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“Alright!” announced Peter, “Good job team! Those kree didn’t know what hit them!”
Mantis, Nebula, and Gamora all smiled and nodded. The recently christened Guardians of the Galaxy had just escaped a tense confrontation with kree mercenaries. The mission had looked hopeless until Peter Quill had convinced one of the mercenaries to change sides. Now they were fleeing in a slipspace stream, having successfully escaped.
Peter was a fit man, though hardly intimidating. He wore a frumpy pilot’s uniform that he covered with a red duster. It was clear that looking cool was important to him. That proved difficult in comparison to his experienced and heavily-armed teammates.
Even for a zen whoberi, Gamora was tall. She stood at least a head taller than Peter (and indeed any average human). She wore a black suit of battle armor that encompassed her entire body below the neck, leaving only her green face and long red hair exposed. She stood beside her sister Nebula, a blue-skinned woman with a shaved head. There were small metal plates across her scalp where biotechnological modification had been done. Finally, Mantis was a small green woman with two antennae sticking out of her forehead. She wore mostly shawls and a long skirt in a patchwork of colors, although she remained barefoot.
Peter strolled toward the front of the ship and confidently took a seat in the captain’s chair. Gamora and Nebula exchanged a skeptical look.
“Now,” he smiled proudly, “For our next destination…”
Peter began clicking on the controls on the arm of the captain’s chair. Various maps came up on the display before him as he stared at it excitedly. Gamora let out a long sigh. She walked up to the captain’s chair and placed one hand firmly on Peter’s shoulder.
“Quill,” she said quietly, “What are you doing?”
“I’m uh…” said Peter, nervous but trying to appear confident, “...just picking where we’ll go next.”
“Mm-hm,” nodded Gamora, “Quill, you know you’re not the captain, right?”
“Uh…” muttered Quill, starting to slightly sweat, “...I just figured since I saved the day and all…”
“Quill,” said Gamora quietly, leaning in close to his ear, “Get out of this seat now or I will pull up on your boxers and not let go until you’re sterile.”
Peter, face white, slowly rose out of the chair and stepped aside. He gestured politely to the chair as Gamora smiled and took his place. Peter bashfully folded his hands in front of him, still shuddering at the thought of Gamora carrying out that threat. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t shared so much of Earth’s “culture” with the crew; Gamora was scary enough before she knew what a wedgie or a wet willy were.
Despite being human and Earthborn, Peter had spent his entire adult life adventuring in outer space. He had memories of Earth, although most were based in pop culture he had consumed as a child. He much preferred his life as an intergalactic adventurer, where he was just about the only spacefaring human out there.
“Nebula, you can drop us back down to thrusters for a bit,” said Gamora, “See if you can find a rest stop or something.”
Nebula nodded and began to interface with the controls. Suddenly the white light on the exterior displays faded to reveal the vast emptiness of space.
“Where are we?” asked Peter.
“Good question,” said Nebula, “I dropped us out at the nearest slipstream exit point. Someone jumped here recently. It looks like some sort of debris field of junk and space rocks.”
“Whoever it was must have had a strange idea of fun,” commented Peter.
“Or they didn’t know what they were doing,” said Nebula, “Peter, you might want to see this.”
One of the displays clicked to show a small ship floating in space by itself. The screen zoomed in. Peter gasped. The writing was in english. It was from Earth. The ship bore a large logo of a large bird and the word ‘S.H.I.E.L.D.’
***
Several years ago…
“Clear,” whispered Carol.
Monica ran past Carol, down the corridor, and held position there. Carol crept her way over while Monica swept the next corridor.
“Clear,” she whispered
Carol Danvers and Monica Rambeau wore identical S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms. Carol wore her long blonde hair in a ponytail. Monica wore her black dreads in one too. They made their way from room to room, not spotting anyone or anything in any of them.
Carol froze as Monica held up her hand at the next corner. That meant somebody was in there. Monica held up two fingers, signalling that there were only two of them. Monica made eye contact with Carol. She gestured that Carol would handle the target on the left, while she would handle the target on their right. Carol nodded. Monica counted down from three on her hand.
Carol and Monica moved with deadly efficiency. They had practiced dozens of different maneuvers together in countless scenarios. For something as simple as this, neither of them was even concerned. Carol strafed across the room with her pistol drawn. Just as both of the targets caught sight of her, Monica open fired on the one on the right. Carol fired three shots into the left’s chest.
“Aw, man!” whined one, looking at the paint splattered on his S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform.
“Sorry, Adrian,” smiled Carol, “Them’s the breaks.”
Adrian and his partner’s S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform was denoted by red accents, while Carol and Monica’s were denoted by green. They were in the middle of a team elimination training match and two more players had just been eliminated.
The two disqualified agents walked off dejectedly as Carol and Monica made their way into the next room. As far as they could tell, they were the last two members of their own team standing. They weren’t sure how many were left on the other team.
Monica held up her fist as she searched the next room. Then she turned to Carol with a smile. Carol tilted her head in confusion. What brought that on? Monica gestured for Carol to look around the corner as well.
“Hey,” whispered Monica as Carol looked, “That’s the newbie that got us stuck running laps last week, isn’t it?”
“Barbara Morse,” confirmed Carol, “Let’s take her down. Maybe fire a few extra shots for good measure.”
“I can do you one better,” said Monica excitedly.
Monica whispered her plan into Carol’s ear. They both broke into devious grins at the thought of executing it.
Carol took several steps back. Monica knocked her gun against the wall, creating a loud noise. Bobbi, who was busy looking into the next room, stood up straight at the sound of the noise. She moved closer to their corner, gun at the ready.
Bobbi spun around the corner, pistol drawn, but Monica was ready for her. Monica grabbed one of Bobbi’s wrists and punched the other. Bobbi grunted as her gun fell to the ground. Monica used this moment of surprise to get behind Bobbi and grab ahold of her utility belt.
“No, wait!” gasped Bobbi.
Monica grabbed onto the back of Bobbi’s cyan briefs and yanked them up high and hard. Bobbi let out a short squeal as both hands went behind her back to try and pull the underwear out of Monica’s hands. It was no use, Bobbi winced as Monica pulled more and the underwear cut in even further.
“You guys-!” cried Bobbi.
“Whenever you’re ready, Carol!”
Carol brought up her gun and fired at Bobbi repeatedly. Bobbi, still being held by her underwear, grunted and yipped with every shot. By the end of it Bobbi was covered in paint and the back of her underwear was stretched beyond recognition, loosely dangling over Bobbi’s butt as she futilley tried to pull it out through the seat of her pants.
“Sorry, new girl,” said Carol smugly, “That’s what you get.”
Bobbi turned away and let out a groan as she finished getting the fabric out of her butt. Carol and Monica both let out hearty laughs and high-fived one another. Bobbi bit her lip, said nothing, and walked out of the room.
“Think we were too hard on her?” asked Monica.
“Please,” chuckled Carol, “by hazing standards, this really isn’t even that bad.”
Monica chuckled and gave Carol a light punch to the shoulder. The two walked out proudly together, having eliminated every member of the opposing team and come out on top.
***
Today…
“I say we wake her up,” said Peter.
“Of course you say we wake her up,” scoffed Gamora.
“What’s that supposed to mean!?”
Peter, Gamora, Mantis, and Nebula all stood looking at the stasis chamber in front of them. After finding the small Earth ship floating in space, they brought it aboard and found a fit blonde woman in a uniform in a stasis chamber.
“Mantis,” said Gamora, “Remind me, what’s Earth’s current technological level?”
“Atomic,” said Mantis.
“What is the Galactic Council’s ruling on that?”
“Still off-limits for contact.”
“But this ship looks like it was designed on Earth,” said Gamora, “How did it get all the way out here if the planet still isn’t space faring?”
“Maybe things have changed,” shrugged Peter.
“Mantis,” continued Gamora, ignoring Peter, “What sort of outcomes are you seeing if we wake her up?”
Mantis had precognitive abilities. By focusing on the timeline she could see alternatives and possibilities, along with what actions would lead to those outcomes. It wasn’t absolute and was often imprecise, but Gamora had come to rely on it as a form of threat assessment.
“Mostly I see us coming out completely unharmed,” explained Mantis, “In a number of outcomes we actually befriend the woman. In most outcomes Peter flirts with her.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Gamora, “We let her out. Peter, don’t flirt with her.”
“I wasn’t-”
“Shut up.”
Nebula approached the device and clicked several buttons and switches. A loud hissing signalled the release of the anesthetic from the tube as color slowly returned to the woman’s skin. Within a few minutes she opened her eyes. Suddenly the lid flung open and the woman leapt out.
“Where am I!?” she demanded.
“Space,” said Peter.
“Shut up,” said Gamora, directing it at both Peter and the woman, “First, tell us who you are.”
“You speak English.”
“Translation tech,” said Gamora, pointing to an implant in her head, “Sends out a low level psychic field that translates everything we say. Now tell us: why are you here?”
“I’m Special Agent Carol Danvers of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she answered.
“S.H.I.E.L.D.’s sending people into space now?” asked Peter.
“I said shut up!” repeated Gamora.
“I was sent on an exploratory mission to find intelligent life,” said Carol.
Carol glanced at Gamora, then at Nebula, and then at Mantis.
“I suppose I succeeded.”
“So Earth has developed slipspace technology?” wondered Nebula aloud.
“Yes,” said Carol, “S.H.I.E.L.D. developed the technology to punch a hole in slipspace and send things through it. Communication across such a distance is still impossible, so pilots were sent out on an exploratory mission.”
“That explains why she ended up out here in the middle of nowhere,” commented Mantis, “This S.H.I.E.L.D. clearly had no idea what they were doing with slipspace tech.”
“Agents?” said Gamora, “As in plural?”
“The other ship,” said Carol, suddenly very serious, “Where is it!? Where is the other ship!?”
“There was no other ship,” said Nebula, “Yours was the only one we found.”
“We have to find the other one,” insisted Carol, “Someone’s aboard it!”
“Hold up now,” scoffed Nebula, “Just because you’re worried about some-”
“Deal,” said Gamora.
The other Guardians all looked at her in confusion.
“One condition,” said Gamora, “We help you with this, you and your buddy out there owe us a favor.”
Gamora smiled confidently. She made this sort of arrangement often. It suited her well.
“Deal,” said Carol without question.
***
Several years ago…
A loud buzzer went off as the lights in the training room went up. Carol rose to her knees, the front of her uniform coated in paint. Her body was aching from the dozens of impacts it had taken from the paintballs. Carol looked over her shoulder to see the rest of her team, paint free and holding the captured flag. They had won.
“Green Team wins,” announced the proctor over the intercom.
Carol’s team, including Monica, cheered. Carol had sacrificed herself by facing the opposing team head on while the others ran back with the flag, but it had worked. Carol smiled at her team. Monica smiled back and gave a thumbs up.
The training group was on their way out of the room to hit the showers, many of them coated in the adhesive paint used in the training weapons. The group was happily chatting as they made their way down the hall together. Carol’s laughter faded when she saw Maria Hill leaning against a wall and watching them.
“Agent Danvers,” she said, “Can I speak to you for a moment?”
Carol nodded, giving the others a courtesy smile before they continued their walk to the showers. Carol turned back to Hill and almost winced. Hill’s glare was intense. She only let up on it to look Carol’s paint coated uniform up and down. The silence was unbearable. Carol had to say something.
“What is it, Secretary Hill?”
Maria Hill was S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Secretary of Intelligence. This was not Carol and Hill’s first meeting. Hill had personally pulled Carol aside for her excellent performance in the past, suggesting that she might have unique mission opportunities for her. Conversations with Hill were always terrifying on some level.
“What happened out there?” demanded Hill, “Look at you; if that were live ammo, you’d be a mangled corpse right now.”
“Ma’am,” said Carol carefully, “I’m aware of that, but it allowed for the rest of the team to escape with the flag and-”
“-and to permanently lose their best operative,” finished Hill angrily, “You’re an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent Danvers, not a martyr looking to inspire a revolution.”
“I understand, ma’am,” said Carol, “but in sacrificing myself I ensured the safety of my teammates.”
“All of whom are less valuable to S.H.I.E.L.D. than you.”
“...ma’am?”
“S.H.I.E.L.D. isn’t the place for sentimental fools, Danvers,” said Hill plainly, “I need operatives who will survive. Project Marvel needs operatives who will survive.”
Carol nodded. She couldn’t afford to risk missing her chance at Project Marvel. Hill had disclosed its nature to Carol recently. It was a top-secret, highly experimental space exploration program kept completely off the books. Hill had teased the possibility of Carol being a pilot for the project, but none of it was set in stone yet.
“I understand,” said Carol.
“Project Marvel also needs operatives without significant emotional ties to other operatives.”
“Ma’am?”
“I’m referring to Agent Rambeau,” said Hill, “I have no reason to be concerned about you two, do I?
“No ma’am.”
“So if I asked you to terminate her for treason,” said Hill quietly, “You’d carry out the order?”
“...yes ma’am,” lied Carol after a moment.
It was hard to get herself to say it. She didn’t fully believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. Not that it would matter; Monica would never commit treason. Still, Carol couldn’t help but wonder if she lacked the conviction that Hill needed for Project Marvel. Like most conversations with Hill, this one left Carol with feelings of self doubt.
***
Today…
“Anything?”
“Not yet.”
Gamora, Nebula, and Carol were all staring intently at the display monitor depicting the debris field before them. The area was a disposal site for the Kree Empire, resulting in the area being littered with inoperable ship parts and devices. Nebula was running a scan for unusual energy in the area, but as of yet it was yielding about as much as staring out the window.
“So by Earth standards,” said Mantis, doing the math in her head, “She would have been in stasis for… five and a half Earth years.”
“...yeah,” acknowledged Carol.
“I bet a lot has changed,” added Mantis, “Even if you get home, everything will be different.”
“I know,” replied Carol curtly.
“Can you tell us anything about it?” asked Nebula impatiently, “What sort of energy it uses? What sort of elements were used to stabilize the stasis pod?”
“Uh… Rocket fuel? Stasis metal?” shrugged Carol, “I don’t know; I’m a field agent, not an engineer.”
“That’s for sure,” scoffed Nebula.
“What’s that supposed to mean!?” demanded Carol.
“I’ll take a look at the ship we brought onboard,” suggested Gamora, getting up to leave, “See if I can find out what they use.”
“Sounds good,” nodded Nebula, “Want to check on our prisoner as well?”
“Sure,” called Gamora back as she left.
“We have a prisoner?” asked Peter.
“...you’re the one that brought her,” said Nebula plainly.
“Phyla-Vell!?” realized Peter, “We’re keeping her prisoner!?”
“She tried to kill us, Peter,” said Mantis.
“She seemed pretty cool to me!” protested Peter.
“She tried to kill us , Peter,” repeated Mantis emphatically.
“I mean…” began Peter, before nodding, “That’s fair, actually.”
“Are you guys… always like this?” asked Carol.
“Unfortunately,” sighed Nebula, “Yes.”
***
Several years ago…
Carol hung the damp towel on the hook to dry. She grabbed a pair of white briefs with a cyan star pattern and pulled them on followed by a pair of black sweatpants and a loose white T-shirt. She was just about ready to get into bed when she heard a knock on the door of her quarters. She answered it.
“Monica,” she realized with slight surprise.
“Carol,” said Monica back, “Can I come in?”
Monica wasn’t dressed for bed like Carol, but she wasn’t in her S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform either. She had changed into black jeans with boots and a dark blue jacket. As always, Carol was blown away by how cool she looked.
“Yeah,” said Carol after a moment, “Everything okay?”
“You tell me,” said Monica, closing the door behind her, “You’ve been off lately.”
Carol didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to without outright lying. Carol could bring herself to lie to a lot of people, but not to Monica.
“Go on,” added Monica.
“Hill pulled me aside for a chat the other day,” said Carol.
“I figured that’s what this was about,” sighed Monica, “Project Marvel?”
Carol nodded. Though Project Marvel technically required top clearance, Carol had chosen to share some of the details with Monica. Maybe that was what Hill had been talking about.
“She said that any attachments of mine would hurt my chances as a candidate,” she explained after a moment.
“Attachments like me,” identified Monica.
“Attachments like you,” admitted Carol.
The two looked at one another sadly. They hadn’t had a physical relationship of any kind, but their feelings for one another were certainly complicated. Carol couldn’t say for sure where they stood, but they were incredibly close and if it hadn’t been for Hill’s suggestion that they keep their distance…
“I applied for Project Marvel too,” said Monica suddenly.
“What?”
“I asked around and got a few high-ranking agents on my side,” explained Monica, “Now I’m in consideration for the program too.”
“...congratulations.”
“You know, they said they’re considering sending out more than one agent.”
“Monica,” sighed Carol, “Hill made it pretty clear that-”
“Hill isn’t the only one making the decision,” asserted Monica, “and if you’re going to get all weird and distant with me just so you can run away into space, the least I can do is make some attempt at making sure you don’t go out there alone.”
“Monica…”
“Hey,” she shrugged, “You want to keep your distance, that’s fine. But that won’t stop me from going. You’re not the only one who dreamed of going to space as a kid.”
“No,” smiled Carol, “I guess I’m not.”
***
Today…
“Vibranium,” said Gamora as she returned to the deck, “The ship contains trace amounts of vibranium.”
“Vibranium!?” exclaimed Nebula, looking up from the monitor, “How did humans get a hold of vibranium?”
“A meteor made of it crashed on Earth a long time ago,” explained Mantis, “but it’s use has been consciously restricted.”
“That’s probably for the best,” commented Nebula, “An atomic level civilization isn’t ready for vibranium. They’d blow themselves off the map with it if left to their own devices.”
“Regardless, now we know what we’re looking for,” said Gamora.
“Do we?” asked Nebula impatiently, “Because this ship doesn’t exactly come with a vibranium detector or anything.”
“Send out a low level pulse from our energy weapons,” suggested Peter.
Everyone turned to him in confusion.
“Vibranium reflects all energy at the exact level the energy hits it, right?” explained Peter, “If we send out a pulse across this junkyard, all we have to do is scan for anywhere the pulse reflects back.”
It was true. Vibranium was a complex metal with a variety of unique properties, among which was its ability to reverberate impacts and energies at astounding levels. This much was common knowledge among space travelers, especially ones like Peter who had spent time flying solo and needed to do their own ship repairs.
“He’s right,” admitted Gamora with some difficulty, “Nebula, go ahead and do what he said.”
“I’m sorry,” said Carol, “But I only know enough about space to understand about a third of that.”
“That ship of yours is partially powered by one of the rarest and most valuable metals in the galaxy,” explained Nebula as she prepared the pulse, “If your friend’s ship uses it too, it will be easy to find.”
The crew watched on the monitors as a dull red pulse extended outward toward the debris field of junk before them. Everyone quietly and patiently waited for a response.
“So,” added Peter awkwardly, “How’s Phyla-Vell?”
“Still a prisoner,” said Gamora, “at least until we know for sure she’s not going to try to kill us.”
“I know for sure,” protested Peter.
“Your vote doesn’t count,” dismissed Gamora.
“Says who?”
“Gamora,” said Nebula, “We’re picking up on an energy release equal to our own coming from the debris field. It could be the ship.”
“Let’s take a look,” nodded Gamora.
Nebula activated the controls and brought the ship’s thrusters online. The ship slowly made its way through the field, moving carefully to avoid being struck by any of the remains of ships and equipment that floated around them. The tense silence as they moved was eerie.
“There!” exclaimed Carol suddenly, pointing at one of the monitors, “There she is!”
A small ship identical to the one Carol was in floated into view from behind a scorched, disembodied cruiser wing.
“Alright,” nodded Gamora, “Nebula, bring her onboard.”
“We’re receiving a transmission,” said Nebula.
“On speakers,” said Gamora.
Nebula clicked the button.
“Attention cruiser,” said a kree voice over the speakers, “You are in a restricted area. Your presence here is a violation of the Galactic Council.”
Nebula frantically clicked buttons across the controls. One of the monitors flicked to the rearview to reveal a Kree vessel at least twice their size bearing down on them.
“How did they find us!?” cursed Nebula.
“It must have been the energy pulse,” realized Gamora, “Damnit, Peter!”
“Don’t pin this on me!” exclaimed Peter defensively.
“Mantis, how did you not see this coming?” asked Gamora.
Mantis shrugged.
“What do we do, Gamora?” asked Nebula, focused on the controls.
“Grab a hold of Carol’s friend with our tractor beam,” ordered Gamora, “Then see how quickly we can lose these bastards.”
“Very well,” said Nebula, “You may all want to buckle in.”
The thrusters roared to life as Nebula leaned into the controls. Then there was a loud explosion as the entire ship shook, flickering the lights and monitors on and off as sparks flew from the various control panels. Suddenly none of the monitors were working.
“Great,” sighed Nebula.
“You’re kidding,” said Gamora.
“Nope,” said Nebula, “They hit our power core. We’re dead in the water now.”
“So…” began Carol nervously, “What’s the plan now?”
The Guardians looked at one another worriedly.
***
Several years ago…
“Agent Rambeau,” said Hill, not looking up from her computer, “Come in.”
Monica cautiously walked into Hill’s office.
“I suppose this is about Project Marvel?” said Hill.
“It is,” said Monica, steeling her confidence, “I would like to know why only one candidate was chosen.”
“You mean because we initially said there would be two,” acknowledged Hill, “A fair question. None of the candidates besides Agent Danvers scored nearly high enough on the training missions.”
“All due respect ma’am,” said Monica, “ I did.”
“You did,” nodded Hill.
“Is there a reason you are choosing to go with only one candidate rather than choose me?” asked Monica in a tone both firm and respectful.
“Test scores aren’t the only criteria,” said Hill, “Compatibility with the other candidate is a factor as well.”
“Then this is about Carol.”
“It is.”
“I thought you’d like to know,” said Monica, “Carol approached me shortly before the testing began. She put distance into our relationship, saying she didn’t want the attachment.”
“So you applied for the exact same program as her to prove her wrong,” said Hill plainly.
“I’ve been dreaming of making it into space since I was a kid,” asserted Monica, “This isn’t about Carol. You’ve just decided to make it about her.”
Hill stared back in silence for a moment. Monica didn’t falter. She stared right back. Hill and Monica continued to do this for a few moments before Hill looked away and pulled out a form from one of her folders.
“Very well,” said Hill, “You’ve made your point. I will reassess your consideration.”
“Thank you,” said Monica, doing her best not to show her surprise. She hadn’t expected to succeed.
Monica turned around and left. Hill looked over Monica’s application form from the folder. It was exemplary. It was clear that if there were to be two candidates, Monica was the clear choice for the second one. Hill signed her approval on the form and placed it in a pile of papers to be submitted later that day.
Hill didn’t believe for a second that Carol and Monica had ended their feelings for one another. On the contrary, Hill was now counting on that. Their attachment to one another proved a liability on most missions, but this was different. This was an exploration of a complete unknown. If anything, having an attachment to one another might help Carol and Monica stay committed to their objective.
***
Today…
“One of these days,” grumbled Gamora, “and I don’t know when, we’ll make it through a mission without seeing the inside of a cell.”
Gamora, Peter, Mantis, Nebula, Phyla-Vell, and Carol were all sitting on the floor of a cell with their wrists cuffed in front of them. Two kree guards stood at the ready outside of their cell. The cell consisted of a purple force field walling them off in a small cubic room.
“It makes no difference to me,” shrugged Phyla-Vell, “Prisoner of you guys or prisoner of the Kree. It’s all the same to me.”
Phyla-Vell was a kree herself, but could have passed for human were it not for the yellow marking across her right eye and the eye itself, which glowed. Her white hair was styled into a messy pixie cut. She wore a red and yellow combat armor similar to Gamora’s black one.
Phyla, who had been acting as a mercenary for an enemy crew to the Guardians mere days earlier, had changed sides at a pivotal moment of the conflict after some coaxing from Peter. Though she had helped the Guardians escape, presently Peter was the only one who trusted her.
“What is their deal with you?” asked Peter.
“My father,” explained Phyla-Vell slowly, “was a man named Captain Mar-Vell. He fought for the Kree Army and held a high position of command. But he turned against the empire when asked to execute unarmed civilians during a tense conflict. He was terminated for treason.”
“He held the position of captain but put the lives of others before the orders of his commanding officer,” noted Carol, “He sounds like a hero.”
“You’re one of the few who think so,” said Phyla-Vell, “At least one man wanted me killed for my relationship to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if any of these officers felt the same.”
“I wonder what they’ll do with us …” thought Peter aloud.
“Don’t worry,” assured Mantis cheerily, “Most outcomes I see show us escaping.”
“How in the world is that possible?” asked Gamora.
“Well,” said Mantis, “our first opportunity will present itself when the new prisoner is brought in.”
“New prisoner?”
“Monica!!” cried out Carol, leaping to her feet.
Monica, who had been awakened from her stasis after the kree crew confiscated her ship from the Guardians, was being led down the hall toward the cell by a guard with a large energy gun. Monica seemed resolute, unwilling to show any signs of weakness. For a moment, this fell away when she saw Carol and a weak smile came across her face.
“The guard leading the prisoner has one rifle,” whispered Mantis to Gamora, “The two guards stationed outside the cell each have stun pistols.”
“Sounds like good odds to me,” smiled Gamora quietly.
“Sit down,” ordered one of the kree to Carol, “All prisoners must be seated before we can bring the forcefield down. Failure to comply will result in corporal punishment.”
Carol slowly eased herself back to the floor, keeping an eye on the guard and on Monica. One of the guards pressed a few buttons on the wall, causing the purple wall of energy to disappear in a flash.
Gamora did not miss that opportunity. With the guards’ attention still on Carol, none of them noticed Gamora lunging at them until she was already shoulder checking one of the guards. Another one frantically hit the buttons on the wall to bring the field back up. Gamora, who was now completely on the outside of the cell, swiftly spun around and held her cuffed hands up to where the field would form. The purple energy severed the cuffs and caused them to fall away, freeing Gamora.
Gamora elbowed one of the guards in the gut and pulled his rifle away, using it to blast the second guard. Monica used the distraction to throw her cuffed wrists around the head of the third guard and pull back against his throat, slowly choking him until he passed out on the floor.
“Wow,” whispered Carol.
“And that’s why they call her the most dangerous woman in the galaxy,” smiled Mantis, “Told you we’d escape!”
Gamora approached Monica and gestured for her to show her wrists. Once Monica did, Gamora fired the rifle once at the edge and blasted the mechanics of the cuffs, causing them to fall away. Gamora then fired a single shot at the control panel on the wall, deactivating the forcefield again. She then set about freeing the others.
Monica searched the unconscious bodies of the kree and found two pistols, looking them over and firing a test shot from one into the wall. Carol walked up to Monica silently. The others were grabbing supplies off the other bodies as Carol and Monica stared at one another. Monica slowly offered Carol one of the pistols. Carol reached for it, but grabbed Monica’s hand instead. The two locked eyes. Monica nodded. They kissed.
“Whoa,” said Gamora in surprise, “I didn’t realize she was that kind of friend.”
“Neither did I,” smiled Carol as they pulled away from the kiss. Monica smiled back.
“I guess Hill’s not around to stop us anymore,” said Monica.
“I wouldn’t let her even if she were,” responded Carol.
They kissed again.
“Um, guys?” said Peter uncomfortably, “Can we save this for after we escape the hostile enemy ship?”
“Right,” agreed Nebula, “Gamora, Mantis, any ideas for escape?”
“I have one,” offered Phyla-Vell, who was still standing cuffed in the corner of the cell.
The others turned and looked at her. No one knew quite what to make of this woman yet.
“Do we trust her?” asked Nebula.
“She’s our best shot of getting out of here,” pointed out Gamora, “She knows this kind of ship better than any of us.”
Gamora held out the barrel of her rifle. Phyla-Vell held up her wrists and Gamora blasted her cuffs off as well.
“The brig is kept right next to the reactor core,” explained Phyla-Vell, rubbing her newly freed wrists, “A ship this size almost certainly uses a Psyche-Magnitron reactor.”
“Psyche-Magnitron!?” cried Nebula, “Are you kidding me?! Are the Kree insane!?”
“Uh… Someone loop us in?” requested Carol.
“It’s extremely experimental tech,” explained Nebula, “Even the intergalactic community’s best scientists can’t consistently predict what it’ll do. They’ve been known to do anything from scramble electronics to causing small supernovas.”
Nebula glared angrily back at Phyla-Vell.
“It’s not the kind of thing you want powering a ship!” she concluded.
“The Kree Empire hasn’t shared all its secrets with the Galactic Council,” explained Phyla-Vell, “They’ve been covertly working Psyche-Magnitron tech into all of their fleets to test it more and more.”
“What does this have to do with us?” asked Gamora.
“A Psyche-Magnitron reactor is extremely easy to destabilize,” explained Phyla-Vell, “and Kree Empire laws mandate the ejection of any destabilized reactor.”
“Which would strand them in space,” concluded Gamora, almost impressed.
“Giving us a chance to escape!” added Peter.
“We’ll split into two teams,” explained Gamora, “Nebula: You, Phyla-Vell, and Peter go find that reactor and do what you have to do. The others and I will take back our ship. We’ll keep in contact so we can extract you once your objective is complete. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am!” agreed the Guardians. Phyla-Vell, Carol, and Monica nodded as well.
“Alright everyone,” said Gamora, charging the rifle in her hands, “Let’s go.”
Gamora, Mantis, Carol, and Monica split away from the rest. After making it down several corridors, they rounded the corner. Two kree guards at their posts reached for their weapons, but Gamora had already shot them both in the legs with her stolen energy rifle, causing them to fall to the ground shouting in pain. Mantis made a point to strike both of them in the head as they passed, knocking them out as well.
“Wait!” whispered Monica as they approached their next corner, “Someone’s coming.”
Everyone froze and listened closely. Indeed, it sounded like someone was walking slowly up to their corner. Monica motioned for them all to stay quiet. The moment the kree woman rounded the corner, Monica grabbed one of her wrists and punched the other. The kree grunted as her gun fell to the ground. Monica used this moment of surprise to get behind the kree and grab the utility belt of her uniform.
“What are you-?” began the kree before letting out a high pitch, “Hey!”
Monica had jerked up the back of the kree’s uniform, forcing the pants up her butt.
“On Earth we call this a wedgie,” teased Monica, “Whenever you’re ready, Carol!”
Carol opened fire with her stun pistol, leaving the kree in a convulsing mass on the floor with her uniform still wedged up her butt.
“I…” said Mantis, “...did not foresee that particular solution to the conflict.”
“It’s more of an inside joke,” said Carol, lowering her weapon, “I guess you had to be there. Hey-!”
Everyone turned to Carol as they saw another kree guard had snuck up on them from behind. He had a fistful of Carol’s long blonde hair in his hand as he held her head back, exposing her throat. He held a long and heavy knife in his hand, which he pointed at Carol’s throat.
“No one move!” he ordered, “Drop your weapons now or her head comes right off!”
Gamora, Mantis, and Monica slowly raised their hands, dropping the weapons they were holding to the floor.
“That’s better,” smiled the kree, “Now we’re all going to march single file back to the-”
Suddenly the lights all around them powered down, leaving only faint glowing spots along the bottoms of the walls. The kree looked around for a moment in confusion. Carol seized the opportunity. She elbowed him in the gut. This weakened his stance, but did nothing to release his grip on Carol’s hair. Carol used his disorientation to pull the knife out of his hand. Before he could react, Carol brought the knife up behind her head and severed the hair, freeing herself from his grip. She then administered a single throat punch that knocked him to the floor before she knocked him out with a kick to the head. She turned to look at the others, the dim lighting illuminating her roughly cut short hair.
“Well?” said Carol, “We gonna go? This lighting thing must mean they got the reactor, right?”
“Right,” affirmed Gamora, “Now’s our chance.”
The group made their way to their ship. The two vessels were still attached from when the kree had boarded. They all quickly made their way onboard and began preparing the ship for departure. Once the others were there too, they’d be ready to go.
“Looks like they repaired the damage they did to our power core,” noted Gamora.
“Of course,” said Mantis cheerily, “No sense in keeping a captured ship if it’s still unflyable.”
“Any idea if the others are going to make it?” asked Gamora.
“They will most likely be here any-”
“Did you see that!?” cried Peter as he, Phyla-Vell, and Nebula ran onboard, “We nailed it!”
“Good,” said Gamora, at the controls, “Then let’s get moving!”
The ship’s thrusters ignited as they flew off, ripping away the device holding them against the other ship. Everyone onboard cheered as they put distance between themselves and the now depowered enemy ship.
“Now,” smiled Gamora, getting up from the controls and turning to Carol, “About that favor…”
There was a loud whining that died down as everyone slowly felt the ship shift in momentum. Gamora looked back at the controls. Nebula rushed over and took a look at them. She sighed in defeat.
“Power core is down again,” she sighed.
“I guess they didn’t do such a good job repairing it,” said Gamora.
“How quickly can we get everything back up and running?” asked Monica.
“Between Nebula and I we can probably have us flight ready in a few hours,” said Gamora.
“We’ll be dead by then,” said Nebula quietly.
“Excuse me!?” cried Peter.
Nebula punched a few buttons on the controls and brought up a large display in front of them. With a few more keystrokes she turned the display into a view of the side of the ship, from which they could see a large object faintly glowing blue and moving closer and closer toward them.
“Is that what I think it is?” asked Gamora.
“Yes,” whispered Mantis, “The Psyche-Magnitron reactor. I… Didn’t foresee this obstacle.”
“Is it… heading toward us?” asked Monica nervously.
“Objects in motion stay in motion,” said Gamora, “It’s moving toward us with the same momentum with which it was ejected from the ship.”
“That shouldn’t be much,” commented Peter, “We just sort of pushed it into the airlock and let it float away.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Phyla-Vell, “If we collide with it at any momentum, there’s no telling what could happen.”
“Could we shoot it?” suggested Peter.
“That would be worse,” said Phyla-Vell plainly.
“What if we pushed it away?” suggested Gamora, “Redirect it’s momentum?”
“The tractor beam could set it off too,” pointed out Nebula, “if it’s even working.”
“Do you guys have any spacesuits?”
Everyone turned to look at Carol, who had just spoken.
“I’m just saying,” she said, “If all it needs is a little push, maybe we do it directly.”
“I’m… not zero gravity trained,” admitted Phyla-Vell quietly.
“Neither am I,” admitted Peter.
Gamora, Mantis, and Nebula didn’t speak, but their uncomfortable shifting and broken eye contact communicated the same thing.
“I am,” said Carol plainly.
“Me too!” added Monica.
“It’ll only take one person,” said Mantis, “There’s no sense in risking both of you.”
“I’ll do it,” asserted Carol.
“Carol!” protested Monica.
“No bickering!” barked Gamora, “Carol, if you’re sure about this decision, I’ll show you to our zero G equipment.”
Monica glared at Carol as Gamora walked off with her. Monica couldn’t believe she had gone through so much to make sure Carol didn’t have to go out here alone, but now Carol was about to risk throwing all of that away along with her life.
“Hey,” offered Mantis reassuringly, “This might be the best shot at saving all of us.”
“Yeah,” admitted Monica sadly, “I know.”
***
“You ready, Carol?” came Gamora’s voice over the communicator in her helmet.
“Just about,” said Carol.
Carol was wearing a unique Kree Empire-designed space suit. The suit consisted of a tight blue shirt and matching pants that extended over her feet. It came with a pair of red boots with blue soles, a pair of red gloves, and a red and gold chest piece to be worn over the shirt. The chest piece boasted a golden eight-pointed star, the symbol of the Kree Empire. The chest piece came with a retractable red helmet, which covered the top half of Carol’s face like a mask with a clear shield around the mouth to keep the oxygen inside.
Carol’s utility belt was attached to a cable leading back to the Guardians’ ship. She was slowly floating outward toward the Psyche-Magnitron reactor, which itself was slowly floating toward her. All Carol had to do was give it a gentle shove in the opposite direction. Assuming that didn’t set the whole reactor off, it would keep everyone safe.
Alright, thought Carol, Just a little closer…
Carol clenched her eyes shut. If this was about to be the end, she wanted to remind herself that she had done it. She had made it to the stars. Not only that, but she had gotten to do it with Monica. She never could have dreamed any of that would happen. It was all worth it. She placed her hands against the reactor and gave it a gentle push.
The reactor lights all brightened from blue to a blinding whitish yellow as the light expanded and quickly engulfed Carol’s vision. Her body, which was already weightless, began to feel fainter and fainter before Carol’s eyes fell closed and everything faded to black.
***
“What the hell happened!?” demanded Gamora, “Where’s the reactor!? Where’s Carol!?”
“I don’t know!” said Nebula, “I saw the same thing you did.”
“It looked like the reactor went off,” said Peter.
“Then why are we still here?” asked Phyla-Vell.
“Carol…” whispered Monica weakly.
“Oh no,” said Nebula, “Guys, we’ve got bigger problems. An Acanti is heading our way.”
“Brood?” asked Gamora with concern.
“Almost certainly,” whispered Nebula back, “The reactor going off must have gotten their attention.”
“Brood?” asked Monica.
“An intelligent, predatory species of insect that reproduces by infecting other species,” explained Gamora.
One such infected species was the Acanti, a peaceful spacefaring whale-like species capable of faster-than-light travel. The Brood had long ago infected and enslaved the race to use as their own form of interstellar transport.
“I’m guessing they’re not friendly?” asked Monica nervously.
“This is it,” said Nebula as the large, hive-covered whale appeared on the display.
Everyone watched the being draw closer with fear. Then there was a bright golden flash. Suddenly golden lasers were firing from seemingly nowhere directly at the Acanti. The hives burst apart as the dying insects flew off into space. Finally the last of the hives were blasted away. The Acanti stayed in space for a moment before letting out what could only be described as a cry of joy before slowly swimming away.
Nebula went back to the controls and searched the area. She pinpointed a humanoid figure floating out in space and zoomed in on it. The glowing gold figure was hard to see, but after a moment it became clear that it was none other than Carol Danvers.
“Whoa…” whispered Peter.
“Psyche-Magnitron reactors,” mused Mantis with a smile, “Anything can happen.”
“What do you say, Captain Gamora?” asked Carol over the communicator, folding her arms, “Are we good on that favor now?”
Gamora chuckled and spoke back into the communicator.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
“Permission to board?”
“Granted,” smiled Gamora, nodding to Nebula.
Nebula opened their airlock for Carol to fly into. A few minutes later Carol marched onto the bridge, still wearing the space suit but having retracted the helmet. She approached Monica slowly. Monica rushed up to Carol and threw her arms around her. Carol pulled Monica in and kissed her hard on the lips. Monica kissed back just as hard. The other watched on uncomfortably.
“I have no regrets,” said Carol happily as she slowly pulled away from the kiss.
“I knew you wouldn’t,” chuckled Monica.
***
“I still don’t like this,” said Nebula, “Earth’s status is still in limbo. We could attract a lot of unwanted attention by doing this.”
“They were going to have to get home somehow,” shrugged Mantis, “Humanity is the one that sent them out here in the first place. I’m sure the Galactic Council would understand.”
“I’d rather avoid dealing with them entirely,” said Nebula.
“This must be nostalgic for you,” said Phyla-Vell to Peter, “returning to Earth after all this time.”
“Eh,” shrugged Peter.
“We really appreciate it,” said Carol to the crew, “We weren’t sure if we’d make it back without help.”
“We’re almost there,” said Nebula, “Dropping out of slipspace.”
The ship lurched as their movement once again became subject to physics. Nebula clicked on her controls a few times and pulled up the display showing Earth.
“Five years,” whispered Monica, “I wonder what’s changed.”
“A lot, probably,” said Mantis, “In the time you were gone, Earth had its first contact with aliens!”
“Man,” sighed Monica, “It’s such a ripoff that that happened after we were sent to space to look for aliens.”
“Hm,” said Nebula, “I have… unfortunate news.”
Everyone turned to Nebula expectantly.
“There’s some sort of energy emanating from the northern magnetic pole,” said Nebula, “It’s slowly spreading across the planet. The readings are similar to those found in surveys of necromantic cults.”
“What do you mean?” asked Monica.
“I mean,” said Nebula, “Earth is dying.”