"How strange. This should be the place."
Star-Lord let go of the ship's controls and frantically tapped at the screen beside him. First, he checked the address Deathstroke had given him, then he reverified the route data from the ship's dozen-plus spatial jumps.
Nothing was wrong. Every step had been correct, except for the period when they had drifted during the power outage, which had left no data records.
They had now arrived at the agreed-upon "Big Stage," ready to put on an inspiring explorer adventure with his teammates. But the crucial problem was that the promised stage was nowhere to be seen.
According to Deathstroke and Adjutant, there should have been a barren planet here, complete with a staged ancient tomb and a whole bunch of synthetic monsters acting as villains. The Guardians of the Galaxy were supposed to start filming here.
Whatever Deathstroke wanted that mockumentary for, the Guardians of the Galaxy were space Marauders. They got paid, so they got the job done.
Yet all they could see was a pitch-black expanse of space. There were no stars in this region, much less a planet they could use for acting. They could not even see a space rock big enough for someone to stand on.
"Could the agreed coordinates be wrong?"
Gamora, sitting at the weapons station, tilted her head. She walked behind Star-Lord and bent over to inspect the data. Even though she noticed him secretly sniffing her hair, she did not react.
Because the coordinates were correct. Their ship's navigation system was functioning normally, and the star charts they used were universally recognized authoritative editions. The coordinate system was shared by the Three Great Empires. There was no problem there.
"I am Groot."
The tree man sat in the last row of the cockpit. He