by his side.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Rocket told them. “I’m entering your precious building. Any of you got a problem with that?”
None of this felt right without Groot. It hadn’t felt right at the hospital, having to actually run from guards instead of letting Groot smack them down, and it didn’t feel right here. The guards only looked disgruntled instead of staring at Groot in abject, delightful terror.
Rocket missed that terror.
Although maybe if he pulled that blaster on them, he could still cause a little bit of—
“You’re really not helping.” Ka-Lenn looked pained.
“Why? What’s the problem?” Rocket said.
He didn’t answer.
“That’s real enlightening.” At least he could ditch Ka-Lenn once the guy got him security clearance. Rocket followed him to a building with the words Porovi Hall stretched out in tall, sober Kree lettering over its curved walls.
“I hope you all appreciate what I’m risking to help you.”
“Not really,” Rocket said. “So what do you do, anyway?” He watched as Ka-Lenn swiped his fingers by the door, stood still for a full-body scan confirming his identity, and demanded full guest clearance from the building AI, allowing Rocket access with guns and all. “You seem like a big deal.”
“I’m on the Supreme Science Council.” The door slid open, and the two of them walked inside.
“You guys sure like your supremacy, don’t you?”
“We do. It’s everyone else who seems to have a problem with it.”
Rocket snickered. Kree were the worst.
He studied the building as they passed through, focusing on security. There was a lot of equipment, but he couldn’t tell whether any of it was working. Even the most advanced security systems usually emanated noise, whether from the movement of a scanner or a high-pitched hum most species couldn’t hear. He’d picked it up on the system outside. In here? Nothing.
Ka-Lenn tried to call his contact inside again. Just like when he’d tried in the car: No use. A second person in the building did answer, saying they hadn’t seen either Ka-Lenn’s contact or Baran; a third person, in the security hub, also didn’t answer.
“Well, that ain’t worrying at all,” Rocket remarked.
They picked up their pace, half-running toward the central security hub. “If something’s wrong, the alarm should’ve gone off,” Ka-Lenn said. “I’ll check with central comms to see if anyone is in contact with security.”
“And tip them off? Don’t even think about it. Besides, odds are Baran’s crew got into your communication system, as well. It really ain’t that hard.”
“I would like to see you try.” He slid open the door to the hub.
“That a challenge? ’Cause if you got time after this, I could—aw, man, corpses.”
Rocket made a face as they stood in the doorway to the security hub. Four Kree—one blue, three pink—lay slumped against the left wall, looking pretty spectacularly dead. Their bodies were covered with scorch marks and what appeared to be stab wounds—this definitely wasn’t the Grootling’s doing. It looked like Baran’s people weren’t afraid to get their own hands dirty.
Gross, Rocket thought. Murder was way less fun when you weren’t the one responsible.
The rest of the room looked empty: a long stretch of terminals on one side, several desks placed in a circular pattern, and a central screen featuring dozens of security-camera feeds—
Or it was supposed to show those feeds, anyway. Rocket had broken into enough of these places to recognize the setup. Usually the screens only showed that blank, transparent fizzle after he was done—not before.
“Yeah, whatever they’re doing, it’s in full swing.” So much for Quill’s hopes of getting to Baran early. Rocket brought a hand to his ear. “Hey, Quill? You free to talk?”
“Give me one minute—our Accuser friend is escorting us to a waiting room. He’s about to formally request an audience with the Council.”
“Naw, no need, just listen. Can I talk?” You never knew when people were listening in.
“Go for it.”
“Sweet. So, hey, we got dead folks.”
“Really?” Quill kept his voice amicable, but it wasn’t hard to detect the sudden tension.
“Yeah, four dead Kree in the security hub. Baran’s in motion. If you have to, scratch that apology—we’ve got priorities.”
“Gotcha. Have fun.”
“Always.” Rocket hopped into one of the seats in front of the terminals. “Ka-Lenn, get me into the system, will you?” Asking someone else to log him into the system the boring way spoiled some of the fun—but then again, bossing around a high-ranking Kree wasn’t half bad.
Ka-Lenn was kneeling by the Kree—checking for vital signs, Rocket guessed. Cute, that kind of optimism. Once he’d confirmed the bodies to be dead, Ka-Lenn rose and joined Rocket at the terminals, tapped rapidly at the keypad, and made a few swipes at the screen to confirm.
“Good. You wanna do a sweep of the room?” Rocket made a vague gesture at the rest of the security hub—there were plenty of terminals and desks for Ka-Lenn to check while Rocket did his job.
Ka-Lenn looked unimpressed, but didn’t object. He knew he was better off helping the Guardians. “Drax’s encounter with the other Accuser,” he said, slowly making his way across the room. “How much do you know about what happened?”
“What now?”
“What was the Accuser’s response to Kiya? Did she get a…good look at the girl?”
“Why’re you asking?”
“There’s a reward. The Accuser could sell her out to the Collector.”
“You ever met an Accuser?” Rocket wasn’t exactly the trusting type, but worrying about Accusers selling out semi-innocent teen girls seemed pointless.
“I only want to make sure she’s safe.”
That sounded real likely.
Rocket scratched at his chin, digging his fingers nice and deep into the fur, as he worked the terminal. First priority: restore the camera feeds. If he could spot Baran—or the Grootling—that’d make their job easy.
Problem was, he was dealing with DiMavi, who were obnoxiously good at what they did. It wasn’t as easy as flipping a switch back on. He couldn’t even find the cameras in the system. They’d hidden the references to the point that—
“Actually, hold on.” Rocket stood abruptly upright in the chair. In a split second, he had his blaster pointed at Ka-Lenn halfway across the room.
Ka-Lenn had been glancing under a desk. He looked up, unblinking, looking somewhere between surprised and offended. “Excuse me?”
“Why do you care, huh? About
the girl?”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Well, you seem more concerned about risking your job than kicking off a war, so you don’t strike me as a fuzzy ‘all life is sacred’ type.” He narrowed his eyes. “Heyyy. Quill?”
“I can talk freely now,” Quill said. “Do you have an eye on the Addil Hall basement yet—anything suspicious near that prayer thing? What’ve you got?”
“I got a rat, is what I got. Ka-Lenn seems awful worried about Kiya.”
“Go on.”
“Spe-ci-fically, he’s worried about that Accuser selling her out. I bet it’s ’cause he doesn’t want competition for the reward. And the way he convinced you to send Kiya back—I’m thinking he wants her away from us to make it easier for the Collector to grab her. We already know they’re buddies.”
“This is completely—” Ka-Lenn began.
“I’m talking here,” Rocket said, wagging his gun at him. “Don’t be rude, man.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so worried about Kiya, Rocket,” Gamora said in his ear.
“You forget she ain’t alone on that ship?” The Collector wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to grab the Grootlings, if he had a chance. “So? Can I shoot this guy or what? Ehhh, I’m gonna shoot him.” He held the trigger, letting the gun charge up.
“Wait, what did he say?” Quill sounded thoughtful. “Exactly?”
Rocket repeated the words impatiently.
“You’re right. It’s suspicious.” He took a few moments to talk it over with Gamora. “I hate to do this, but…”
Rocket grinned. “But I won’t?”
39
NOW, KA-LENN, I want you to listen real close…” Rocket said.
A moment later, he shut off the connection.
Good. Peter didn’t need to listen to the rest. Rocket was enjoying this way too much.
“I didn’t like this situation to start with,” Gamora said, staring at the courtyard through a massive curved window. “It just got worse.”
“Worried about Kiya?”
She turned to meet Peter’s eyes. She didn’t need to answer, and he didn’t need to reassure her. Gamora knew as well as he did that Kiya had the Grootlings, the ship, and her own skills; the Guardians could do nothing for her beyond that. The best move they could make was to prevent her fellow DiMavi from making a colossal mistake and dooming her planet to the fury of the Kree.
Guardians Of The Galaxy: Collect Them All Prose Novel Page 24
