[ Gamora readies herself as much as she can, but the sudden initiation of her nerves still hits her like a runaway train. Her system screeches with sudden sensation, and she feels like she's being ripped apart—
All things considered, her reaction is restrained. She inhales sharply, tensing all over, but she doesn't curl in on herself or yank away from Peter. She forces herself to breathe through the discomfort – or allowing her system to filter through the overwhelming rush of sensory data; whichever is more appropriate for an android.
Gamora speaks levelly, but through a clenched jaw. ]
[ Saving humanity and many other races from assimilation depended on Peter's survival.
Otherwise, they might as well surrender to the Phalanx now and get it over with.
Gamora leans back against the table, letting herself slowly unwind. Metal slides back to cover what would be her ribs, and she rests her fingertips over the newly-sensitive midsection. It throbs – in her perception of it – but she knows that now, she'll be able to regrow the tissue that usually gives her the passable appearance of a living being.
She'll be back to normal soon. ]
All that matters is that we have the gun. We should be able to destroy Korath, now.
It's likelier he has a record of your DNA, and he's scanning for it, specifically. The Phalanx collected a sample in the future, and while they can't track you in motion, they can set up wide search parameters to narrow down your location.
So any time you land, he can potentially track your signature. That's probably how he found us so quickly on Contraxia.
[ Gamora tugs at the frayed fabric of her undershirt. ]
[ He doesn't say it aloud, but Peter is currently wearing an expression that says, Holy fuck.
It takes a few seconds for him to register her question, but at length, he silently nods, getting to his feet and heading over to an old, worn shirt left carelessly draped over a crate close to the bunk. The lettering and design – an advertisement for a canoe rental place – is faded after 26 years, but still legible.
[ Gamora isn't going to complain, not when her options are so limited. She steps around Peter, putting some distance between them as she turns her back to tug on the new shirt. ]
What's concerning you?
[ He's not subtle, but she's had time to study Peter's reactions – years in the future – to recognize his tells, even as an android. ]
[ He pauses as she puts space between them – and if he waits half of a breath before turning away, he'll blame it on his own distraction.
But turn he does, offering her that bare bit of privacy, before dragging a hand down his face. ]
There's eventually gonna be some giant, evil A.I. that wants to assimilate the universe, and they want me dead. So they zap an agent back through time, who's practically unkillable and unstoppable. And the only way I'm safe from him is if I'm flying through space.
And I've got the Ravagers on my tail. And I've got a planet-destroying artifact in my bag.
But even putting all that aside, let's say we manage to chuck Korath off a cliff, I make peace with Yondu, and manage to offload the Orb. Even if I survive all of this, my reward is, what? My life and a robot-apocalypse in, like, less than a decade.
[ Gamora tugs off her undershirt as she listens to Peter, dropping the practically-shredded bit of fabric to the side. She pulls on the shirt Peter offered her, and even though the fit is a little odd, it still serves its purpose.
She turns back to Peter, gathering her hair and pulling it over her shoulder to deal with the hectic curls – a style courtesy of being thrown through the air. ]
A lot has been dropped on your shoulders.
[ It's an empathetic statement as much as it is agreeing with his assessment of reality. ]
And it's not often people have a window into their future. But—
[ She stops short, frowning as she seems to reevaluate her thoughts. ]
I meant that the Phalanx control of the galaxy isn't guaranteed. We could try to do something about it in this time, instead of only trying to keep you alive.
So you're suggesting we hunt down a bunch of strangers and spout off some shit about thwarting a shit-awful future.
[ He brightens his voice, raising both hands in a sort of disarming gesture, ]
"Hey, sorry, I know you don't know me, and I don't really know you, either. But if it helps, Gamora tells me – this is Gamora, by the way, a decommissioned assassin-bot from the future. Anyway, Gamora tells me that ten years from now, we're gonna be fighting side by side against a rogue A.I. that's gonna try to assimilate the universe. Any interest in getting a head start on that?
"Oh, you shot me. Okay. I'll take that as a 'no.'"
[ She lets him carry on – because this is no different from the Peter she already knows well – but she doesn't look amused by his sarcasm.
(Assuming she can actually be amused, in the first place.) ]
One of them would probably stab you before he shoots you.
[ Is that better? ]
You were willing to believe me. They could be the same.
[ Drax is stuck in prison with nothing to lose; in fact, Gamora knows he's already tangled with the Phalanx.
She's more at risk in that circumstance than Peter.
And with Rocket? She thinks their in would be through Groot; Groot also knows the Phalanx and what they're capable of.
Convincing him to convince Rocket...? That might be more of difficult. But, then again, profit can be a strong motivator, and knowledge and time have the potential to promise Rocket mountains of units in the midst of dealing with the Phalanx.
He is, however, a wild card, and Gamora isn't entirely certain what might sway him; he'd already been working with Peter before she came into the picture. ]
I was willing to believe you 'cause I have a psychotic murderbot tracking me across the galaxy, and as far as I can tell, you're the only one willing to be on my side.
[ A pause, then, ]
I mean that in a nice way, by the way. Not in a "you're my only option" kind of way.
... Although maybe those things aren't mutually exclusive.
Two of them have already encountered the Phalanx. One has lost his people to the assimilation; he is the only known survivor. The other has seen the fallout of their destruction, but not been directly affected by it.
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All things considered, her reaction is restrained. She inhales sharply, tensing all over, but she doesn't curl in on herself or yank away from Peter. She forces herself to breathe through the discomfort – or allowing her system to filter through the overwhelming rush of sensory data; whichever is more appropriate for an android.
Gamora speaks levelly, but through a clenched jaw. ]
I think— that's everything.
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Largely unnecessary, it seems, since Gamora seems to be in control – and subdued as it is, Peter can still tell she must be in pain. ]
You okay?
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Yes.
[ Her systems are reaching normal levels again, so that's probably a fair definition of "okay," by human standards.
A beat of hesitation as she draws a few more slow breaths, and then, ]
Thank you.
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[ He lifts a shoulder in a small shrug. ]
Thank you, too.
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[ Saving humanity and many other races from assimilation depended on Peter's survival.
Otherwise, they might as well surrender to the Phalanx now and get it over with.
Gamora leans back against the table, letting herself slowly unwind. Metal slides back to cover what would be her ribs, and she rests her fingertips over the newly-sensitive midsection. It throbs – in her perception of it – but she knows that now, she'll be able to regrow the tissue that usually gives her the passable appearance of a living being.
She'll be back to normal soon. ]
All that matters is that we have the gun. We should be able to destroy Korath, now.
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[ He slumps back in his seat, rubbing at his eyes. ]
But Contraxia was where we were setting up to do it, right? We're gonna have to come up with a new plan of attack.
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[ Gamora goes to where she abandoned her vest, frowning down at the scorched hole.
Well, that's a problem. ]
Korath is probably tracking your DNA signature, which means we can lead him somewhere we won't have to worry over collateral damage.
[ Gamora bunches up the vest, dropping it onto the table dismissively. ]
Anywhere we can establish a position that won't give him an edge.
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[ That gets his attention, and he immediately sits up, gawking at her. ]
Are you serious? I thought he was just, I dunno. Playing detective and making educated guesses.
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So any time you land, he can potentially track your signature. That's probably how he found us so quickly on Contraxia.
[ Gamora tugs at the frayed fabric of her undershirt. ]
Do you have something I can wear?
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It takes a few seconds for him to register her question, but at length, he silently nods, getting to his feet and heading over to an old, worn shirt left carelessly draped over a crate close to the bunk. The lettering and design – an advertisement for a canoe rental place – is faded after 26 years, but still legible.
He holds it out to her. ]
This should probably fit you.
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Have you had this since you were a child?
[ It doesn't hurt that Gamora is naturally lithe, but this still looks old. ]
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[ He looks a little preoccupied, running a hand through his hair, but he glances over at her. ]
It's survived this long. It'll be fine.
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What's concerning you?
[ He's not subtle, but she's had time to study Peter's reactions – years in the future – to recognize his tells, even as an android. ]
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[ He pauses as she puts space between them – and if he waits half of a breath before turning away, he'll blame it on his own distraction.
But turn he does, offering her that bare bit of privacy, before dragging a hand down his face. ]
There's eventually gonna be some giant, evil A.I. that wants to assimilate the universe, and they want me dead. So they zap an agent back through time, who's practically unkillable and unstoppable. And the only way I'm safe from him is if I'm flying through space.
And I've got the Ravagers on my tail. And I've got a planet-destroying artifact in my bag.
But even putting all that aside, let's say we manage to chuck Korath off a cliff, I make peace with Yondu, and manage to offload the Orb. Even if I survive all of this, my reward is, what? My life and a robot-apocalypse in, like, less than a decade.
So maybe I'm starting to freak out.
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She turns back to Peter, gathering her hair and pulling it over her shoulder to deal with the hectic curls – a style courtesy of being thrown through the air. ]
A lot has been dropped on your shoulders.
[ It's an empathetic statement as much as it is agreeing with his assessment of reality. ]
And it's not often people have a window into their future. But—
[ She stops short, frowning as she seems to reevaluate her thoughts. ]
It isn't set in stone.
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[ And the words are cast dryly. ]
I mean, Korath could blast my head off. That'd be a pretty drastic difference.
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[ Be a big damn hero. ]
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You and me against an entire race of cyborgs. I dunno how well that's gonna go.
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We have the advantage of time and information. And there are others, in the future – people you fight alongside.
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So you're suggesting we hunt down a bunch of strangers and spout off some shit about thwarting a shit-awful future.
[ He brightens his voice, raising both hands in a sort of disarming gesture, ]
"Hey, sorry, I know you don't know me, and I don't really know you, either. But if it helps, Gamora tells me – this is Gamora, by the way, a decommissioned assassin-bot from the future. Anyway, Gamora tells me that ten years from now, we're gonna be fighting side by side against a rogue A.I. that's gonna try to assimilate the universe. Any interest in getting a head start on that?
"Oh, you shot me. Okay. I'll take that as a 'no.'"
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(Assuming she can actually be amused, in the first place.) ]
One of them would probably stab you before he shoots you.
[ Is that better? ]
You were willing to believe me. They could be the same.
[ Drax is stuck in prison with nothing to lose; in fact, Gamora knows he's already tangled with the Phalanx.
She's more at risk in that circumstance than Peter.
And with Rocket? She thinks their in would be through Groot; Groot also knows the Phalanx and what they're capable of.
Convincing him to convince Rocket...? That might be more of difficult. But, then again, profit can be a strong motivator, and knowledge and time have the potential to promise Rocket mountains of units in the midst of dealing with the Phalanx.
He is, however, a wild card, and Gamora isn't entirely certain what might sway him; he'd already been working with Peter before she came into the picture. ]
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[ A pause, then, ]
I mean that in a nice way, by the way. Not in a "you're my only option" kind of way.
... Although maybe those things aren't mutually exclusive.
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I am your only option.
[ So it's far from offensive. ]
But just because Korath finishes with you is no guarantee he won't continue to target the others. They could pose a potential threat, still.
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So tell me honestly – what are the odds of any of them believing two random strangers that any of this shit is real?
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The third...
[ Gamora pauses, and then just shrugs.
Who knows with Rocket, truly. ]
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