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Stakar let his gaze roll over the chaos filled room before bringing it back to the obviously nervous (and just as obviously attempting to hide it) Kraglin Obfonteri.
“So,” he drawled. “Yondu’s crew finally decided to pull a mutiny.”
The young Xandarian bristled at that, along with the dozen or so living men scattered through the room behind him. “Only half th’ crew, thank yew, and not the half that won this fight. I know you think he turned inta scum, Ogord, but Yondu’s been keeping his nose clean - that’s what pissed off the jackasses enough to mutiny,” Kraglin growled.
“Mmhm. So, should I assume Yondu died in the fight and now you’re captain a’this mess?” Even as he said the casual words, Stakar felt a stab of pain in his heart. There’d been a time, years past, when he considered Yondu to be something akin to- maybe not quite a son, but kin nonetheless. Back in those days, the Centaurian was still adjusting to life as a free being, and projecting a bold as brass attitude to cover up how uncertain he constantly felt - except when around Stakar and the other original Captains. They were family, the ones he felt comfortable enough to be himself around. Stakar always felt proud when he saw the kid relaxing in their company.
But then the Ego matter happened, and he’d been forced to block away all emotion regarding Yondu.
“Actually,” Kraglin coughed, unwittingly bringing Stakar back to the present. “Th’ cap’n ain’t here. Mutineers thought they’d best ambush us while he an’ his arrow were gone.”
“Gone where.” Stakar didn’t bother phrasing it as a question.
“...Mejak Three. Been there a few days, with, uh, one o' the new crewmembers. They were due back tomorrow.”
“I see. In that case, we’ll just sit tight until he gets back-”
“Kraglin!”
Both men turned to see an older member of Yondu’s Ravagers approaching, escorted by two of Stakar’s crew with frowns on their faces.
“What’s up, Tulk?”
“Trouble - Taserface an’ a couple others aren’t among the dead. And his usual M-ship is missin’ from the hangar.”
Kraglin cursed. “He’s goin’ after Cap’n and Quill.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. We’ve gotta get goin’ after them, Yondu don’t know what’s comin’ his way!”
“None a’you are goin’ anywhere.” Stakar raised a hand to silence the immediate protests. “You ain’t got a single man who isn’t injured, not to mention the fact that I’m not done with this crew yet. I’ll leave for Mejak Three.”
“You’ll just kill Yondu yerself!”
Slowly, one of the High Captain’s eyebrows went up. “And why,” he slowly asked, “Would I do that, if he’s been - as you claimed - keepin’ his nose clean?”
“Um.”
-Timing-
“Picked up any signals yet, Marty?”
“Just the one so far, Captain,” his first mate answered. “Matches the data Kraglin gave us on this Taserface fellow’s ship.”
“Where is he, then?”
“Close - this quarterside of the planet. Looks like he’s skimming the surface.”
Stakar’s eyes narrowed. “Searching for Yondu.”
“Seems so.” Martinex half-turned in his seat in order to look straight at his captain, the two of them alone in the cockpit. “Exactly what are we planning when we find him, sir?”
“I ain’t decided yet.”
“Mm.”
They flew on in silence for a while after that.
-Timing-
“Well,” Martinex said. “I think I know why we couldn’t pick up a signal from Yondu’s M-ship.”
He kept their own craft hovering just above a smoking heap of mangled metal - the remains of the Warbird, a ship Yondu had been flying since he was still a member of Stakar’s crew. Obviously, Taserface had found it when he got to Mejak Three, and decided to preemptively cut off the Centaurian’s escape by blasting it to smithereens.
“Marty?”
“Yessir?”
“We still have the bastard’s coordinates?”
“That we do. He’s set down over behind the next ridge.”
“Good. Let’s go see if he likes having his own M-ship torched.”
“You got it, Captain.” Hard as it was to see Martinex’s facial expressions sometimes, there was no mistaking the glee in his voice. Stakar allowed himself a grim smile. He and Aleta had taken turns teaching Yondu to be a pilot in that ship. For those memories, and them alone, he was willing to enact a bit of vengeance on the Centaurian’s behalf.
Once they’d gotten to Taserface’s black and red M-ship, and subsequently blown it sky-high, Stakar and three of his men disembarked. They hadn’t taken so much as a single step into the forest when a wide-eyed Xandarian emerged at a dead sprint, clearly coming to investigate the explosion. He didn’t have time to do more than gape at the other Ravagers before Stakar fired a shot straight through his skull.
“Guess we’re goin’ this way then.”
After giving Martinex the signal to take their own ride back into the air, Stakar set off through the trees.
They had to wander for a bit, but eventually, the sound of blasterfire led them straight to a series of narrow ravines. There was a single guard waiting by the exit, weapon at the ready, who didn’t realize Stakar and his men were there until it was too late. Further ahead and out of sight, an enraged voice was bellowing threats:
“C’mon out, Quill, so I can rip ya ‘part! Ain’t no more Yondu ta keep me from doin’ it, boy! Yer finally gonna see just how worthless you are, ya little piece a shit!”
“Gonna take a wild guess an’ say that’s Taserface,” one of the men behind Stakar said.
“An’ don’t he sound happy!” Another joked, hefting up his rifle a bit higher.
The sound of a single shot reached them, followed by a roar of pain and an increase in shouted obscenities.
“I dunno who this ‘Quill’ is, but I like him already. Giffer, Lekz, I want each a’you on either side a’those cliffs,” Stakar ordered, gesturing to the sides of the ravine. “Attrik, keep a step behind me.” His men all rumbled their affirmatives, and moved to where their captain needed them. Once they were ready, Stakar led the way into the descending cut in the ground.
Fallen rocks and trees made the terrain more difficult to navigate, keeping their pace at a crawl. From the way the fool Taserface kept yelling, Stakar guessed that Quill must’ve been using that to his advantage, keeping out of the mutineer’s sight by ducking around between spots of cover before taking the occasional potshot. Sure enough, when he and Attrik finally reached a high point where they could actually see the ugly bastard, he was blindly firing at the mess of jumbled stones and shattered trunks around him. Like his two followers, Taserface went down before he knew what hit him.
“Nice shot,” Stakar commented absently, getting a grin from his crewman as Attrik powered down his rifle. Then, the High Captain raised his voice. “Oi! Anybody by the name a’Quill out here?”
“Who wants to know?”
Taken aback by the unexpectedly high-pitched voice, it took a moment for Stakar to reply. “I’m Captain Ogord of the Starhawk, head of the One Hundred Ravager Clans.”
“Never heard of you.”
Attrik snorted. Stakar shot him a dirty look.
“You know Kraglin though, dontcha? He’s the one who told us you ‘n Yondu were down here.”
“...Did he give you the code phrase?”
Stakar took a deep breath and slowly let it out again. “What code phrase? I don’t have time to waste, Quill. With the Warbird and that Taserface’s M-Ship destroyed, we’re your only way off this rock and back to what’s left of Yondu’s crew. Now, are you gonna show yourself or not?”
After a few beats of silence, they heard a scrabbling noise, followed by a flash of red. A moment later, an honest to goodness pipsqueak of a kid popped out of the mess further down the ravine. He scowled at Taserface’s cooling corpse, then transferred a more wary version of the same look to Stakar. “You’re really other Ravagers?”
Seeing that Stakar was too stunned to respond, Attrik did it for him. “Yeah, kid, we are. How old are you?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed. “...Almost fifteen.”
That blatant lie was enough to stir Stakar back to proper functionality. “Now that’s a load a’crap if ever I heard one.”
Bristling, the kid’s scowl deepened. “Well how old do you think I am, then? And what’s my age got to do with anything, anyway? You said you didn’t have time to waste.”
Stakar’s patience snapped. “I think you’re barely a day over twelve, that it’s important ‘cause I warned Yondu not to deal in kids anymore, and you’re right, I am in a hurry, so where is that blue piece a’scum hiding while a boy fights his battles for him?”
Instantly, the kid’s right arm swung up, his little blaster aimed straight for Stakar. “You take that back,” he growled, eyes lighting up dangerously.
“What? About Yondu being scum? Don’t tell me he didn’t snatch you away from wherever your home is.”
“So what if he did? I didn’t want to stay there anymore anyway!” The boy’s arm started to shake a bit. “And Yondu’s not hiding! He got hurt tryin’ to keep Taserface from getting to me, so I had to lead the bastard away before he killed him! And screw you if you think I’m gonna tell you where he is just so you can hurt him too!” The shaking was getting worse, and he brought up his other hand to grip the blaster in an effort to keep it still. Out of the corner of his eye, Stakar saw movement on the clifftop, and knew that both his other men were just waiting for his word to take the kid down before he shot someone.
Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.
“Peter!”
Not so thankfully, it was because Yondu himself appeared at the other end of the ravine.
At his hoarse call, the kid twisted in place, trying to keep the blaster pointed at Stakar even as he looked behind him. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something, but only a wordless noise of distress came out.
Stakar understood how he felt. Yondu was a mess.
A wide gash stretched over the stop of his skull, in line with a puncture in his fin spitting out sparks. Dark marks that would soon become full-blown violet bruises covered most of his face, and there were blaster burns peeping through holes in his coat and trousers. The liberal smears of blood didn’t help matters either.
“Don’tchu go pointin’ yer weapon at th’ High Captain, Quill,” Yondu rasped, supporting himself against the ravine wall as he staggered forward another couple steps. “I let yew keep that thing t’ defend yerself, not piss off one a th’ only decent assholes in th’ galaxy.”
“But he- Yondu!” The kid’s protest became a yelp when the Centaurian toppled over. Stakar and Attrik obviously forgotten, he darted down the ravine to Yondu’s side. “No no no, come on you blue doofus, you can’t die! Please!”
Eyebrows going up at the genuine fear in the boy’s voice, Stakar strode after him. Quill didn’t notice until the man stood over him and Yondu.
“You can’t hurt him,” the boy said, practically begging, his little hands gripping Yondu’s leather coat as if that alone would keep him from death. “You can’t. He’s hurt enough.”
Sighing, Stakar leaned down to grab the kid by the back of his own miniature Ravager jacket. Hoisting him into the air triggered a new round of yowling, as the boy demanded to be let go, cried out for Yondu, squirmed and kicked and scratched like a wild animal.
“Captain?”
“Get him up, Attrik,” Stakar said, jerking his head at Yondu’s prone form. “Call Martinex for a pick up. And,” he sighed again. “Tell him to have the medical supplies ready.”
At that, the kid finally slowed his struggles, staring with wide eyes.
“Yessir!”
This was clearly going to be an even bigger mess than anticipated.
-Timing-
When they departed Mejak Three, the kid - Peter Quill, as he finally introduced himself - refused to sit anywhere he couldn’t see Yondu. Stakar let Martinex handle flying them back to the Eclector and Starhawk so he could keep an eye on the boy. At one point, once Giffer declared Yondu’s condition to be stable, Quill pulled some sort of electronic box out of his jacket’s inner pocket, clicking a button on it after settling a connected pair of bright orange sponge-things over his ears. The faint notes of music could just be heard as the kid curled into himself on his seat, gaze never leaving Yondu.
“How long’ve you been in space, boy?” Stakar asked after a while.
“...Few years,” came the mumbled reply.
“Ever heard of a guy by the name a’Ego?”
Quill sent him a baffled look. “No. Who’s that?”
“A jackass who hired Yondu to bring him a bunch a’kids. Kids that he murdered.”
The boy’s eyes went wide.
“You’re sure Yondu never mentioned him around you?” Stakar’s frown deepened as Quill rapidly shook his head. “Hm.”
It took a minute before Quill spoke up. “You think Yondu took me for this Ego guy. Don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re wrong. I’m too good at thievin’.”
Stakar was hard-pressed not to smirk at how matter-of-factly the kid was. “That so?”
“Mm-hm. S’why he never let the others eat me, or steal my Walkman, or get away with hitting me like Taserface does sometimes.” Quill blinked. “Or. Did sometimes, I guess. Why’d he and Vrilt and Fargin try to kill us?”
“There was a mutiny on the Eclector while you and Yondu were gone.”
Quill jerked out of his slouch at that. “What! What happened?!”
“I don’t know all the specifics myself - me ‘n my crew happened across the ship when things were dyin’ down, and Kraglin wasn’t all that forthcomin’ with details.” He scowled. “He definitely did his damnedest to avoid talking ‘bout you.”
“But he’s okay?” Stakar nodded. “What about Tulk? And Oblo, and Gef? And-”
“I don’t know all th’ names, kid, but there were about twenty men still alive at the end a’things, the ones worried ‘bout you ‘n Yondu. Wounded, most a’them, but alive.”
The boy subsided a bit, but still looked worried.
“What were you two doin’ down on that mudball, anyway?”
Quill fiddled with his music box before answering. “He was teachin’ me to shoot. Said it was ‘bout time I had more than just my pocket-knife to defend myself with.”
“I see.”
“...He’s gonna be alright, isn’t he?”
Resisting the urge to scowl, Stakar went with a simple nod. It seemed to do the trick, and the kid settled back into his seat, silent for the rest of the flight.
-Timing-
Kraglin was waiting for them in the Starhawk’s main hangar, a bandage plastered to his cheek and left arm in a sling. When Stakar stepped down from his M-ship, one hand on Quill’s shoulder, the man winced. When Giffer and Attrik appeared, carrying Yondu between them, he turned pale.
“Cap’n...?”
“He’s not dead!” Quill was quick to say, darting forward in order to latch onto the lanky Xandarian. “He’s not! I know he looks bad, Kraglin, and I’m sorry, but he’s not dead, he yelled at me and everything so he has to be better than he looks-”
Kraglin obviously didn’t take in a word the kid said, just dropping a hand onto Quill’s head while his wide-eyed gaze followed Yondu all the way out of the hangar. Only once his captain vanished from sight, on his way to the Starhawk’s infirmary, did the young man shake himself out of it.
“‘C-course he’s gonna be okay. What about you, brat?” He asked, finally looking down at Quill, who appeared close to tears again. “You okay?”
“M’fine. What about the others? Stak-whatever said there was a mutiny - who’s dead?”
“‘Bout thirty men,” Kraglin sighed. “Most of ‘em the assholes who didn’t like keepin’ ya ‘round, but also a couple’ve the crew who stuck up for th’ cap’n. Me ‘n Tulk have been lookin’ after who’s left, waitin’ fer Captain Ogord to come back with you ‘n Yondu.”
“Oh.”
“What happ’ned t’ Taserface ‘n the others?”
“Dead,” Stakar said, finally deciding to step forward into their conversation. “Quill did a decent job evadin’ and pissin’ them off before we got there.”
Kraglin managed a grin at that. “‘Course he did. Got a real talent fer runnin’ both his legs and his mouth, our Pete.” The boy punched him in the gut, but not all that hard if his proud smirk was anything to go by.
Stakar smirked as well, but when Martinex and Lekz stepped up to their usual spots on his left and right, the man returned to his serious face. “It’s come t’ my attention, Obfonteri, that you lied t’ me.”
Kraglin, impressively, managed to avoid flinching, and instead stood his ground, carefully nudging Quill to stand partially behind him.
“You said Yondu was off with one a’the ‘new’ crewmembers - but th’ boy here says he’s been aboard th’ Eclector for a few years now.”
“...He’s new c’mpared t’ others in th’ crew,” Kraglin said with a slight scowl.
“Uh-huh. You picked him up t’ take t’ that Ego bastard, didn’t ya?”
“Maybe.” After a few moments of Stakar glaring flatly at him, the younger man relented. “A’ight, we was hired t’ git him by Ego, but that was just after th’ exile, when we found out he was killin’ all his kids. And Yondu decided we weren’t gonna just leave Pete where anyone else Ego hired could find him.”
The boy was staring up at him with a shocked expression, but Kraglin didn’t notice, and Stakar didn’t comment. “Have you dealt in kids since then?”
“No! An’ we didn’t deal in ‘em before! Ego always said he just wanted t’ be reunited with his kids, an’ the gene-print he sent us matched up with every littl’un he told us ‘bout-”
“What?” Quill’s strangled question caused Kraglin to wince, and send an apologetic look down at him. “His kids? Kraglin, are you- are you talking about my dad?”
“That bastard don’t deserve t’ be anyone’s dad, Pete, least of all yours-”
“No,” Quill protested, slowly backing up even as Kraglin reached for him. “No, I don’t believe you! He can’t- Mom wouldn’t- no!”
“Peter, please-”
“NO!” Before Stakar or any of his men could react, the boy turned and flew from the hangar, racing off through the same door Yondu had been taken through.
“Shit,” Kraglin cursed, shooting them a panicked look over his shoulder. “I gotta-”
“Go,” Stakar agreed. “We’ll finish talkin’ later.” The Xandarian nodded his thanks, then hurried after the kid.
“Think Kraglin can catch him?” Martinex asked.
“I dunno. He’s been a’board before, but Quill seems t’ be pretty light on his feet.” Huffing out a breath, Stakar nodded to a different door. “C’mon, let’s go see what’s happened while we were gone, an’ let the crew know not t’ bother the boy.”
-Timing-
When Kraglin eventually rejoined Stakar and the others in the Starhawk’s bridge, his dejected posture spoke volumes about his attempt to catch and talk to the kid. At the High Captain’s questioning glance, the Xandarian grimaced.
“Pete skedaddled inta yer vents,” he muttered. “Even I ain’t skinny ‘nuff t’ drag him outta there.”
Lips oh so briefly twitching into a grin, Stakar nodded, refocusing on the nav display in front of him. “We were headed for Ahlruun before this mess - I’d offer t’ drop you mangy lot off there, but I somehow doubt you’ll be ready t’ get back on your feet that fast.”
Kraglin immediately opened his mouth, probably to argue, but closed it again with a sigh. He took a moment to scrub a hand across his face before trying again. “No, I don’t think we will either, but Yondu’ll skewer me with his arrow if he finds out I didn’t at least try t’ git Peter away from here quick as I can.” At Stakar’s raised eyebrow, he hastily elaborated. “Y’already made me break the Cap’n’s number one rule ‘bout the kid, no one talks ‘bout Ego in front’a him. No tellin’ what else might happen, we stick around here.”
“Hmm.”
They turned the conversation towards other matters, such as the Eclector’s repairs and the updated casualty list, but the thought kept itching in the back of Stakar’s mind. What were they gonna do about the kid?
A couple of hours later, Kraglin started to sway where he stood. Stakar jerked his chin, and Martinex smoothly maneuvered the younger first mate out and off towards the spare bunkrooms where he could sack out for a while. Sooner or later, they’d need to actually return the Xandarian to his own ship - but Stakar would in all honesty prefer to wait until he’d figured out a course of action regarding Yondu and Quill.
...speaking of whom.
His feet took him down to the infirmary of their own accord. The medic on duty didn’t hesitate to wave permission for Stakar to enter, and he headed towards a screened-off bunk at the far end of the room.
Yondu still looked a mess, but at least a cleaner one, with bandages covering all his holes and burns. Stakar stood at the foot of the bed and just- watched him, for a while. Watched the rise and fall of his chest, more than anything else. And that was the only reason he didn’t notice the small figure curled up on a nearby chair right away.
To be fair, Quill had Yondu’s long coat wrapped around himself, only a small gap left at the top for him to look out through. He’d also fallen sound asleep, head tipped at an awkward angle against the backrest. Stakar felt his own neck twinge just looking at the kid.
Keeping his movements slow and steady, he stepped closer and scooped Quill up, gently enough the boy didn’t stir beyond a low, sleepy mumble. Without really thinking about it, Stakar turned and carefully laid the leather-wrapped bundle on the edge of Yondu’s bed, mindful of the handful of medical tubes. Then, he dropped back into the vacated chair himself, and sighed for possibly the hundredth time that day.
One blue arm twitched.
As Stakar stared, Yondu’s eyelids flickered, then peeled open. His gaze remained distant, pain relievers clearly doing their job, but the Centaurian didn’t need to look as he brought his hand up to set atop Quill’s curly hair. The kid let out another mumble, burrowing further into the folds of the long coat, and a soft huff escaped Yondu’s lips. His eyes slipped closed again. His hand didn’t move away.
Stakar sat, and watched the both of them.