Gamora and Nebula by Marvel Press Book Group

Author:Marvel Press Book Group
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Disney Book Group
Published: 2021-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

When Nebula woke, she was in a green place.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again. She was supposed to be on Torndune, the dead giant of the galaxy’s outer rim where the ground was so poisoned not a thing could grow, but instead, she was lying on her back on a down of feathered grass. Above her stretched the walls of a cave, the same ruddy rock as the mines, but patches of struggling foliage clung to it at random intervals. Beneath her, the ground was as thick and lush as a forest, and nearby, a small, clear stream trickled. A terrarium, she thought. A crescent of green life in the middle of the barren world.

“Are you awake?” someone asked.

Speaking of green.

Nebula started to roll over toward Gamora’s voice, only to realize her movements were restricted by the humming ropes that had been fastened around her ankles. Another rope was around her wrist, then tied off to a boulder, like she was a kite, something that might float away if the wind got too strong. Her muscles tensed with the urge to try and rip the ropes off. She took a deep breath through her nose—then panicked when she realized she wasn’t wearing a vent. But the air here was somehow breathable. She unclenched her jaw, exhaled, then turned to her sister.

Gamora was sitting cross-legged on the grass opposite her, running her fingers through the slender blades so that they whispered, making it sound like the cave was crowded with beings. Her skin was streaked and grimy, the hollows around her eyes blackened by paint and a faint line across her nose where her vent had been. She had stripped down to her undershirt, which was stained the same rusty red as the planet and calcified with sweat. She had let her hair down, revealing the ends she dyed every few weeks. For the first time in Nebula’s memory, they were almost colorless, gray like a storm cloud. Nebula had always thought of her sister as the lightning, not the rain. And if Gamora was lightning, Nebula was the thunder, just as powerful but a few seconds behind. Always behind.

“Do I have to be awake?” Nebula asked. Her throat was dry—her throat had been dry since she arrived on Torndune—and the words came out like a gagged-up piece of glass.

Gamora picked a strand of grass and twirled it between her fingers.

Nebula glared at her. “You shot me.”

“It was necessary,” Gamora said. Then, before she could help herself, added, “It was just a stun, don’t be a baby.”

“Where’s Luxe?” Nebula asked.

“Keeping watch.” Gamora picked another blade of grass. She still hadn’t looked at Nebula.

“Are you pissed at me?” Nebula asked.

“Of course I’m pissed,” Gamora snapped, and Nebula felt a prick of satisfaction at the rise in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” Nebula replied.

“I have a job,” Gamora said. “You have an inferiority complex.”

“You mean your job to steal the heart of the planet?” Nebula asked.

Gamora stilled, one hand still woven through the grass.

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