MARVEL'S GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY

KNOWHERE'S ECHOES

Peter Quill sat back in his pilot’s seat as the Milano shot through the vast expanse of space, stars streaking by like a cosmic blur. Knowhere was still a few jumps away, and though the hum of the ship was comforting, Peter couldn’t shake the weight of the encrypted file he had unwittingly stolen. A million credits was supposed to be his ticket to freedom, but the feeling of unease only grew stronger the longer he stared at the data pad.
The file was there—sitting just out of reach behind layers of encryption far beyond Peter’s ability to crack. He had no idea what it contained, but whatever it was, the Nova Imperium had sent a warship after him for it, which meant it was bad news.
“Of all the things to steal,” Peter muttered to himself, tossing the data pad aside for the moment. His mind drifted to Knowhere, an enormous, hollowed-out head of a long-dead celestial that served as a lawless outpost for smugglers, pirates, and information brokers alike. It wasn’t exactly the safest place in the galaxy, but if there was anywhere to get answers, it was there.
Peter stood up and stretched, wandering back through the ship toward the small lounge area. He flicked on the sound system, scrolling through his Awesome Mix until he landed on “Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang” by Silver, the same song he’d danced to during the heist. The upbeat rhythm filled the Milano, a stark contrast to his current mood, but Peter needed the distraction.
As the music played, Peter let his mind drift. Knowhere had always been good to him—well, as good as a lawless, chaotic station could be. The people there were shady, sure, but they valued secrets, and secrets were currency in the universe. All he had to do was find the right person, pay them off, and he’d be one step closer to figuring out what he’d gotten himself into.
But there was one thing nagging at him.
Whoever wanted this file knew he had it, and they weren’t going to stop coming. The Nova Corps might’ve been the first to make a move, but Peter had a gut feeling that they weren’t the only ones interested. If the file was valuable enough to risk a full-scale chase, he was likely dealing with something much bigger than he’d ever anticipated.
Peter leaned against the ship’s console, his mind racing through the possibilities. He could bail. Dump the file somewhere and let the galaxy fight over it. Take the credits and disappear. But that wasn’t his style, and he knew it. His curiosity was already burning—a need to know what was inside that file, why it was so important. Plus, if there was one thing Peter Quill hated, it was unfinished business.
The Milano’s console beeped, and Peter wandered back to check the nav system. They were approaching the final jump to Knowhere, just a few moments away from hitting that familiar stretch of unclaimed space.
Peter grinned and slid back into the pilot’s seat. “Here we go, Knowhere. Hope you’ve missed me.”
He punched the coordinates, and the Milano shot forward, disappearing into the stars as the space around it bent and twisted.
Knowhere was as sprawling and chaotic as Peter remembered. The massive celestial skull loomed in the distance, its hollow eyes glowing faintly against the darkness of space. The Milano drifted toward the docking port, a series of haphazardly attached platforms, ships, and space stations that formed the heart of the outpost.
As Peter guided the Milano to its designated bay, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of nostalgia. This place had been a refuge for him more times than he could count—a place where people like him could disappear into the crowd and find whatever they needed. Answers, credits, trouble—it was all here.
The Milano touched down with a soft thud, and Peter powered down the engines. The silence that followed was almost eerie compared to the ship’s constant hum. He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, slipped on his headphones, and made his way to the ramp.
The docking bay was as grimy as ever, filled with ships from across the galaxy, each more battered and patched together than the last. Peter descended the ramp and took a deep breath, the air filled with the familiar scent of fuel, sweat, and something distinctly alien that he couldn’t quite place.
“Home sweet home,” Peter muttered under his breath as he headed into the main promenade.
Knowhere’s bustling streets stretched out before him, a labyrinth of vendors, shops, and makeshift cantinas filled with every species imaginable. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting strange shadows across the narrow alleys. Alien merchants barked out offers for exotic wares, and the constant hum of conversation filled the air.
Peter walked with purpose, his eyes scanning the crowd. He knew exactly where he needed to go—The Cosmos Pit, a shady bar tucked away in one of Knowhere’s countless side streets. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was a place where secrets were traded, and more importantly, where Peter had a few contacts who might help him decode the data file.
As he wound his way through the streets, his thoughts wandered back to the job. He still didn’t know who the original client was—the mysterious figure who had hired Yondu for the heist. That was another loose end, and loose ends tended to unravel if left alone for too long.
Peter finally reached The Cosmos Pit, its neon sign barely flickering against the gloom of the alleyway. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, greeted by the dim, hazy interior of the bar. It was exactly as he remembered—low ceilings, a few scattered tables, and an assortment of characters who looked like they’d seen more than their fair share of trouble.
Peter made his way to the back of the room, where a familiar face sat hunched over a drink. Kraglin Obfonteri, one of Yondu’s former men, and a reliable source of information, if the price was right.
“Kraglin,” Peter said as he slid into the seat across from him. “Still drinking the cheap stuff, huh?”
Kraglin looked up, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Quill, you son of a gun. Heard you were on Knowhere. Thought maybe you’d gotten yourself killed.”
Peter laughed. “Not yet. Although I’ve got something that might do the trick if I don’t figure it out soon.”
Kraglin raised an eyebrow. “You talking about that little vault job you pulled?
Peter’s smile faltered for a moment. “You heard about that already?”
“Whole galaxy’s heard,” Kraglin said, leaning in. “Word is, you nabbed more than just credits, Quill. Something big. What’s in the file?”
“That’s what I’m here to figure out,” Peter replied, lowering his voice. “You know anyone on Knowhere who can crack it?”
Kraglin scratched his chin, thinking. “Maybe. But it’s gonna cost you.”
Peter smirked. “When doesn’t it?”
Kraglin grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Alright, I’ll make a few calls. Just don’t get yourself killed before I can collect my finder’s fee.
As Peter watched Kraglin stand and disappear into the bar’s crowd, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get even more complicated. He had a lead now, but there were still too many unknowns, and every second he spent on Knowhere meant more time for his enemies to catch up.
Peter sat back, his fingers drumming against the table as the noise of the bar buzzed around him. He was closer to answers, but with every step forward, the shadows grew longer.
And somewhere out there, someone was already hunting him down.
Peter waited in the dimly lit bar, eyes scanning the eclectic mix of patrons. The Cosmos Pit was the kind of place that felt alive in a way few places did—chaotic, unpredictable, and always on the verge of something going horribly wrong. It suited Knowhere perfectly.
He nursed a drink as the minutes ticked by. Kraglin was good at his job—always knew who to call, but this would take time. Peter had been in these situations before, playing the waiting game, but this time felt different. That encrypted file was gnawing at the back of his mind. It wasn’t just the Nova Imperium he had to worry about. Whoever else was looking for it—those other factions—wouldn’t be far behind.
You always had to pick the wrong target, didn’t you, Quill? He thought bitterly.
As if on cue, his commlink crackled to life. Peter tapped the side of his earpiece and heard Kraglin’s voice come through.
“Got a lead,” Kraglin said. “Name’s Glahrex. Bit of a tech wizard, specializes in encryption and data hacks. Problem is, he’s been lying low after some bad business with a few gangs on Knowhere. You might have to do some convincing.”
Peter leaned forward, intrigued. “Where do I find this Glahrex?”
“Not far. He’s holed up in an old maintenance tunnel off the South Docks. Just be careful—word is he’s not the most trusting type. And if those gangs find out you’re looking for him, you might have more than just encryption to worry about.”
“Perfect,” Peter muttered. “Thanks, Kraglin. I owe you one.”
Kraglin laughed over the comm. “You owe me about a dozen by now, but who’s counting? Good luck, Quill.”
Peter shut off the commlink and stood, tossing a few units on the table for his drink. He made his way out of the bar, stepping back into the chaotic, neon-lit streets of Knowhere. The South Docks weren’t far, but this part of Knowhere was infamous for its underworld dealings. If Glahrex was hiding there, he’d have reason to be paranoid.
Pulling his jacket tighter around him, Peter wound through the bustling crowds, slipping past vendors selling exotic goods and strange foodstuffs. The further south he went, the seedier the streets became—fewer lights, more closed-off sections of the station. The occasional Nova Corps patrol droid buzzed overhead, but no one seemed to care. This was the kind of place where you kept your head down and your business quiet.
When Peter finally reached the South Docks, it was as rundown as Kraglin had warned. The structures here were older, covered in rust and grime, the air heavy with the scent of fuel and decay. He found the maintenance tunnels quickly enough—a narrow alleyway tucked between two warehouses, almost completely hidden from view. It was the kind of place you only found if you knew what you were looking for.
Peter tapped the side of his helmet, engaging its scanners. A quick sweep of the area revealed the telltale heat signature of a single figure hiding deep within the tunnel system. That had to be Glahrex.
“Alright,” Peter said to himself, pulling his Element Guns from their holsters and keeping them ready at his side. “Let’s go make a new friend.”
He slipped into the alley, the darkness swallowing him as he moved deeper into the tunnel. The walls were lined with old piping and exposed wiring, the dim glow of malfunctioning lights barely illuminating the path. Peter kept his steps quiet, listening for any signs of movement ahead.
As he reached a junction deeper inside, he spotted a small figure hunched over a makeshift console—a stocky, reptilian alien with dull green scales and a set of large, glowing eyes. Glahrex was working feverishly at the console, muttering to himself in a language Peter couldn’t quite make out.
Peter holstered one of his guns, stepping forward. “You Glahrex?”
The alien’s head snapped up, eyes wide with fear. In an instant, he was on his feet, pulling a small blaster from beneath his console and pointing it straight at Peter. “Who sent you?” Glahrex hissed, his voice trembling with paranoia.
Peter raised his hands in mock surrender, the other hand still loosely gripping his Element Gun. “Easy, easy. I’m not here to hurt you. Name’s Peter Quill. I need your help with something.”
Glahrex’s eyes darted around, as if expecting an ambush. “Help? You’re lying. You’re with them, aren’t you? The ones who want me dead.”
Peter sighed. “Look, I’m not with anyone. I’m just a guy with a data file I can’t crack, and I hear you’re the best at that sort of thing. I’ll pay you, alright? No tricks.”
Glahrex’s grip on the blaster didn’t ease, but his curiosity was piqued. “Data file? Why would I help you?”
“Because you’re on the run, and I’ve got credits,” Peter said, keeping his tone light but firm. “You help me crack the file, I pay you enough to disappear somewhere far away from Knowhere. Simple as that.”
Glahrex hesitated for a moment, his blaster still trained on Peter. Finally, after a tense silence, the alien lowered his weapon.
“Show me the file.”
Peter reached into his jacket and pulled out the data pad, tossing it lightly to Glahrex. The alien caught it and immediately connected it to his console, his long fingers flying across the controls as he accessed the file’s encryption.
Glahrex muttered to himself as he worked, his glowing eyes flicking back and forth across the screen. Peter watched him closely, ready for anything. He had a feeling this wouldn’t go smoothly.
After what felt like an eternity, Glahrex leaned back in his seat, his expression a mixture of awe and fear. “This… this is dangerous,” he said quietly, shaking his head.
“What is it?” Peter asked, leaning forward.
“It’s not just credits or a contract. This file… it contains something far more valuable. Something hidden deep within the Nova Imperium’s classified networks. I can’t unlock all of it, but from what I’ve decrypted, it’s tied to an ancient weapon—something powerful enough to shift the balance of power in the galaxy.”
Peter felt a chill run down his spine. “A weapon?
Glahrex nodded. “Not just any weapon. It’s called the Celestial Seed.”
Peter blinked. “The what?”
“The Celestial Seed,” Glahrex repeated, his voice low. “A myth, mostly. But this file suggests it’s real. Whoever controls it could reshape entire planets, wield the power of a god.”
Peter’s mind raced. He had stumbled into something far bigger than a simple heist. If the Nova Imperium wanted this, it meant they were playing for keeps. And if word got out that he had the key to this weapon…
He stood up, his fists clenched. “Alright, I’ve heard enough. Can you finish decrypting it?”
Glahrex shook his head quickly. “No. It’s too complex. I’ve only unlocked a small portion of the data. But I can give you a lead. The rest of the encryption… it’s based on old Celestial technology. There’s a place—an ancient ruin on the planet Valtor. That’s where you’ll find the key to unlocking the rest of the file.”
Peter sighed. “Great. So now I have to go on some wild goose chase across the galaxy.”
Glahrex shrugged. “That’s your problem, not mine.”
Peter pulled out a small pouch of credits and tossed it onto Glahrex’s console. “That should be enough to get you out of here.”
The alien eyed the credits greedily before nodding. “Thanks. And Quill—be careful. You’re not the only one after this thing.”
Peter holstered his guns and turned toward the exit. “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”
As he made his way back through the tunnels, the weight of what he’d learned settled heavily on his shoulders. A weapon of unimaginable power, hidden in some ancient ruin, with the galaxy’s most dangerous factions gunning for it.
Peter Quill had officially bitten off more than he could chew.
“Guess I better get to Valtor,” he muttered to himself. “Before someone else does.”
With a grim resolve, he set course back to the Milano. The galaxy had just gotten a whole lot more dangerous.
Peter Quill emerged from the dark, cramped maintenance tunnels back into the neon chaos of Knowhere’s streets, his mind still spinning from what Glahrex had revealed. The Celestial Seed—a weapon capable of reshaping planets, wielding the power of a god. It wasn’t just the money or the usual chase that had landed him in trouble this time. No, this was something far more dangerous.
I need to get off this rock, he thought, moving swiftly through the crowd. His instincts were screaming at him to leave, to make a break for Valtor and figure out the rest of the puzzle before someone else got there first. But the problem with Knowhere was that word traveled fast, and he’d be lucky if the Nova Imperium—or worse—didn’t show up before he reached his ship.
As he approached the docking bay where the Milano was parked, Peter’s commlink crackled to life again. It was Kraglin.
“Quill,” Kraglin’s voice came through, tension clear in his tone. “You might want to hurry up with whatever you’re doing. I’ve been hearing whispers all over the station. Someone’s got a bounty on your head, and I’m talking big credits.
Peter cursed under his breath. “Any idea who?”
“Not yet,” Kraglin replied. “But it’s got a lot of the locals interested. You’ve kicked a nest of raksnakes, buddy.
“I know, I know,” Peter said, picking up his pace. “I’m getting out of here.”
“Good luck, Quill. And try not to die before I get my cut.”
Peter clicked off the commlink and broke into a run. The docking bay loomed ahead, and for a brief moment, he let himself relax as he saw the familiar shape of the Milano in the distance. But just as he neared the entrance, his path was blocked by a group of armed thugs, their weapons drawn and ready.
“Well, well, well,” the leader of the group sneered, a scarred Kree mercenary with cybernetic implants glowing faintly beneath his skin. “Looks like Star-Lord’s made himself a bit too valuable. That bounty on your head’s looking real nice right about now.”
Peter raised his hands slowly, assessing the situation. Six of them, all heavily armed. He could take them if he had to, but it wouldn’t be easy. And drawing attention this close to the ship would only make things worse.
“Come on, guys,” Peter said, flashing his trademark grin. “No need to get violent. We can talk this out, right? Maybe I buy you a drink, you forget about the whole bounty thing?”
The Kree mercenary chuckled darkly, stepping closer. “Not this time, Quill. Hand over whatever you’re carrying, and maybe we don’t blast that pretty face of yours.”
Peter’s grin faltered. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”

In one swift motion, Peter drew his Element Guns, firing off a quick burst of blaster fire that forced the group to scatter. He ducked behind a nearby cargo crate, returning fire as the thugs opened up on him with their own weapons. The sound of energy blasts filled the air, bouncing off the metal walls of the docking bay as Peter moved from cover to cover, taking quick shots whenever he had the chance.
“Get him!” the Kree shouted, motioning for his men to flank Peter’s position.
Peter rolled out of the way just as a barrage of blaster bolts hit the crate he had been hiding behind, reducing it to smoking debris. He returned fire, hitting one of the thugs in the leg and sending him tumbling to the ground.
“Why do they never take the drink offer?” Peter muttered, sliding behind another set of crates.
The situation was getting out of hand. If he didn’t finish this fast, more bounty hunters were bound to show up, drawn by the noise. He had to make a move, and soon.
Glancing around the bay, Peter spotted an overhead platform leading to the control room that managed the bay doors. If he could get up there, he might be able to close the hangar doors and trap these thugs inside—giving him just enough time to slip away.
Without hesitation, Peter activated his jet boots and shot into the air, dodging blaster fire as he rocketed toward the platform. He landed with a roll, sprinting toward the control room as the mercenaries fired up at him from below. They were fast, but Peter had the high ground now.
He burst into the control room and slammed the door shut behind him. The console was an outdated model, but he’d dealt with worse. With a few quick taps, Peter initiated the lockdown sequence, closing the massive hangar doors with a deep, mechanical groan. The mercenaries below realized what was happening and scrambled toward the exits, but it was too late. The doors sealed with a final clang, leaving the group trapped inside.
Peter grinned as he watched them from the safety of the control room. “See? Could’ve just had a drink.”
He sprinted back toward the Milano, now with a clear path to his ship. Once inside, he wasted no time in firing up the engines. The Milano roared to life, and Peter’s hands moved over the controls with practiced ease. The ship lifted off the docking bay floor just as alarms started blaring, no doubt signaling more trouble.
With a few deft maneuvers, Peter guided the Milano through Knowhere’s winding docking lanes, narrowly avoiding a patrol ship that had taken an interest in the disturbance. He punched in the coordinates for Valtor, the planet Glahrex had mentioned, and prepared the ship for a hyperspace jump.

As the stars stretched into streaks of light around him, Peter let out a long breath, finally allowing himself to relax.

But the sense of relief was fleeting. The Celestial Seed. A weapon capable of reshaping worlds, hidden on some ancient planet. He’d stumbled into something much bigger than he’d bargained for. And if the Nova Imperium or whoever else was after the file knew about it, the entire galaxy was in danger.
“Great,” Peter muttered to himself, slumping back in his seat. “Another day, another galaxy-threatening artifact.”
But as the Milano shot through hyperspace, Peter couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Sure, it was dangerous, and sure, he was probably in way over his head. But this was exactly the kind of adventure he lived for. The unknown, the thrill, the challenge—it was why he became Star-Lord in the first place.
“Alright, Valtor,” Peter said with a grin. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
And with that, the Milano hurtled toward its next destination—an ancient planet, a dangerous secret, and whatever else the galaxy had waiting for him.
The Milano broke through Valtor’s dense atmosphere, the planet’s surface a bleak contrast to the vibrant lights of Knowhere. Jagged, dark cliffs rose from a barren landscape, and deep canyons snaked through the terrain. As Peter flew lower, the ancient ruins Glahrex had mentioned became visible—a crumbling temple built into the side of a mountain, partially obscured by swirling mists.
Peter guided the ship down to a flat clearing near the temple entrance. The Milano landed with a soft thud, and after running a few checks, Peter powered down the engines. He glanced out the cockpit window, taking in the desolate surroundings.
“Looks cozy,” he muttered, grabbing his Element Guns and slipping them into their holsters.
The moment he stepped out of the Milano, Peter felt the oppressive weight of the planet’s atmosphere. The air was thick and heavy, and a low, constant rumble vibrated through the ground, like the planet itself was alive and restless.
“Okay,” Peter said to himself, scanning the ruins ahead. “Find the key, unlock the file, avoid getting killed by ancient traps or crazy cults. Easy enough.”
He moved toward the temple entrance, keeping his pace light and his eyes sharp. The place gave off bad vibes, the kind that set off every warning bell in Peter’s head. But he pressed on, his curiosity outweighing his sense of self-preservation.

As he approached the massive stone doorway, a figure emerged from the shadows, standing directly in his path. Peter instinctively reached for his guns, but then stopped when he caught a better look at the person’s face. Familiar—too familiar.
“Wait a minute…” Peter narrowed his eyes. “Is that—?”
The figure stepped forward, and as they came into the light, Peter’s suspicions were confirmed. It was a tall, scruffy-looking man with a mop of unkempt hair, wearing a patchwork Ravager jacket. His face was weathered from years of rough living, but there was no mistaking him.
It was Tull, an ex-Ravager from Peter’s old crew. The guy had vanished years ago, dropped off the radar completely after a falling-out with Yondu. He was supposed to be dead—or so Peter had assumed.
Tull looked at Peter with wide eyes, clearly trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “Who are you?” Tull asked, his voice uncertain, like he was expecting Peter to be someone else.
Peter blinked, taken aback. “What? Uhh… okay, okay, I see what you did there. C’mon, you know me!”
Tull shook his head, giving Peter an exaggerated squint. “Not a chance.”
Peter put his hands on his hips, his patience wearing thin. “What? Nooo… it’s Star-Lord, man. Peter Quill?”
Tull’s eyes lit up in realization, and he slapped his forehead dramatically. “Ohhhh, Quill! Man, I didn’t recognize you without the whole… you know, you thing going on.”
Peter crossed his arms, deadpan. “That was literally the worst attempt at playing dumb I’ve ever seen, Tull. What are you doing here?”
Tull chuckled nervously, glancing around like he was expecting something—or someone—to show up at any moment. “Ah, you know, just… surviving. Same as you. This place? Total dump, by the way. Not exactly what I’d call a vacation spot.”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Surviving? On Valtor? Yeah, I’m not buying that. You always were a terrible liar.”
Tull shifted uncomfortably, looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Okay, okay, maybe I’ve been doing a little… digging. Heard rumors about some old Celestial tech buried in this place. Figured I could, uh, take a peek before anyone else found it.”
Peter stared at him for a long moment, processing what Tull had said. If he’d heard about the Celestial tech, that meant others probably had, too. Which also meant this whole situation was about to get a lot more complicated.

“Right,” Peter said, running a hand through his hair. “Let me guess—you’re not the only one looking for this ‘tech,’ are you?”
Tull’s sheepish grin faded. “Yeah… about that. I may have mentioned something to a few people. And, uh, those people might have told some other people. And now there’s kind of a, you know… treasure hunt going on.”
Peter groaned. “Perfect. So now we’ve got competition.”
Tull raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t think it would blow up like this! I was just trying to make a quick score.”
“Of course you were.” Peter shook his head. “Alright, fine. I was going in there anyway. You coming with me, or are you planning to hang out here and wait for someone to collect that bounty on my head?”
Tull’s eyes widened. “Bounty? Whoa, hold up—there’s a bounty on you?”
“Yeah, there is, and if you stick with me, I might keep you from getting caught in the crossfire.” Peter turned toward the temple entrance and started walking. “Now come on. I’m not letting some two-bit thugs get their hands on whatever’s in there.”
Tull hesitated for a moment, then jogged to catch up, muttering under his breath, “Still don’t get how you ended up with a bounty and I didn’t.”
Peter shot him a sideways glance. “Must be my winning personality.”
They entered the dark, foreboding temple together, the ancient structure towering above them like the remnants of a forgotten civilization. The air inside was thick with dust, and the walls were covered in strange, worn-out carvings that looked like they had been etched eons ago.
Peter flicked on his helmet’s flashlight, casting a beam of light over the intricate patterns on the walls. “So, you ever, uh, break into a Celestial ruin before?”
Tull let out a dry laugh. “Nope. But hey, how hard could it be? It’s just a bunch of old rocks, right?”
Peter shot him a knowing look. “Famous last words, Tull. Famous last words.”