Guardians of the Galaxy: Collect Them All

by Corinne Duyvis

  “Close now,” he said, voice low, his element gun up and ready.

  The door cracked open.

  Then—before anyone exited—

  A shot grazed her hip.

  Gamora jolted aside instinctively. One leg snapped out, kicking Quill away. A shot burned through the air where his head had been seconds before.

  Gamora turned and saw two attacking bots hurtling toward them from behind. She had her sword at the ready. She blocked further shots, deflecting them into the walls before diving forward and slashing one bot in half. Quill took the other one, engulfing it in a gout of flame even as he scrambled away.

  Poor timing. By the time they turned back, two Kree privates were running their way. Gamora had been warned by Drax about the holos; now that she knew, it was easy to tell. The edges of their bodies flickered, and the shadows didn’t quite line up right.

  “Spores!” the Kree at the back commanded.

  (That voice—)

  The Kree in front—the disguised Grootling—spread his arms and puffed out his chest. She recognized the style of movement even if she didn’t recognize the outer layer of Kree projected on top.

  “Groot, don’t!” Gamora shouted. “It’s us!”

  The holo twitched. Quill fired his element gun. It came too late: Flickering spores spurted into the air before the Grootling. Quill’s shot cut an empty streak through the cloud whirling toward them, but it couldn’t stop all the spores. A moment later, ice encased the Grootling’s upper leg.

  They had a fraction of a second before the spores would hit. No time to run. A blast of air from Quill’s gun wouldn’t help, this close—its range was too narrow. Too many spores would still get through. Even straight-up killing the Grootling, a thought that Gamora loathed, wouldn’t help now.

  “Get low.” Quill drew her into a crouch against the wall. He fired his gun a second time. This time, it wasn’t at the Groot. The air shifted—solidified—twisted. The wall of ice curved in front of them and overhead, forming a shield. Gamora and Quill ducked under it as the first spores bounced off harmlessly.

  The Grootling crossed the hall until he stood right before them, his Kree image misshapen through the ice. Gamora watched him, unmoving, her hand around her sword and ready to strike. Beside her, Quill clutched his gun the same way. It was set to worse than ice, she knew.

  If the Grootling broke the barrier to strike again, they would strike, too. They had no choice.

  But she couldn’t tell who would be faster—and attacking the Groot might make him instinctively unleash more spores.

  The Grootling tilted his head, and reached to press two disguised Kree fingers to the surface of the ice. Recognizing Quill and Gamora? Testing the barrier? Then he twitched, drawing the hand back.

  “Leave them,” the second Kree-holo told Groot.

  Again—that voice.

  Rocket had told them that Baran wasn’t the Grootling’s handler, so who—

  Beside her, Quill sat up straight. “Annay?”

  “Well.” Annay came to a halt in front of the ice. “This is awkward.”

  Gamora was still considering ways to take out the both of them without risking another spore attack. Another part of her mind was busy putting it all together:

  Baran really had meant to use the Grootling defensively.

  Annay, however, must have seen the Grootling’s potential. She’d told someone else about it, or maybe she’d even organized the ceremony attack herself, from afar. As for how she’d gone from working at her bar this morning to steering the Grootling through the halls now, Gamora couldn’t say—

  Unless—of course. When Annay had first come on board the Guardians’ ship, she’d been eager to return home. There had been no reason for her to worry: The Guardians knew nothing. But when the Guardians had discovered the attack on the ceremony and set course for Vadin, Annay had abruptly decided to stay on board. She’d been worried about the Guardians interfering with the attack.

  “Sorry, Peter,” Annay said. “You really do have nice hair.”

  “I am so disappointed right now,” he said, staring blankly.

  “I’d hoped my distractions would mean we didn’t have to do this, you and me. We still don’t. This isn’t any of your business, Guardians. It’s between us and the Kree. You weren’t there to help us when they attacked us; you shouldn’t be here to stop us now.”

  “We didn’t know then,” Gamora said. “We do know now.”

  “Convenient. Still not your business.”

  “You’re kind of using our friend as a weapon, though,” Quill pointed out.

  “Fair point.”

  “I am Groot.”

  His voice was so mangled, Gamora couldn’t make out what he was saying—but it was undoubtedly his voice coming from that incongruously smooth, incongruously Kree body. She wished she could look up at him and see the familiar bark of his face.

  But it would not help her get through to him.

  “Look, this day didn’t turn out like I’d planned, either,” Annay said. “I would’ve preferred to be throwing violent drunks out of my bar at this point—that’s my favorite part of the day. Maybe keeping an eye on the channels for news of an attack on Vadin. It’s much safer arranging these things from a distance.”

  Plausible deniability, Gamora thought.

  “But when you figured out the attack, I tagged along to delay you, and gave my crew a heads-up to speed things along before you could interfere. They rushed it, messed up transporting the Groot, and then they were too scared of him to even get close. They wanted to send him up here on his own with only long-term commands. I stepped in, and here we are. You guys want to save lives? You want to bring justice? Find those Kree that attacked our home. They’re still out there. Because our government? Or this government?” She tugged her head toward the ceiling. “They sure have no intentions of doing it.”

  “We’ll put that on our to-do list,” Quill said. “There’s still the issue of you trying to straight-up murder people right now.”

  She blew out a wistful sigh. “Don’t get in our way. Groot? Move along.”

  He turned, dragging his feet along without complaint.

  “Groot!” Quill called after him. “Fight it!”

  Before, Annay had kept her distance from the Grootling—probably to avoid the spores. Now, she walked closely by his side, keeping him as a shield between her and the two Guardians.

  “Your taste in women…” Gamora started.

  “Don’t,” Quill said, then let out a defeated sigh. “I know.”

  THE GUARDIANS of the Galaxy had handled worse problems before Kiya came along, and they would handle worse after she was gone.

  Kiya was perfectly aware of that.

  But those other problems hadn’t been and wouldn’t be caused by her. After seeing the victims at the hospital, it was impossible not to imagine the same agony on the faces of the Guardians, or any Kree or DiMavi visiting the ceremony.

  She was taking readings from a Grootling, his legs crossed on the counter across from her. “Those people at the hospital will be fine, right?”

  “I am Groot.”

  She jabbered nervously at him. “I know the Kree are proud, and I know they’re still hurting and angry over what happened to the planet Hala while I was with the Collector, but they wouldn’t actually start a war over this. They know DiMave isn’t a threat. They know we couldn’t survive a war. They wouldn’t.”

  “I am Groot?”

  “I swear, I thought Baran would only use the Groot defensively.”

  “I am Groot.”

  “Those people at the hospital…”

  “I am Groot.”

  “Is it working yet? Do you feel any different…?”

  “I am Groot.”

  Kiya ran a hand through her hair, examining the Grootling before her. He’d absorbed the original Groot’s shard into himself easily; that was progress. But whether that meant he was actually combining with Groot, absorbing his memo
ries and experiences…

  She couldn’t tell yet.

  She’d done all she could here. She needed to go back to focusing on how to sync up the Grootlings’ minds enough for them to merge.

  “All right,” she said, thinking out loud. “What if I try—”

  “I am Groot!” An adult Grootling came running into the med bay, sounding panicked. “I am Groot! I am—” The yelling seemed to exhaust him, and his voice skipped on itself. “—Groot!”

  “What? What’s happening?”

  He grabbed her, pulled her up out of her chair, and dragged her through the ship. “I am Groot!” He didn’t slow down until they were on the bridge, his legs buckling from the sudden exertion. He looked at her intently, then pointed at a screen on the dashboard.

  She took a hesitant step closer. Several feeds showed the area around the ship—the nearby rocky outcrop, the dry, cracked desert ground. One screen showed movement. The hull of a private shuttle amidst the sand and stone, and the confident stride of a man walking away from it.

  “Oh,” she whispered. The cold prick of goosebumps ran across her back.

  She recognized that shuttle, and she recognized that man.

  The Collector had found her.

  42

  THE CLOSER Drax came to the ground floor, the more the halls buzzed with activity. Kree soldiers went door-to-door, escorted away office workers, and fought off aggressive security bots. A captain gave instructions in a booming, amplified voice.

  The Kree had started an evacuation.

  A few soldiers tried to stop Drax. He swatted them aside, more or less gently. Most were wise enough to ignore him.

  He stepped over a deceased employee. The holes in her chest suggested an encounter with a security bot.

  Drax stopped abruptly in the lobby. The Kree weren’t just evacuating their own: Dozens of DiMavi were crowded together on one side of the room. All civilians, by the looks of it. At least 10 or 12 security bots hovered overhead, firing rapid shots that lit up the air in yellow amid the sea of green skin.

  There was a distracting amount of screaming.

  The DiMavi huddled for safety against the walls. Some pushed toward the open stairwell to return to the basement, which other DiMavi were still trying to escape from—they spilled into the lobby, escorted up by Kree soldiers.

  Armed soldiers scattered around the lobby. Most pressed close to the DiMavi civilians, weapons raised as they tried to hold off the bots.

  Drax broke into a run. He leapt up, plucked a security bot from the air, then brought it down on another bot—hard—smashing the both of them to the floor with a hearty, satisfied laugh.

  Two down.

  Many more to go.

  The group dashed away from him, then swarmed back together, kept in line by the bots. One bot fired at a Kree soldier; several shots hit his arm. Others landed in the crowd behind him. Two DiMavi screamed, their gray-pink blood spraying the air.

  The bot had not aimed for them, though. Drax knew that much. Its aim had been narrow, focused only on the Kree soldier instead of the easier targets behind him.

  Drax studied the room, zeroing in on the other bots and their targets.

  “Run!” one Kree—a lieutenant—called to the group of DiMavi. “Go for the exit!”

  Three Kree privates led away some of the DiMavi. The group instantly fell under assault, pushed back by the bots.

  Drax had seen enough. The bots only targeted the Kree—never the DiMavi civilians.

  He stepped forward, striking a security bot firing at him. “Kree!” he bellowed, coming ever closer to the group. “Move away from the civilians!”

  They seemed unwilling to listen.

  The lieutenant aimed her weapon at Drax. “Step away.”

  “You are attracting the bots,” Drax said.

  Annay’s team, he realized, had reprogrammed the bots to avoid attacking DiMavi like themselves. If the bots targeted only the Kree and other species working in the building, the attackers could move through the halls freely. That precaution might keep these other DiMavi safe.

  As long as they kept their distance from the real targets.

  “Step! Away!” the lieutenant said. “We will not abandon our charges!”

  Drax had talked enough. He would not talk further while innocents were caught in the crossfire.

  He charged at the group. The DiMavi screamed. The Kree soldiers shifted their focus from the security bots to him. A shot scraped his cheek—

  Drax roared. Grabbed one Kree private by the arm and tossed her back, sending her sliding across the floor. Pushed through the DiMavi crowd. Took hold of another Kree. Flung him over the heads of the DiMavi, halfway across the lobby.

  The remaining Kree fought their way through the DiMavi to reach him.

  The bad: The security bots all congregated on the same spot—Drax and the Kree.

  The good: The DiMavi were no longer hemmed in by their Kree guards. They dispersed, jostling to get away from Drax and the wildly firing security bots.

  “The exit.” Drax’s voice boomed above the noise. He pointed over the crowd. “They will not follow!”

  Not all of the DiMavi listened. Some stayed fearfully near the guards Drax had flung aside. Others tried to fight their way down to the basement.

  Some ran, though.

  “Look,” Drax told the soldiers around him. Not a single DiMavi was being targeted by the bots.

  The Kree paid no attention; they were too busy looking at him. They circled him, staying at a safe distance. At least half a dozen pointed their weapons at him, while the outer ring tried to fend off the bots. Red and white lights along the bots’ sides flickered aggressively as they fired another round of shots.

  “On the floor!” one Kree yelled at Drax. “On the floor, now!”

  Drax crossed his arms. He looked down at the soldier.

  “On the floor…please?”

  “Stand down!” the lieutenant called from outside the circle, watching the DiMavi run and scatter to safety. “He’s right. Keep your distance from the civilians! Focus on the bots and draw them away!”

  The soldier lowered his gun, visibly relieved. “You’re the Destroyer, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.” Drax uncrossed his arms, swinging them loose. He had his eyes set on the nearest bots. “So let us destroy.”

  THE GROOTLING and Annay had gotten ahead of Peter and Gamora.

  The best way to catch them by surprise was to reverse that situation.

  Peter shot up straight through the air, a mere two feet outside the building. The sun glittered against the glass and beat down on his body, but he barely felt it with Gamora’s arms around his neck and the wind rushing past him. Far below, people started to spill from the buildings onto the courtyard—some running in a panic, others merely confused.

  Rocket had said the Elder Council convened on the eighth floor. Peter counted the floors as they rose, slowing when he reached the eighth. His helmet ran a scan: Seven people sat clustered near each other in a large, otherwise empty room. That had to be the Council members. Outside the room, a dozen others stood guard.

  “Rocket, are there any Kree on their way up?”

  “I locked the doors and slammed down some force fields,” he said. “They’re already working on breaking ’em down, but you’re good for now.”

  “Sweet. Bring up those two elevators.”

  The thrusters on Peter’s boots dwindled, firing just enough to keep him in the air. He turned away from the window to give Gamora room.

  She dropped one arm from his neck, his thrusters compensating for her weight, and drew her sword. “Thank you.”

  A moment later, glass shattered and spilled over the floor inside. Gamora leapt away from Peter, landing in a crouch.

  Peter touched down by her side.

  A dozen angry Kree soldiers pointed a dozen fierce weapons at them.

  “Guardians,” one soldier barked, stepping forward. The wind gusting through the broken window
tugged at her tightly bound hair. “I am Captain Mari-Kee. You’re interfering with a sensitive operation. Leave.”

  “We’re helping with a sensitive operation, actually.” Peter held up his hands to show he meant no harm, even as he analyzed the situation. “We know more about the threat than you do.” He hoped so, anyway. If the Kree had found out that DiMavi citizens were behind this…

  “We know enough.” The captain shot a glance at the stairwell doors. If the Grootling and Annay made it up here, it would be through that entrance.

  Down the hall, more Kree soldiers were stationed in front of the doors to the Council’s conference room. A few defeated security bots by the far wall—along with an unmoving, blood-covered Kree body—showed that Mari-Kee’s people had already dealt with the other threats roaming the building.

  “What’s your plan?” Peter asked.

  Captain Mari-Kee studied Peter and Gamora, then nodded as though coming to a conclusion. “We stay at a distance to avoid the poison and shoot on sight.”

  “Flora colossi are resilient,” Peter said. “To take him out, you’ll need to completely destroy him—and he might release the spores in the process.”

  The hallway outside the Elder Council’s conference room was spacious, both tall and wide, but it was still a confined space. If the spores reached farther than the Kree expected, they would have nowhere to run.

  “Then so be it. The threat would be neutralized.”

  Peter groaned. He should’ve seen that coming. The Kree and their blasted hierarchy—they’d do anything for their leaders. “We have an alternate plan that’ll actually keep you alive. Help us evacuate the Council—”

  “Out of the question.”

  “I have a plan! A good plan! A totally thought-out plan!” He managed to swallow the words for once. “Come on—”

  “We’re not letting outsiders near the Elder Council at a time like this, and we’re not moving them until the situation is secured,” Captain Mari-Kee stated.

  “We don’t have time to argue this. There’s a plan B.”

  She shot another glance at the doors. “Hurry up.”