Chapter Text
It wasn’t until Kraglin was only a few clicks shy of the Xandarian atmosphere that he realized he was maybe a little afraid to go back. He’d packed quickly and told no one— not Tullk, not Iznen — that he was leaving home to return to his origins.
...When had he started thinking of the Eclector as home?
The silence in his M-ship was deafening, and he found himself longing for the chatter in the corridors he had grown used to. The noise on Xandar would be familiar, but not the same. He’d… get used to it. Eventually.
Still, there was something undeniably thrilling about bursting through the jump point, the atmosphere shattering into hundreds of pentagonal fragments, and soaring across the sky high above the city. Kraglin’s M-ship, new as it was, couldn’t compare in class and style to the star-pointed ships of the Nova Corps. Those ships circled the sky not, and for a moment Kraglin felt like he’d never felt. The city was beautiful to a visitor. It reminded him of the wonder he’d felt as a child, looking at the skyline from the slums. But even then, he’d never been able to see it like this. It was a view to fall in love with. The sun, just beginning to reflect off the buildings in a warm morning glow... Kraglin hadn’t realized it would be sunrise when he arrived, and for a moment he lost himself in the beauty.
His ship landed and he took a moment to make himself presentable. He was still wearing Ravager leathers, minus the flame. He smoothed them down, re-laced his boots, and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t look fit to be a Nova Corps officer anymore. But surely they’d expected that. He stepped out of the ship and onto the clean stone road.
“Kraglin Obfonteri.” He turned, seeing Denarian Gaard striding toward him, with Nova Prime behind him.
“Gaard,” Kraglin replied, beating his chest in a Ravager salute, Gaard’s outstretched hand coming a moment too late for him to realize his mistake. He quickly dropped his hand to his side, greeting the Xandarian leader with a nod instead. “Nova Prime.”
“Welcome home,” she said, and Kraglin resisted the urge to say this ain’t my home. “You have been away for quite some time.”
Kraglin bit back a scowl. “I’ve been busy.”
“So I’ve heard.” Nova Prime’s voice was mil, but Kraglin could hear the underlying scorn. “Denarian Gaard told me you wouldn’t be joining us.”
“Changed my mind,” he mumbled, scuffing his boot on the ground. “Thought it was worth a trip down here. No promises. Just to talk.”
The other two exchanged a look, and Kraglin could tell they were wary. Good. Let them be. But to their credit they didn’t question him further. Nova Prime nodded and turned, leaving no choice but for Kraglin and Gaard to follow. Kraglin trailed behind, taking in his surroundings. It hadn’t changed all that much. They walked up the marble steps of Nova Tower, the headquarters of the Corps. Xandar was so clean and perfect— perhaps too much— and so different from a Ravager ship. Kraglin’s dirty clothes and jagged haircut just felt out of place. Clearly his companions thought so too, because there was a set of clean clothes sitting on the table inside the office he was led to. A basic Corps uniform given to rookies for their first day on the job.
“I thought ya was giving me a promotion,” he quipped. Gaard gave him a scathing look, cringing at the language.
“You have to accept the deal first.” The officer crossed his arms.
Kraglin grinned, and was pleased to see Gaard cringe at the sight of his yellow teeth. He flipped him a middle finger and Gaard’s face contorted in disgust before he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Now alone, Kraglin looked around the office. He was reminded of the day he’d been sentenced, except this wasn’t a tiny waiting room for criminals. This was the luxurious penthouse office of Nova Prime, and he was alone in it. He had the urge to touch all the fragile decorative pieces, and shove the valuable ones in his pockets. But he didn’t. Instead, he discarded his jumpsuit and dressed in the uniform. It was clean and crisp and smelled like fresh laundry. A temptation? The collar was neatly pressed and folded down, exposing the tattoos on Kraglin’s neck. He could only imagine what the others would have to say about those.
There was a knock on the door and Kraglin jumped, expecting Gaard returning. But instead, only Nova Prime stood there. “May I come in?” she asked.
Kraglin shrugged. “It’s yer office.” The Corps general laughed lightly and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She strode to her desk and sat down.
“You may sit, Mr. Obfonteri.” Kraglin didn’t even try to argue. He sank into the chair, comfortable and clean, and wondered if he could ever get used to this again. “You’ve returned, despite telling us you would not. Why?”
“Seemed smart to consider my options,” he lied easily. No need to tell her the real story. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, unable to read her expression.
“You don’t need to be so anxious,” she said after a moment. “You are here as a guest, there will be no action taken against you while our offer is on the table, despite your criminal record.”
Kraglin raised his eyebrows. “And if I say no?”
There was a pause as Nova Prime just looked at him without answering, and he wasn’t sure if she was thinking about the answer or just trying to intimidate him. Probably both. Finally, she leaned forward folded her hands, staring intently at him while she spoke. “The fact that you’re here now leads me to believe you won’t.”
That sent a shiver up Kraglin’s spine and he found himself unwillingly shrinking back into the seat. “Whaddaya expect in return if I take yer generous offer?”
Nova Prime gave Kraglin a look that made it very clear she knew that he knew the answer to that. Still, she answered him. “There are certain members of the Udonta Ravager Clan who we have escaped our hands numerous times. Their crimes are notable. As I am sure you know, we tend to leave the Ravagers as an entity alone, but these particular persons are on our watchlist and we would like to bring them in.” She tipped her head slightly, looking at Kraglin curiously. It took a moment before he realized she was staring at his tattoos. He tried to pull his collar up, but it was too late. “Xandarian runes,” she said quietly. “The Nova Corps crest.” There was surprise in her voice as she noticed it. “And star roamers. For the Ravagers?”
Kraglin shrugged and nodded, realizing she couldn’t see the third one from where she was sitting. He didn’t know what else to say.
“This may be difficult for you to accept,” Nova Prime said, a slight sigh escaping her. “But it is for the best that these men are brought in. All we need is whatever you can tell us about them. Weaknesses, strengths, and the next place they’ll be, so we can bring them in.”
Kraglin was quiet, leaning back in his chair. For good measure, he pulled one foot up onto the seat with him, the other leg swinging onto the table. He watched Nova Prime for some reaction, but she gave him none. Great . “Who are they?” he asked.
Nova Prime stood, and brought up a holoscreen with mugshots and files. “These three. Andreiz, Razar, and Elan. Can you tell us anything about them?”
Kraglin stared at the faces. No one he was particularly close to. But he knew them. All of them. They were his crewmates, his family by extension. He could almost feel the third tattoo burning on his skin. It means pledging yerself to something, forever. It don’t matter if that ain’t how ya grew up, if the people ain’t yer blood. It’s not tied to yer past, but it’s there for life.
“No.” Kraglin pushed back the chair and got up. “Not until I’ve decided. And I haven’t. Not yet. Thanks fer the clothes and the hospitality. I’ll let ya know when I have an answer. Just know it might not be one ya like.” Nova Prime looked like she wanted to say something but she just huffed and watched him leave the room.
Kraglin ran down the hallway and back out into the street, hurrying through crowds of people and through the familiar city until he had returned to his M-ship. His chest was heaving, breath coming in short gasps, but not from exertion. He collapsed on the small cot in the back, covering his face with his hands, trying to calm down. He didn’t know what to do. Being on the Eclector seemed impossible now, and he was so angry with Yondu. But the alternative? Turning on the crew he had pledged himself to? If he had been with the Ravagers for longer, he could’ve been one of those people on the Corps’ wanted list. He probably was, having blown up an Nova outpost. This was probably the only thing keeping him from being arrested, he realized with horror. He didn’t know what would happen if he said no now. Nova Prime hadn’t given him a real answer. He was stuck here now. There was only one answer they’d accept, and he’d fallen into their trap. I’m so flarking stupid .
He stared up at the ceiling, squinting his eyes at the lights and tried to pull himself together.
What would Yondu do?
Kraglin could’ve laughed. Yondu would talk his way out of it, because he was good at that. And if he couldn’t do that, he’d fight his way out. Either way, he would never let some fascists back him into a corner. He was angry now. The whole thing was so unfair. Almost worthy of a Ravager, he thought humorlessly. But this was much more twisted. Still, the thought of having to go back to his Captain and tell him he wanted to come back… even if Yondu didn’t kill him on the spot, he’d lose his rank, he’d be scrubbing vents for the rest of his days probably. It wasn’t worth it.
Probably.