"Nineteen jumps, Jason," Leander said, his voice dropping an octave, carrying that vibrating metallic resonance that made the ship's hull hum in sympathy. "I might be new to deep space, but I'm not a total idiot. We crossed nineteen dimensional barriers. Why the hell did you lie to me?"
Jason didn't turn around, but his shoulders hitched. "I... look, this bucket of bolts is older than both of us combined! The nav-computer is glitchy. I thought we'd drifted off-course into a pocket of folded space. I was just trying to recalibrate on the fly so we didn't end up inside a sun. We got lucky, alright? We're here. Xandar is right in front of us. I'll get the fuel, and then I'm hauling your ass back to your little blue marble. Just relax."
Jason spoke with a desperate kind of conviction, his eyes wide and sincere, the way a professional gambler looks when he's betting his last credit on a losing hand.
Leander stared at the back of the alien's head for a long beat. He could feel the lie—it tasted like ozone and nervous sweat—but the sight of the vibrant, golden-blue planet filling the viewscreen was enough to make him reconsider. He unclenched his fist, and the metal wires that had been hovering like vipers around Jason's neck retracted, melting back into a harmless lump of alloy on the floor.
"Fine," Leander muttered, the golden glow in his eyes dimming slightly. "Let's just get this over with. I need to find a map, a database, anything that points toward Earth."
Jason let out a breath he'd been holding for three sectors. He raised his arms, revealing the gruesome network of red welts and half-formed scabs where Leander's "restraints" had bitten into his skin. He looked like he'd been through a meat grinder.
Leander felt a flicker of guilt. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Jason's shoulder.
"Hey! What are you—!" Jason recoiled, his hand instinctively darting to the empty holster at his hip. His eyes were wide with terror, expecting another round of torture.
Instead, a warm, liquid gold light poured from Leander's palm, flowing over Jason's skin like honey. The light sought out the wounds, sealing the jagged cuts and knitting the torn flesh back together in seconds. As the light worked, Leander's sensory perception sharpened. He realized Jason wasn't just some scrawny space-rat. Under that leathery red skin, the alien's musculature was dense, his bone structure reinforced. On a human scale, this guy was pushing the absolute limit of physical perfection—a twenty-point peak.
As the healing finished, a strange pattern emerged on Jason's skin—raised, dark dots that formed a geometric, tattoo-like sequence across his arms and chest. It didn't look natural; it looked like a brand.
Jason watched the last of his scars vanish, his expression shifting from fear to a dark, brooding somberness. He rubbed his arms, the reddish hue of his skin returning to a healthy, vibrant glow.
"Jason, those patterns..." Leander started, his curiosity getting the better of him. "They don't look like birthmarks. And your blood—it's red. Just like mine. Are we more similar than you're letting on?"
Jason's grip on the controls tightened until the metal groaned. He threw a sharp, jagged glare over his shoulder, his teeth bared in a silent snarl, but he didn't say a word. The silence was his armor.
"Alright, keep your secrets," Leander sighed, leaning back against the co-pilot's console. "Just tell me about the big rock outside. What's the deal with Xandar?"
Jason cleared his throat, his voice returning to a professional, if slightly annoyed, clip. "Xandar is the crown jewel. Capital of the Nova Empire, center of this whole star system. Their tech is Tier 1, their laws are strict, and the Nova Corps—their police—are obsessed with 'order.' As long as you aren't a raving lunatic or a galactic terrorist, it's the safest place to breathe. But safe isn't cheap. Fuel credits here cost a lung and a kidney."
Jason paused, looking Leander up and down. "By the way... you actually have any money? Or are we just hoping they accept 'mysterious golden powers' as payment?"
The name Xandar hit Leander like a physical weight. Images of the Guardians of the Galaxy flashed through his mind—the Milano, the Nova Corps fleet, and that ego-maniacal human, Peter Quill. He wondered where Star-Lord was right now. Probably still running errands for Yondu and the Ravagers, blissfully unaware that a "neighbor" from Earth was currently hijacking a spaceship in his backyard. And Rocket? Groot? Were they already a legendary duo of mercenaries, or were they still rotting in some backwater prison?
"I don't have credits," Leander said, snapping back to reality. "But I have this." He waved a hand, and a piece of high-density, reinforced metal he'd salvaged from an old electroshock device floated into the air. "It's a unique alloy. High-grade. Surely someone on a tech-planet like this will trade for it?"
Jason tapped a few icons on the holographic display, his eyes scanning the docking protocols. "Damn it, let's see. If the quality is actually decent, maybe..."
He stood up, snatched the metal out of the air, and marched toward the back of the cabin. "The ship is on auto-approach. Thirteen minutes until we're in the docking cradle. The Nova Empire has this place fully automated. They'll park us, lock us down, and start the meter. It's a hundred credits a day just to sit on the tarmac. Not the worst, but it adds up."
Jason walked over to a bulky, industrial-looking machine at the rear of the hold. He slid the metal piece into a scanning slot and flipped a switch. The machine began to hum, a series of violet lasers dancing over the surface of the alloy.
"Jason, talk to me," Leander said, following him. "I'm a fish out of water here. Who are the big players? I've heard whispers of the Kree. The Sovereign? What about the Chitauri? And the Titans... are there many of them left?"
The moment the word 'Kree' left Leander's lips, Jason's hand clamped onto the side of the scanner so hard the plastic casing cracked. He turned to Leander, his pupils dilated with a raw, unfiltered hatred.
"You want the layout? Fine," Jason spat. "The Kree Empire, the Nova Empire, and the Sovereign. Those are the big three. They own the star charts. Everyone else is just fighting over the crumbs. The Kree are a collective of blue-skinned fascists who think they're the pinnacle of evolution. The Sovereign are golden-skinned snobs who think they're too good to breathe the same air as the rest of us. And the Nova Corps? They're the ones trying to keep the other two from burning the galaxy down."
He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The Chitauri aren't a 'power.' They're a plague. They were conquered years ago by the Mad Titan, Thanos. They're his personal foot-soldiers now. As for the 'Titan race'... there is no race. Just him. The last of a dead world. Everyone knows that, kid. Even the hatchlings on the rim."
Jason's contempt for Leander's ignorance was palpable, but beneath the arrogance, there was a tremor in his voice.
"The Nova Empire talks a big game about 'interstellar peace,'" Jason continued, mocking the phrase with a sneer. "It's a lie. They protect their own. The rest of the galaxy can rot. They watch Thanos burn entire civilizations to the ground, and as long as he stays out of Xandarian space, they don't move a finger. The Sovereigns are even worse. They just hide behind their remote-pilot fleets and watch the carnage on their screens."
Leander watched Jason's face. The man was vibrating with a suppressed fury that seemed to go deeper than just political disagreement. "What about the Kree specifically? You seemed... reactive when I mentioned them."
Jason went deathly silent. The violet light of the scanner reflected in his widening eyes. "The Kree? They're a cancer. If the universe had any justice, every last one of them would burn. And Ronan... if I ever get the chance, I'll pull his heart out through his throat."
"Ronan the Accuser?" Leander asked softly. "What did he do to you?"
Jason didn't answer. He turned back to the machine as it emitted a sharp, final beep. The screen filled with data in a language Leander couldn't read—a series of sharp, angular glyphs and scrolling bar graphs.
Jason weighed the metal piece in his palm, his expression shifting to one of genuine surprise. "High quality. Class A hardness, B+ durability... and the heat resistance is off the charts. This little chunk alone is worth at least a hundred, maybe a hundred and fifty credits. How much more of this do you have? Where are you keeping the rest?"
Jason's eyes darted around the cabin, looking for a hidden stash or a secret floor compartment.
"I have enough," Leander said evasively. "Let's find a buyer first."
"That's the easy part," Jason said, a greedy glint appearing in his eyes. "Xandar is a trade hub. I can flip this in ten minutes. The database didn't have a perfect match—found eight similar alloys, but nothing with this specific crystalline structure. It's rare. We can mark it up as 'exotic debris' from a collapsed star system."
A genuine, slightly manic smile appeared on Jason's face as the ship gave a gentle lurch—the feeling of the docking clamps engaging. "We're here. Once we're out, I've got my own business to attend to. You go play tourist, find your coordinates, and meet me back here in six hours."
As the airlock hissed open, Jason excitedly grabbed a small pouch from a side locker. Inside, a faint purple light pulsed—the ship's emergency power core, or perhaps something else he'd been hiding. He stuffed it into his backpack and practically ran toward the exit.
Leander stayed in the cockpit for a moment, closing his eyes. Through his connection to the metal of the ship and the energy in his back, he could sense a bright, singular point of light moving slowly through the Xandarian spaceport. He let out a long, shaky breath.
I'm here. I'm finally on a map.