Guardians of the Galaxy: Collect Them All Page 4

  Groot crouched. He placed a single hand on Rocket’s shoulder, large enough to cover half his torso. “I am Groot.”

  If they said anything else, it was too soft for Gamora to hear. With the Kree prisoner by her side, she approached the others, keeping a wary eye out for anything else that might escalate the situation. The group was smaller than before. Fewer guards, fewer prisoners—the rest were either dead or inside the Kyln or both, Gamora supposed. Multicolored blood spatter and scorch marks stained the area.

  The commander stood in front of Quill, shoulders slumped, but eyes sharp. “You realize we’re not thanking you for your assistance.”

  “Fair,” he agreed. Quill didn’t sound cheerful about it, though. His eyes lingered on the wood in Gamora’s hands as she came to stand by his side. She hadn’t given the shard to the Kree prisoner yet. She didn’t think she would now.

  She held it up to the commander. “This Groot wasn’t fighting. Was this necessary?”

  “Was he running?”

  “Yes. But he wasn’t violent. He wasn’t a threat, he—”

  “Look, he was a prisoner, he tried to run. We’re authorized to use lethal force to prevent escape.”

  “Authorized! Doesn’t mean you should!”

  Even when she raised her voice, the commander wasn’t intimidated. If he knew of Star-Lord, he knew of Gamora, too, yet he didn’t bat an eyelash.

  Now, she would have preferred some cowering.

  One guard took the Kree prisoner by her side back into custody. Good, Gamora thought. One less worry. She turned to Groot. “Groot?” She didn’t know how to phrase it. “Did you recognize that Flora colossus?”

  Because he had recognized them. She was certain of it.

  “I am Groot.” The words came deliberate, unsure. He looked up, still crouching beside Rocket, and nodded. “I…am Groot.”

  Rocket had skepticism written all over his face. “The other Groot was what now?”

  “I am Groot.”

  “It was you?” Gamora repeated carefully. “Not simply another Flora colossus. Not simply a relative. But you?”

  “Are you certain?” Drax asked. “Perhaps he simply looked similar.”

  Rocket snorted. “Yeah, no offense, but you all got a similar kinda arboreal look going on.”

  “Would you recognize yourself if you looked in a mirror?” Gamora said. “Give Groot some credit.” She held up the shard of wood again. She studied it with equal parts guilt—she hadn’t been able to keep him safe, hadn’t even had a chance to talk to him—and wonder.

  How was this possible?

  “Could he be a genetic duplicate? A twin? Or grown from”—Quill made a vague, animated sort of gesture—“I don’t know, some acorns you dropped by accident? Acorns are seeds, right? You know, I actually have no idea how Flora colossi work. Or acorns. Never mind. Carry on.”

  “There was a second, older Flora colossus at the market, according to the prisoner.” Gamora narrowed her eyes in thought. “Someone is selling Flora colossi? Found this younger Groot duplicate and added him to their wares?”

  “All this fuss over some tree,” a guard muttered. “What’s going on lately?”

  Gamora had been nearly ready to jump him over the first comment. The second one made her pause. “Lately? What do you mean?”

  The guard glanced at his commander, who nodded. “We got…well, several guards received an attempt at bribery this week. Someone wanted a heads-up if any Flora colossi turned up.”

  “Why?” Quill demanded.

  The guard shrugged.

  “Who?” Gamora asked.

  The guard hesitated until the commander cut in. “If we tell you, do you agree to be gone within the next five minutes?”

  “You know what? We’ll even make it three,” Quill said.

  Drax crossed his arms. “It is a generous offer.”

  The commander smiled wryly. “It was the Collector.”

  6

  I NEVER liked that guy.” Rocket grouchily worked the navigation controls as he talked. “You guys seen the way he looks at me and Groot? He’s all fascinated.”

  A shudder ran down his spine. He’d seen that look on a handful of faces in his life, and it never spelled anything good. It was the kind of fascination a person showed right before cutting you open to see how well you worked.

  If the Collector had his way, the best Rocket could hope for was to at least get a comfortable cage in the Collector’s private museum of curiosities, antiquities, and monstrosities. As an Elder of the Universe, the Collector took full advantage of his immortality to ignore pesky mortal morality and indulge in his messed-up hobby.

  What Rocket wouldn’t give for a one-hour shopping spree in the guy’s museum, though. The Collector had amassed some sweet gadgets over the years. Rocket could upgrade the ship, the weapons—probably whip up a couple of nice loud explosives—

  “We don’t have to like him,” Gamora said. “We only need answers from him.”

  “Gotta say, I am seriously curious about those answers.” Quill turned over the boot in his lap and wiggled his bare toes against the dashboard. With the ship on autopilot, he was taking time to fine-tune the boots’ propulsion system. And stink up the cabin. Real nice, Quill.

  Gamora sat backwards in the gunner’s seat, her arms across its backrest. “My best guess: The Collector got wind of Flora colossi in this part of the galaxy, and is sniffing around because he wants one for his collection. They’re uncommon, they’re interesting, they’re powerful. Right up his alley.”

  “Think he knows about the duplicate?” Quill asked.

  Gamora just shrugged.

  “I still say we should hit up the Knowhere market,” Rocket said. “And not just ’cause I want a new octrical finner.”

  “Based on what that prisoner said, the seller’s long gone,” Quill said. “We’re better off seeing what the Collector knows. I don’t trust him, but I do trust he does his research if he’s after something.”

  “I know that! I’m just saying.” Rocket leaned back in the co-pilot’s seat. “Our octrical finner is a piece of junk, is all. Don’t blame me if we’re spinning in circles by next week.”

  “I am Groot,” Groot mumbled. He seemed to have only half-followed the conversation.

  “We did not know either, friend,” Drax said.

  Rocket snickered. “Yeah, I mean, if I’d known you could be duplicated, I’d’ve grown a whole army of Groots years ago. Come at me now, Badoon. Let’s see whatcha got. Me? I got a forest.”

  “There’s no way the normal Flora colossus reproductive process can lead to genetic duplicates, is there?” Gamora asked.

  Groot shook his head.

  Quill looked up from his boot. “So it’s more like cloning. Do we think the older Flora colossus the seller apparently had at the market was a duplicate, too? Did they sell other saplings? I mean, jeez, how many Groots could we have running around? This one hooked up with a bad character and got dragged into petty crime, which…” He trailed off with a glance at Rocket.

  He shrugged his agreement. “It’s in character. No argument there.”

  “There are many reasons one might purchase a Flora colossus, duplicate or no duplicate.” Drax had a dark look. “These reasons are not all pleasant.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Quill said.

  “I am Groot,” Groot said miserably.

  Rocket made a “psh” sound. “Come on, buddy. Quit your moping. We’ll find whoever sold those Groots and fling them out the airlock, then round up any other Flora colossi they might’ve sold. Easy.”

  “There are refreshingly few galaxies at stake,” Gamora agreed.

  “I am Groot.”

  “Is that the plan?” Drax asked. “Find the seller, and save the Groots?”

  “Um, yeah,” Rocket said, side-eying him. “Can’t have lowlifes running around with Groot knockoffs. It’s a matter of principle. That is the plan, right, Quill?”

  “That, and
figure out if it’s connected to what’s been happening with our Groot. There has to be a reason he’s so fragile all of a sudden.”

  “Yeah, that. Easy.”

  “Easy,” Gamora echoed.

  She still looked worried, though. So did Quill and Drax. Groot, most of all.

  Whiners.

  The sight of those splinters on the walkway flashed before Rocket’s eyes. He cringed.

  “Gimme that.” Rocket crawled over the armrest of the navigator’s seat and perched there to snatch the boot from Quill’s lap. “It’s a micro-propulsor, not a warship. You need delicacy.”

  “Go for it, man.” Quill raised both hands. “I asked hours ago if you wanted a stab at it.”

  “Yeah, well, ’scuse me for having faith in your skills,” he grumbled.

  Quill spun his chair to face the others and continued on about the Collector and Groot and whatever else they were fretting about.

  No reason to be fretting, Rocket thought, bowed over the boot and furiously poking at Quill’s sloppy handiwork. No reason at all. Jeez.

  Groot would be just fine.

  THE COLLECTOR’S latest museum was located in an isolated arm of the galaxy, far from civilized life and farther still from any notion of common sense.

  The shape of said museum was a prime example of that: a gigantic frog floating in space.

  “Gotta say, I’ll never get tired of that,” Rocket said.

  “I am already tired of it.” Drax said, his face near the viewport as the ship approached. Gamora could practically see the frog reflected in his eyes. “Why.”

  “Of all my questions for the Collector, that ranks low,” Gamora said. A moment later, she admitted: “It does rank, however.”

  The Collector let them dock and enter so fast, she wondered whether he’d expected them. Within minutes, he had kissed the backs of their hands in welcome, and they were trailing him through the halls.

  “Sooo. Tivan. I see you’ve redecorated.” Quill stealthily wiped his hand on his pants.

  Drax was still staring at his own hand in horror.

  “You like?” The Collector swept an arm at the massive gilded walls. They sparkled so brightly that Gamora was tempted to shade her eyes. A floral-themed relief pattern stretched the length of the hall.

  It was almost—but not quite—as tacky as the Collector’s clothes, which currently consisted of gold-sequined pants and a metallic, sparkling cape lined with purple fur.

  “It’s, uh…very…” Quill fumbled.

  “Is it real gold?” Rocket tapped the wall with a knuckle. “’Cause then, yes, I seriously like.”

  “It sparkles,” Drax added helpfully.

  “I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

  The Collector watched the five of them with something that resembled fondness. Good: He might actually give them answers. Their history with the Collector was long and complicated enough that it could’ve gone either way, depending on his mood—or theirs, to be fair.

  “So, tell me, my friends,” he asked, warm yet wary, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “You get any Groots in, lately?” Rocket cocked his head at the Elder, abandoning his inspection of the walls.

  “Pardon?”

  “Flora colossi,” Gamora said. “We know you’ve been asking around. Why?”

  “I see. Interesting.” He folded his hands before him. His cloak glistened with the movement.

  “I am Groot.” Groot stepped forward. He narrowed his eyes. “I am Groot.”

  “Could someone perhaps…translate?”

  “He’s sayin’ you ought to answer our questions, or he’ll jam his fingers into your skull and wriggle them around a bit.” Rocket helpfully motioned his claws to illustrate.

  “He did not say that,” Quill said.

  “I paraphrased!”

  The Collector raised an eyebrow.

  “We encountered a Flora colossus that appears to be a duplicate of Groot. Your name came up. We would”—Drax crossed his arms—“prefer to discuss the situation as friends.”

  “Have we ever been anything else?” The Collector tapped his chin thoughtfully, as though recalling their previous interactions. “Very well. Given our close, trusting relationship—”

  Gamora kept a passive face, but only barely.

  “—I would be happy to explain my part in this. Come, my friends. Allow me to offer you a drink—a zengrita?”

  Rocket and Drax perked up. So did Quill, but Gamora knew there was more behind it. Quill was savvier than he let on. “Now there’s an idea,” he said sunnily.

  They followed the Collector through the aquatic wing, past a display of kaleidoscopic shells to a crystal tunnel running through bright, gray-green water. Coral lay scattered across the aquarium floor, growing several inches in the time it took them to walk past; a winged creature soared by in a self made air bubble, snatching fish from the water in five-pronged claws. An opaque dust cloud clung to the curved tunnel glass, shifting sideways as they went. From a certain angle, Gamora could swear she saw a set of eyes within,following their every move.

  “Are those seahorses?” Quill asked, walking at the front of the group alongside the Collector. “Are those sardines?”

  The two of them extolled the virtues of what Gamora assumed were aquatic Earth species. No doubt the Collector knew Quill’s intent, but he was prideful enough to enjoy the attention regardless.

  “This is taking too long,” Rocket said. He and Groot had lagged behind to walk beside Gamora.

  “I am Groot.”

  “Since when is Quill so interested in a buncha fish?”

  “You know he isn’t,” Gamora said.

  “Yeah, yeah, diplomacy, whatever.”

  “I don’t enjoy it, either.”

  Gamora knew that she contributed more to the team than brute strength and a fearsome reputation. She acknowledged those strengths, of course—took pride in them—but they were only tools. Fighting was not always the solution, but it was an option they usually kept in mind.

  Not so with the Collector.

  An uppercut would do little to a practically immortal Elder of the Universe like the Collector. Their only means of leverage was the threat of destroying his museum—and they shouldn’t play that card first thing. They had never gone up against the Collector without a good reason, and Gamora suspected that was part of why he’d never sought payback. He’d simply taken their conflicts in stride. As far as she could tell, he had a twisted sort of respect—even admiration—for the Guardians of the Galaxy, and it wasn’t worth endangering that simply to get their answers sooner. Better to accept his drinks, indulge his fish-related interests, and leave on good terms with their information.

  Having their usual go-to plan—violence—eliminated made Gamora uneasy, but the Guardians had enough enemies already. They didn’t need to add the Collector to that list. Besides: Between Levet, the Kree ship, and the Kyln, they’d had a long day. They deserved a drink.

  She tore her eyes away from a diamond-like creature that seemed to shatter and reform with every breath, and followed the Collector into his office. The space was as ludicrous as the rest of the museum: one wall a high-tech console featuring numerous screens, the opposite wall covered in mounted skulls of species Gamora did not recognize. A number of peculiarities littered the rest of the room, the most normal of which was a floating red-gold settee.

  The Collector disappeared through a door, returning with a serving tray holding six fiercely pink frosted drinks and a single pitcher of water.

  No server, Gamora noted. Interesting. The Collector normally reveled in having people at his beck and call.

  Groot had the choice of the zengrita or the water, and took the latter. The rest of them gracefully accepted their drinks. Gamora and Quill made brief eye contact, and she nodded. She’d refrain from sipping until a few minutes had passed. They needed a backup in case the drinks were spiked.

  “Groot?” Quill asked casually. The way he eyed the Collector in
stead of Groot made it clear he was bringing up the topic, rather than addressing their teammate.

  “Groot,” the Collector agreed.

  “I am Groot.” Groot practically sighed the words.

  The Collector put aside the serving tray, sat down in a plush seat before the console, and tapped several keys. A holo zapped out from one of the screens in the wall, fizzling until it took shape.

  “This is a live feed from the arboretum.” He sipped his drink, taking a moment to revel in the taste and ignoring the impatient faces around him. “Ah, there he is now.”

  The arboretum was a colorful, dense mass of trees and shrubbery with small creatures flitting about in the undergrowth. There, at the corner of the feed, a familiar shape walked a narrow path. He bowed to avoid a low-hanging branch.

  “Groot?” Rocket said. “Gotta say, this one looks a hell of lot like you, buddy.”

  Groot stared at the screen, his jaw dropping open. “I am Groot!”

  “I am pleased to introduce my most recent addition to the arboretum,” the Collector said. “A Flora colossus.”

  7

  WAIT, you have one already?” Quill turned to the Collector. “Why did you—”

  “Where is this arboretum?” Drax demanded. He did not care why when there were more immediate problems to address. “We will go there. Now.”

  “Where did you find him?” Gamora asked.

  The Collector ignored the frenzy, watching the Groot holo from his high-backed chair. The camera followed the Groot, sometimes zooming out to show his surroundings, sometimes zooming in so close that his face stretched the width of the room.

  Drax inspected the projection, trying to find some trick. The Flora colossus looked every inch like Groot: the set of his eyes, the deliberate movements, the slowly growing smile as a cloud of bright bugs whirled around him.

  “I am Groot,” Groot—their Groot, standing right beside Drax—said in shock. He reached for his look-alike, his fingers passing straight through the holo screen.

  The Collector swirled his drink. “My friends, I’m sure you appreciate my diligence in growing my own Flora colossus, rather than taking an existing specimen from its natural habitat on the Branch Worlds’ Planet X.”