Chapter Text
Milano doesn’t have artificial intelligence installed, but if she did, she would probably be thinking ”of all the crews, in all the galaxies, I get saddled with this one”.
Considering that his crew consisted entirely of convicted criminals (records expunged), made up of a thief, an assassin, two brutes and a maniac, Peter supposes that he should only be surprised that Milano's first mutiny took as long as it did to occur.
"Rocket! Open this hatch so I can rip your arms off and beat you to death with them."
"Yes, Gamora, very encouraging." Peter says from the bottom of the steps. "I'm sure he's just itching to open the hatch now."
Gamora turns to the Terran, her voice low. "The scenario I have just presented is preferable to what will happen if I have to open the hatch."
"Relax. Rocket probably just got wind of a bounty or something."
"We are going to miss our rendezvous."
"So we miss out on one job. It's not like we don't have..."
"A job paying seventy five thousands units." She says. "Each."
"ROCKET!" Peter shouts through the hatch. "Count of three then I'm getting the hadron enforcer. One..."
"It's in here with me, humie."
Peter throws his hands up in the air, and walks away, stumbling slightly as Milano hit the split second where the mass of a planet started to combat with her own artificial gravity. "Are...are we landing? Rocket are you LANDING us?"
He feels the moment that the Milano touches down, and decides that the only thing he did that was stupider than letting Drax go off on his 'Warrior Pilgrimage' to the shrine with the unpronounceable name, was letting Groot go with him.
The hatch opens, and Peter has to physically restrain Gamora. Not because he is concerned for Rocket's safety. No, he just wants to throw the first punch. Seventy five thousands units, AND that was leaving off the little fact that Rocket has commandeered HIS ship.
"Oh, hey Quill. Gamora." Rocket says, as if he is just passing them in the...well, okay, he actually IS just passing them in the galley, dragging the hadron enforcer behind him. "How's it going?"
Peter briefly considers letting go of Gamora.
Rocket quietly opens the access hatch, and jumps down onto the planet.
It is four minutes of utter incredulousness before Peter and Gamora return to their senses.
"I am going to turn him into a hat." Gamora shouts, grabbing her knives and jumping down the same hatch. "Spineless Rodent."
Peter doesn't think that it is politically correct to refer to someone whose spine had been replaced with cybernetics as 'spineless', but right now is probably not the time to point that out.
They find Rocket sitting cross legged on a rock, hadron enforcer by his side, looking out over a boiling geizer. Dangling upside down over the aforementioned geizer is a burly, pink skinned alien with four yellow eyes and a large, maroon circle of a nose. They can’t see any other features at that moment, as they are concealed under the thick coils of rope holding the alien over the geizer.
"89P13." The alien is shouting, a smile over his face. "My greatest achievement. My...my son! I knew it would be you who responded to our distress signal. I always knew it."
"Yeah. I'm here."
"Hey." Peter says, looking from the alien to Rocket. "Whose he?"
"Dr Jumba Jookiba. Bastard that tore me apart and put me together."
"Who gave you form. Purpose. A life of intelligence, strength, abilities that before you could not have even dreamed off."
"Well why didn’t you just say why we are here?” Peter turns to Gamora, “Okay, we'll need to think about this. Got one of your knives on you, Gamora."
"What for?" Rocket mutters.
"Well, we're going to help you rescue him. That's why you're here, isn't it."
"No." Rocket shakes his head and pats the hadron enforcer. "He and I are going to have a nice chat, and then I am going to sit here and watch him die."
"89P13, surely not you, my first creation, would llet me die before your eyes?"
“Yes. Hence my bringing the H-Enforcer.”
"And Jabba the Hut." Peter says, turning back to the alien. "His name is Rocket."
"Rocket." The alien, Jumba Jookiba, laughs with delight. "Excellent. Your sense of self has developed to the point of desiring a name. You remain my greatest accomplishment."
Peter and Gamora can SEE the fur bristling across Rocket's skin. "Yeah. I'm a masterpiece."
"If only 626 could have been as successful." He says with genuine disappointment. "I tried. I tried to recreate your success. To improve on you. But, sentiment overpowered him. As you know."
"626 is here?" Gamora says, stepping forward. "When we first found Rocket, you said that he had responded to 'our' distress signal."
There was a whine from behind them, and Peter, Rocket and Gamora turn just in time to see the Milano take off and fly into the atmosphere.
"Hey! That's my SHIP!"
"Ah 626." Jumba Jookiba said, looking up (well, down in his case) at the sky. "You always were resourceful."
"That was my ship." Peter turns back to Jumba, pointing at the sky. "You're 626 just..."
“He will be irresistibly drawn towards large cities, where he will back up sewers, reverse street signs, and steal everyones left shoe.”
Both Peter and Gamora looked down, to find themselves looking at bare left feet. “How the hell did he....”
"Do you have another vessel that we can use?" Gamora says, standing between Peter and the upside down alien.
"626 and I crashed here three days ago. The ship is in pieces. 626 was made to destroy, not repair."
"Well." Peter says. "Good thing that my pal Rocket here can do both." He pats Rocket on the arm. "Let's go find the ship." A pause. “And my left boot.”
And the trio walk away.
"But you surely can not leave me here." Jumba shouts, struggling against the ropes before deciding that that was probably not a good idea when dangling head down over boiling water. "You can not leave me. 89P13?"
Silence.
"Hello?"
Milano doesn't have any artificial intelligence installed, but if she did, she would probably be thinking something along the lines of "Well, this has escalated quickly."
She would perhaps contemplate the blue fuzzy creature sitting in the pilot seat, muttering in an arcane language as he excitedly tries out each button and knob at his disposal, quickly learning the layout and controls of the ship while also letting out a few lasers and rotating the oxygen tanks.
And Milano would probably think "I am not sure if I am entirely happy with this situation."
And then the creature sets a course for Xandar, and Milano would probably think "Oh well, it will be a story to tell my non existent grandchildren."