Marvel's Guardians of the Galaxy

by David McDonald

  “Let me assure you that males have plenty of opportunities for advancement in our world, and one monastery dedicated to women is not going to disadvantage men in any way,” the Abbess said.

  “So, how does Gamora fit in here, then?” Quill asked.

  “When Sister Gamora arrived, she wanted no more than a place of quiet meditation where she could ignore the outside world. Once she became aware of our mission, however, she volunteered to help train our acolytes, and to rescue those who could benefit from our help,” she said. “There are some who aren’t as enthusiastic as we are about seeing young women rescued. Gamora is very good at . . . persuading them.”

  “I bet she is,” Quill said.

  “I know as well as anyone how cruel this universe can be to women, and what it feels like to be powerless,” Gamora said softly. “I saw a chance to make sure that these girls, at least, would escape that fate. But the question is, why are you here, Quill?”

  Quill couldn’t meet her eyes. “I can see why that would be something that makes you feel fulfilled. Now I feel bad for what I’m about to ask,” he said, as he went on to explain the nomad threat and what the Duke had asked of him.

  “Do you know what you are asking of me?” she asked when he had finished. “I have found a place where the skills I was taught for the sake of destruction can be used to bring peace and healing. I don’t know whether I can throw that away.”

  “Sister Gamora, why don’t you take our visitors on a tour of the monastery?” the Abbess asked. “That way, they might get a better understanding of what it is we are doing, and why it is so important to you. I think it will be good for you, too. A reminder.”

  Gamora looked like she wanted to argue, but all she said was, “Yes, mother.”

  Rocket and Quill followed Gamora to the door. The basket that had brought them up from the ground was still waiting, and Gamora unhinged the wooden gate so they could board it. She grabbed a dangling rope and began to pull it down hand over hand. The basket was suspended from an elaborate system of pulley and gears. It looked to Quill as if even a child would have been able to pull up the basket and their own weight—and Gamora was no child.

  As they clambered up onto the plateau above the cliff face, Quill saw that it stretched back hundreds of feet and featured a dozen long, low buildings made of stone. The buildings were arranged around the edges to make way for a wide open space in which scores of children were running through a series of exercises. While they were moving at a deliberate pace, Quill could recognize techniques from some of the most vicious martial arts he’d ever come across. Their execution was flawless, and Quill had no doubt that when they returned to normal speed they would be formidable foes indeed. He wasn’t surprised to see Kasara leading them, either. She had the air of a drill sergeant. Gamora walked over to her and bowed, Kasara returning the courtesy. Quill noted that Kasara bowed just as deeply, which he assumed meant she saw the other woman as an equal.

  “Sister, the Abbess has asked me to show these men what we do here,” Gamora said. “Would you be so kind as to help me give them a demonstration?”

  “I am expected to waste my time on them?” Kasara asked incredulously. Gamora let her vent, and Kasara gradually ran out of steam. “Well, if the Abbess commands it, who am I to argue?”

  Kasara issued a series of commands and the children rapidly moved into a circle with the two women inside, about twenty feet from the nearest child. Gamora beckoned Quill and Rocket over, and they joined the circle.

  “Touch?” Kasara asked.

  “I think so. I don’t want to scare these poor fragile men,” Gamora said, a teasing note in her voice.

  “Agreed. On my mark. Mark!”

  What followed was half dance, half brawl, as beautiful as it was terrifying. Kasara whirled into a perfectly executed spinning back kick, only for Gamora to block her foot inches from her face. She dropped into a leg sweep, knocking Kasara from her feet, but somehow the other woman turned the tumble into a flip that saw her land back on her feet and in position to attack. As she threw a punch, Gamora grabbed her hand and pivoted, twisting Kasara’s arm up behind her back. With a lithe twist, Kasara reversed the hold, and now it was Gamora straining against a brutal arm bar. The advantage seesawed back and forth between the two women, Kasara throwing Gamora over her shoulder, only for Gamora to come bounding back up and drive her opponent back with a series of crescent kicks. There was one last flurry of blows, and then Kasara was on her knees with the tips of Gamora’s rigid fingers digging into the hollow of her throat.

  “I nearly had you that time,” Kasara said.

  “Nearly doesn’t count, sister, not in combat.” Gamora reached down and pulled Kasara to her feet and they embraced. “Well fought, I am proud of you.”

  Kasara laughed. “You should be—you taught me most of the things I tried.”

  “That was incredible,” Quill said as he joined them.

  Gamora smiled at his words, but Kasara gave him a cold glare.

  “I don’t really care what you think,” she snapped.

  Quill flushed, angry despite himself.

  “You’re pretty good in an exhibition, but I wonder why you sent your students against us to do your job for you,” he sneered. “Not so good when it comes to the real thing?”

  Kasara took a step towards him, fists clenched at her side. Gamora reached out and grabbed the other woman’s arm.

  “Don’t be a fool, Quill. Kasara would have loved nothing more than to deal with you herself. Surely you can see that?” Quill had to admit she had a point. “It’s a part of the students’ training to experience real combat. But we don’t let them be part of it until we are certain they are ready.”

  “That’s pretty brutal,” Quill said.

  “It’s a brutal world. And some of them don’t survive. But, would it be better if we sent them back out into it with a false idea of what they were capable of?”

  “I still think it’s a bad idea. They’re only children.”

  “Let me show you their full capabilities. Then we will see if you think of them as ‘only’ anything.”

  “What do you mean?” Quill asked warily.

  Gamora’s only reply was to clap her hands and say one word.

  “Ansari!”

  One of the students trotted over. She was short and slight, her head coming up only to Quill’s chest. Her reddish brown hair was cut short and framed fine-boned, fox-like features.

  “This man doesn’t think you can fight. Would you like to show him otherwise?”

  “Yes, mistress!” Ansari exclaimed.

  “Hang on,” Quill said, not liking where this was going. “I am not fighting a child.”

  “Scared of a little girl, Quill?” Rocket jeered.

  “It’s okay, Quill, you can go easy if you want. I don’t think you’ll need to, but that’s up to you,” Gamora said. “We want you to see how talented these ‘children’ are. Ansari is my personal apprentice, and I think she will give you some much needed exercise. Unless Rocket is right . . .”

  “Fine,” Quill snapped. “Let’s do this.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth when Ansari drove her fist into his stomach. As he doubled up, she punched him in the nose, bringing tears of pain. She threw another punch but he caught this one and squeezed, bending her fist back and forcing her to her knees.

  “Seriously? That’s what you teach them here? To sucker punch people?” he gasped.

  “I teach them to win,” Gamora said. “That’s what matters. They will usually be facing someone bigger and stronger, so they need to seize on every advantage that they can possibly find.”

  “That’s right,” Rocket said. “And the bigger they are, the harder they fall. You get him, kid! Strike a blow for those of us that come in small packages.”

 
As quick as a snake, Ansari flung her body around, driving both feet into Quill’s knees and breaking his hold. He brought his foot down to stamp on her, but she rolled away and was on her feet before he could blink. She came at him again and again, throwing kicks and punches with reckless abandon, her anger overwhelming her training. He was handicapped by the fact that he didn’t want to hurt her, and she not only knew it, but was using it against him. She was able to concentrate on offense, often leaving herself open in order to strike at him. He saw a dozen opportunities to take her down, but each time he held back, and he paid for it as she hit him again and again.

  “Come on, Quill, what are you doing?” Rocket yelled. “Finish her.”

  “Shut up, Rocket!” Quill grunted. “It’s okay for you to say that, you’d be picking on someone your own size.”

  Quill wasn’t sure who was more offended by that comment, the raccoonoid or Ansari. She let out a cry of rage and redoubled her attack. Quill blocked most of her blows, but more than one got through, striking him in tender places that left him wincing, tears of a pain in his eyes.

  “Okay, that’s it,” he snarled.

  As she came at him again he stepped inside her blow, ignoring the punch that he took in the ribs. There was a look of panic in her eyes as he closed in on her and brought his superior strength into play. His fingers dug into her arms as he spun her and wrapped his arm around her neck. Flexing his muscles, he squeezed, bringing pressure to bear on the arteries in her throat, while being careful not to crush her larynx. As the flow of blood to her brain began to slacken, she struggled against his grip.

  “Yield,” Quill said.

  Her only response was to throw her head back to try and headbutt him in the chin, but he was too strong for her. She tried everything—stamping on his instep, driving her elbow back—but Quill was in too good a position, and had complete control.

  “Yield,” he demanded again, squeezing even harder.

  “Never,” she choked out.

  “You really are Gamora’s apprentice,” he said admiringly. “So be it.”

  Slowly Ansari’s struggles began to weaken, then slowly and finally she blacked out, going limp in his arms. Gently, Quill laid her down on the grass, and checked her airways. It was a measure of the fight she had put up that he did so very carefully, keeping out of her reach as much as was possible—in case she was bluffing.

  “Well, I won’t say that was fun,” he said. “Talk about a chip off the old block. You’ve done a great job training her.”

  Kasara was looking at him appraisingly, as if seeing him properly for the first time.

  “Maybe you aren’t as bad as I thought,” she said. “A lot of men would have lost their tempers and lashed out. But, you . . . you were careful not to inflict any unnecessary pain.”

  “It’s one thing to fight; it’s another to enjoy hurting people,” Quill said uncomfortably, surprised at her praise. “She fought well, and I just tried to protect myself without hurting her too much. In a few years, I won’t have that luxury—she’ll be too good for anyone fighting her to hold back.”

  Kasara didn’t say anything else, but for the rest of the day he would catch her eyes upon him, and wonder what exactly she was thinking.

  Chapter 9

  “As you can see, there is more to this place than just learning to fight,” Gamora said.

  They were watching a group of young girls learning the intricate symbols of a form of mathematics that bore a striking resemblance to algebra. As they looked on, one of the sisters was writing on a large chalkboard and the students were industriously scribbling away. Quill shook his head; some of that math was beyond him—not that he’d ever been a big fan of the subject.

  “When they leave here, they will be capable of doing whatever they want to,” Gamora continued. “We will even set them up with enough funds to start a small business. Most of them end up not only paying us back, but making an additional donation to help support the next generation of students.”

  “When I saw those huts hanging off the cliff face, I wouldn’t have imagined all this was here,” Quill said. “Which, I imagine, is the point.”

  “Exactly,” Gamora said. “We keep all this hidden from those who would take it away from us. And, the way that the huts are placed acts as an excellent last line of defense.”

  Quill imagined trying to climb up to the huts with warriors like Gamora and Kasara, or even Ansari, waiting above, ready to hurl down death. He shuddered at the thought.

  “I can see how they would be,” he said. “I’m impressed by what the sisters have achieved here, and I can understand why you feel at home.”

  “And you understand why I can’t just leave?” she asked. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, but I just can’t.”

  Quill reached out and took her hand. For a moment she tensed as if she were going to pull away, and then she relaxed.

  “I do understand, Gamora, and I’m not going to hold it against you. What you have here is worth defending.”

  “I think you should go, daughter.” The Abbess had been so quiet that Quill had almost forgotten she was there, and when she spoke, it startled him enough to make him jump slightly.

  “You think I should go, mother?” Gamora asked. “Why?”

  “Because you will be doing the same work as you do here,” she replied.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How many orphans will the nomad invasion leave behind? How many terrified young girls will there be with no one to turn to? How many are there already?” the Abbess asked. “You need to be where you can make the most difference. We both know that your talents are bigger than this, no matter how important what we do here is. I have others who can do your work here, like Kasara, but you are the most likely to change things out there.”

  “But . . .”

  “But nothing, daughter,” the Abbess said, iron in her voice. “If you can help turn back this invasion, you will save countless lives. And you will find plenty of children to send to us for help—children who would otherwise have no hope.”

  “But mother, . . . I don’t want to abandon you,” Gamora said. “You’ve done so much for me.”

  “You won’t be abandoning us, daughter, you’ll be fulfilling our mission,” the Abbess said, smiling. “And you know that you will always be welcome here.”

  Gamora argued for a little bit longer, but the Abbess was implacable, and Quill knew that it was already decided. The rest was just talking.

  When they got down to the bottom of the cliff, Groot was surrounded by children. They were climbing all over him, tugging at his leaves and swinging from his branches. The sound of their laughter echoed around the valley, and was matched by the broad smile on Groot’s face.

  “Sorry, big guy, it’s time to get going,” Rocket said. “Cleanse yourself of these parasites and let’s make a move.”

  “I am Groot.”

  “Yeah, okay, so they aren’t the most repulsive rug rats I’ve ever seen,” Rocket grumbled. “But, still, time to go.”

  With incredible gentleness, Groot began to pull the children off and place them on the ground. A few complained, but most seemed incredibly calm, as if Groot’s mere presence was a mood-altering substance. He walked over to his companions and reached out, brushing Gamora’s cheek with a tendril.

  “I am Groot.”

  Gamora smiled at him. “I’m happy to see you again, too.”

  “Isn’t this sweet?” Rocket said, but there was no venom in his voice—only affection. “We’re getting the band back together!”

  “Now we just need to find Drax,” Quill said. “I honestly have no idea where he might be.”

  “Actually, about that . . .” Gamora said. “I don’t know where to find him, but I know what direction he was headed in. We ended up traveling togeth
er for a little while after we left you at the ship.”

  Quill felt an irrational sting of jealousy, but tried to sound calm. “I didn’t know that,” he said. “But that helps. As long as he didn’t decide to change course.”

  “Not likely. You know Drax, it takes a lot to get him to deviate from a straight line,” she said, and Quill nodded. “He would have kept marching until he found a place to call home, and the gods help anyone who got in his way.”

  “And which way was that?” Quill asked.

  “That’s the bad news,” Gamora said. “When I last saw him, he was headed into the wilderness, which is all sand and nothing until you reach the Broken Hills—and they are over a month’s hard marching from here. There wouldn’t have been anything to capture his interest before he reached them.”

  “I don’t have weeks,” Quill said. “I’m running out of time.”

  “I do have an idea,” Gamora said. “It’s a long shot, though.”

  “I’m not sure what choice we have at this point,” Quill said. “A long shot is better than no shot.”

  “At the monastery we have tired to preserve books and histories that would have otherwise been lost or forgotten,” Gamora said. “Our monastery has been here a long time, and there are a number of books in our library that mention a now-extinct race that tamed some sort of winged creature and used it for transport. I don’t know whether it is a myth, or garbled accounts of gliders or something similar, or whether they actually did ride giant birds. But there are enough mentions of it for me to think there’s something to it.”

  “You’re right,” Rocket said. “That’s a very long shot.”

  “I said it was,” Gamora retorted. “If you have any better ideas, feel free to share.”

  “And where did these aviators live?” Quill asked. “I certainly hope nearby.”

  Gamora smiled. “Exactly. This very mountain. Right at the top.”