Guardians Of The Galaxy: Collect Them All Prose Novel

by Corinne Duyvis

  Either way, it was time to go get Kiya.

  Rocket stomped around the ship, eventually finding her in the med bay, where—for the first time—she didn’t have any Grootlings in front of her to study. She sat cross-legged on one of the seats, pondering the wall.

  He entered the room, watching her warily. “What’re you doing?”

  “Thinking.” She looked up. “How’s Groot?”

  “He’s fine.” Groot was better than fine, in truth—he was strong and alive and remembered every single event the Guardians asked him about. Ever since he’d boarded the ship, he’d been watching the rest of the team with the broadest, stupidest, most embarrassing smile on his face.

  Rocket had kinda liked seeing that smile.

  Kiya frowned. “We’re slowing down. Are we landing?”

  “‘Course we’re landing! We gotta assess the damage, don’t we? You blew a hole in the ship.”

  “The Collector did that,” she said. “The bomb I set off to blast him outside only left that little crater in the floor.”

  She looked nervously in the direction of the bridge. Rocket had a hunch why she was suddenly so anxious about landing. She was worried about the Collector coming after them. Wherever Kiya had dropped Tivan, he’d probably found a way back to his ship by now.

  It almost made Rocket feel bad for her.

  Almost.

  “I don’t care who did it, but it’s done, so we’re stuck on Vadin, all right? How’re we going to get into space?” Rocket crossed his arms. “We ain’t. That’s how. Unless we wanna all get sucked into a vacuum and die horrifically. Do you want that? Didn’t think so.”

  She glared at him. “Fine. We’re landing. I get it.” She dropped her hands in her lap and took a breath. “He shouldn’t have been able to absorb the poison Grootling.”

  “Say what now?”

  “The rest of the Groots—they saw their duplicate seconds away from murdering their best friend and a crowd of civilians. If they all felt an emotion strongly enough—the exact same thing at the exact same time—it might’ve been enough for them to sync up and merge while falling.

  “But after that? The merged Groot and the poison Grootling? I bet that whatever they were feeling at the time, it didn’t line up. My theory—”

  There she went again, with the theories.

  “—Groot is stronger. The Grootlings needed their minds aligned perfectly because they were too weakened to cope with any mental resistance. Groot, at full strength, doesn’t have that problem.

  “Which is a good thing, because I’d been wondering how to elicit an emotion strong enough to eventually sync him up with the remaining Grootlings—Ka-Lenn’s and the ones Tivan still has. Maybe someone could’ve pulled a gun on you. Damsel Rocket in distress seemed to do the trick before.”

  Oh, he really did not like this girl.

  Which made the next part a little more fun.

  “Yeah, great, nice theory.” He half-turned in the doorway and gestured for her to come with. “I’m gonna check out that big flarking hole in the ship, and you just volunteered to be my assistant. C’mon.”

  For a moment he thought she might argue or make another smartass comment—but a flicker of fear crossed her face, and she climbed to her feet to follow him. Probably figured that getting the ship up and running again soon would be in her best interest.

  After they landed in the desert, safely away from civilization, Rocket kept Kiya busy for a while. He made her stand outside in the evening wind, which whisked dirt around their feet and blew a fine layer of sand into the open cargo bay. He had her take notes and hold up big metal plates, allowing Rocket to crawl underneath and check out the damage.

  Then Quill’s voice sounded through the ship’s comms.

  “We have incoming.”

  Kiya started. “Kree?” she said, but she didn’t sound like she believed it.

  “We picked up a burst of teleportation energy.”

  No elaboration needed.

  “Get inside,” Quill said. “We’ll shake him off.”

  Rocket shook his head. “We had to shut down the whole ship to run these inspections safely. By the time we get her moving, we won’t be able to shake him.”

  “What’s your bright idea then?” Quill sounded frustrated. “Camouflage the ship with leaves and hope he won’t notice us?”

  Rocket’s eyes met Kiya’s. “I’ll take her with me on foot,” he said. “Let the Collector chase you away from here, then tell him she ain’t on the ship. Let him run a scan. He’ll lose interest. We’ll meet up you-know-where.”

  Quill was silent. Then: “Kiya?”

  Rocket jogged outside, giving her an impatient look. She was sweating, leaving little trails of deep green on her dust-covered face. If she didn’t cooperate, there were alternative options—one of them dangled by his side. It’d be easier for everyone if she just came along nicely.

  “All right,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  He ran away from the ship, keeping low. They’d landed in a different part of the desert this time—more rocky and uneven, with knobby trees and prickly bushes growing low to the ground.

  Behind Rocket, Kiya’s footsteps crunched on dead leaves and dried grass. Then she screeched to a halt. “He’s already—”

  Oh, so she’d noticed the shuttle. It was parked closer than Rocket had expected.

  Time to play.

  He scooted to the side, getting some distance from Kiya before she could get any funny ideas about putting that training of hers to use. He pointed his blaster at her. With his other hand, he fumbled for his communicator. He’d hooked it up to the ship earlier. One tap, and doors all over the Guardians’ ship firmly locked, from the bridge to their quarters to the emergency hatches.

  Kiya stood petrified. She stared at the Collector’s shuttle.

  The Collector himself stepped onto the charred earth. He still wore his fur coat, despite the heat.

  “Got a clean cape, Tivan?” Rocket called out. “How many spares you have on board? ’Cause I saw the footage of her blowing you out that hole, and that looked real painful.”

  “What’s past is past,” the Collector said. His eyes were on Kiya. “I won’t hold it against you.”

  She was still staring. Rocket saw her legs move—tensing up, as if she was about to attack or flee. He waved the blaster to get her attention. “Nuh-uh.”

  “Rocket?” Drax said through their comms. “What are you doing?”

  Rocket plucked out his earpiece and flicked it away. It bounced against a rocky outcrop, onto the dry ground.

  The Collector raised an eyebrow in mild interest.

  “Noisy teammates,” Rocket explained.

  “Rocket!” Drax’s voice came from the ship this time, amplified through the speakers all over. His voice carried easily through the massive hole. “Do not do this!”

  The Collector was looking up past Rocket. Rocket peered over his shoulder to see what was so interesting. The sun glinted against the bridge. Gamora and Groot stood pressed against the glass, watching.

  “I am Groot!”

  “Rocket,” Gamora said sharply. “Put down that weapon. Take Kiya and run. We’ll delay him. It’s not too late.”

  “Interesting.” The Collector squinted at Gamora, then looked back to Kiya. “The two of you have grown close, have you not? Marvelous. You will be able to imitate her even more effectively.”

  “Did you hack into my krutacking ship?” Quill yelled, followed by heavy thudding. “Open these doors!”

  That thudding in the background had to be Drax slamming into the bridge hatch. Rocket didn’t have a whole lot of time.

  Rocket scratched his head. “Look, Tivan, I’m gonna catch flak over this, so how about we get it done. Do you have my Groots?”

  Finally, Kiya’s face snapped to him. “You—you—”

  “Me. Me.” If she kept this up, he might actually start to feel guilty. She looked real upset.

  “I just got away from h
im!” she screamed.

  “My Groots,” Rocket repeated.

  “The girl,” the Collector said.

  “That’s cute, but no. The Groots first. I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

  The Collector studied Kiya, as if confirming she was really there. “Your enhancements can’t be functioning optimally, and prying out my tracker by yourself may have left lasting damage. Won’t you let me patch you up?”

  She’d been sweating before. Now, she was crying.

  Thud—thud—

  The viewport showed a glint moving inside the bridge. Had to be Gamora’s sword.

  “I’m waiting,” Rocket said.

  “Very well.” The Collector gestured at his shuttle with a flourish. As if on cue—that man had excellent timing—the Groots climbed out. The first was the one they’d talked to in the arboretum. Rocket had seen the next three on holo, when the Guardians had asked for Kiya’s location.

  “Hi, guys,” Rocket said.

  They squinted at Kiya and gave Rocket a questioning look.

  “I am Groot?”

  “Ehhh, I’ll explain later,” he said. Knowing Groot, he wouldn’t exactly like the explanation, but Rocket would deal with that once Kiya was on the shuttle. For now, he wanted all the Groots safely behind him. “Get in the ship. There’s a big hole, lots of angry howling from the speakers, can’t miss it. Trust me on this, guys.”

  They started to walk through the dry foliage toward the ship, casting glances at Kiya, the Collector, and Rocket. The other Guardians were still on the ship, yelling and bashing at the windows and doors. Rocket did not want to know what that bridge hatch looked like by now. It had to be seconds from breaking open. Drax did not mess around.

  “The girl, please,” the Collector said sharply.

  Rocket wiggled his gun at Kiya. “Get on that shuttle. I don’t wanna have to ruin the merchandise, but I will shoot you. Somewhere non-lethal. It’ll hurt a lot.”

  “I am Groot…?”

  Kiya looked at Rocket, her face twisted in hatred. Her gaze dropped to his blaster.

  She walked forward, her legs stiff, and climbed into the shuttle.

  “Pleasure doing business.” The Collector dropped into a curtsy.

  Moments later, the shuttle teleported away, and they were gone.

  49

  AS SOON as the doors clicked open, Drax was outside.

  He tuned out the yelling from the others. He had a single goal: It was small, furry, and traitorous—and it would soon be grievously injured.

  “Rocket!” he bellowed.

  He stormed through the Grootlings standing uncertainly by the edge of the ship. Spun toward Rocket, sending hot sand and crumbling rock spraying, and went straight for his target.

  Rocket was holstering his blaster, walking back with a skip in his step and hum in his voice. At the sight of Drax, he slowed down.

  “Look,” he said, “Drax—”

  Then he said nothing, because Drax had his hand around the twisty little rodent’s neck and was lifting him up. Rocket squirmed and flailed in the air, kicking with his hind legs.

  “Ggkkhhh—ghh—”

  “You. Sold. Her. Out!”

  “Agghhk—”

  Furious little nails scrabbled at Drax’s skin. They did no harm.

  “You know what he did to her!” He slammed Rocket onto the hull of the ship. “She is a child, and you—”

  Rocket’s claws did Drax no harm; Gamora’s roundhouse kick to his skull, however, did.

  Drax stumbled aside, his grip on Rocket loosening.

  “Release him!” she said. “Now!”

  “He sold Kiya. Of all people, Gamora, I had thought you would protect her.”

  “Let us explain,” she demanded.

  “No explanation could excuse this.” Drax glared at her, fury burning him up inside. Rocket’s betrayal of the group—of the girl—was one thing. Gamora taking Rocket’s side was too much. “To sink so low—”

  “He didn’t sell her out! Let us explain.”

  Quill and Groot came running out the ship, too. “Drax, it’s a setup!”

  “I am Groot!”

  Drax shook his head. “I know what I saw!” Kiya had stepped on board that ship with the Collector and teleported away. The scorchmarks from the teleportation energy still lingered on the rocky ground. Nothing about that could be a setup.

  Rocket squirmed within his grip.

  “We’re getting her back, Drax. We have a plan.”

  Drax glared at Quill, nostrils flaring.

  He would hear this plan of theirs.

  “Let Rocket go,” Gamora said. “If our explanation isn’t enough, you can always murder him later.”

  Rocket made a strangled sound of offense.

  Drax hesitated. Then he bent over and set Rocket down. Rocket collapsed against the cracked ground, reaching for his throat and coughing as though his lungs were preparing to exit his body.

  Drax crossed his arms. “Explain.”

  Two Grootlings crouched by Rocket’s side, steadying him as he coughed.

  “You couldn’t’ve—asked me that—’fore?” Rocket said.

  “If this was a setup, it was…convincing.”

  Quill looked exasperated. “That’s the whole point.”

  “You all knew this?” Drax looked from teammate to teammate.

  “We couldn’t tell you,” Quill said. “We didn’t have much time, and historically speaking, your acting skills are not great. The Collector knows our tricks. We didn’t want him to get suspicious.”

  “Ex-plain.”

  Rocket was still hacking and coughing. “You got my fur all gross,” he said, pointing accusingly at the smear he’d left on the filthy hull of the ship. “Kiya didn’t know, either, all right? She could’ve given the plan away too easily. It needed to look convincing to the Collector.”

  “Actually…” Quill said.

  “You told her?” Rocket glared. “I thought we all agreed! Wasn’t worth the risk!”

  Gamora looked unimpressed. “I agreed it was risky. I didn’t agree not to tell her. I was not handing her to Tivan without her consent.”

  “It’s only for a li’l bit.” Rocket turned his glare on Quill. “You went along with it? Wusses.”

  “I went along with it because I agreed. Besides, have you met that girl? She’d have fought like hell if she’d thought it was real.” Quill plopped onto the firm ground, legs crossed, pressing two fingers against his skull. “Okay, Drax, look. We needed a long-term solution. We—and Kiya—can’t run from Tivan forever.”

  “Agreed,” Drax said.

  “Remember our buddy Ka-Lenn? He’s dealt with the Collector regularly, and he’s on the Kree Supreme Science Council, specializing in weaponry; these things have to be related. The Collector loves old weaponry, with a special status or history, as well as brand-new weapons. Unique ones. Prototypes.”

  Drax narrowed his eyes. He could not tell where this was going.

  “At the hospital, Ka-Lenn was especially interested in Kiya’s implants. Not in what kind of implants they were, but in how she was getting along with them. He helped us get away from hospital security, then saved our asses again from the Accusers. We thought he was helping us in order to keep us away from the Kree, so we couldn’t rat him out. But what if he was keeping Kiya away? If he’d secretly sold the Collector high-tech Kree prototypes to enhance Kiya with, he wouldn’t want her to fall into the hands of his fellow Kree. It could be traced back to him—and the Kree get very territorial about their technology. Can’t have one of their own selling it off.”

  “I couldn’t identify the implants’ tech, but it did have a Kree flavor to it,” Rocket said. “The implants were unmarked, which is unusual. They were elegant, but unfinished. Once I thought Kree prototypes, everything fit.”

  Gamora took over. She leaned against the side of the ship, her arms crossed, her head in the shade. “Rocket set up a trade: the other Grootlings for Kiya.”


  “I told the Collector we were on Vadin, no more than that,” Rocket said. “Except I didn’t know Annay was trying to slow us down by tipping off both the Accusers and the Collector about us. She must’ve let him know the location of the ship, so he could see through those bogus tips and find Kiya way sooner than we’d thought—once I confirmed what planet we were on.” He shrugged. “My bad.”

  Quill nodded. “The Kree won’t tolerate prototypes being in Kiya’s or the Collector’s possession. The Collector is fine duking it out with us—he enjoys it, even—but he won’t be so happy when we sic the entire Kree Empire on him. There’s an entire universe to collect; he can put his time to better use than fighting the Kree.”

  “The Kree get Kiya back, yank out her implants, and presto.” Rocket climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. Dirt billowed away in clouds. “Better yet, we’ll have done the Kree yet another favor after saving their asses just now.”

  “Which gives us leverage,” Gamora said. “We need it, to keep Kiya safe.”

  “I see,” Drax said slowly. “Where is Ka-Lenn now?”

  “Oh, I tied him up and stuffed him in a closet.” Rocket fluffed up his tail. “Didn’t want him warning the Collector it was a setup. The Kree’ll probably find him soon. He’ll make up something convincing-sounding—he’s too scared to lose his job.”

  “And you believe the Kree will rescue Kiya?” Drax said.

  Quill nodded. “I’m about to contact the Accusers with what we know. They’re honorable. They’ll want their technology back, but I don’t think they would harm Kiya. What crimes could they accuse her of? She’s a teenage girl. She didn’t steal the tech, didn’t buy it, didn’t want it, didn’t even knowingly keep it hidden from the Kree—she had no idea it was theirs to begin with. I trust the Accusers to get her out of Tivan’s museum alive, probably within a matter of hours. If they don’t hand Kiya over to us after that, we can always pick a fight with them. I’d go up against Kree over the Collector any day.”

  Drax mulled it over.

  Then he uncrossed his arms and crouched in the sand in front of Rocket, who glanced at him suspiciously. “I had thought you capable of selling out the girl. I owe you an apology, my small friend.”