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The world of Contraxia was one of the galaxy’s most notorious places for bad behavior, and Yondu Udonta felt right at home there...at least, usually. But right then he was uneasy, because Contraxia was a well-known Ravager hangout, and Yondu was in more than a little trouble with the Ravagers. He had done some work that, to the other Ravagers, looked like kidnapping—which was a serious violation of the Ravager code. They might have been pirates and killers, but they had rules.
It was up to Yondu to explain himself, and he’d been brooding over how to do it since some of his fellow Ravagers had let him know that Stakar Ogord, the top chief of the Ravagers, was visiting Contraxia. Now some of Yondu’s shipmates were calling to him, letting him know that Stakar was in this same part of town. He got himself ready and came down the stairs into the open hall. Flanked by two loyal Ravagers, Wretch and Half-nut, he worked his way through the crowd to see Stakar with one of his top lieutenants, Martinex. “Stakar,” he said, and thumped a fist against his chest twice in the Ravager salute. “It’s been some time.”
“Seems like this establishment is the wrong kind of disreputable,” Stakar sneered after a long, disdainful look at Yondu. He turned and walked away.
“Stakar!” Yondu called after him. He’d known he would be in trouble after word got around about him and Peter Quill, but this was worse than he’d expected.
“There are a hundred factions of Ravagers,” Stakar said to the owner of the bar. “You just lost the business of ninety-nine by serving one.”
“Sir, please,” the owner begged, but Stakar shoved her away.
Yondu’s shock turned to anger. He shattered his glass and strode forward, screaming, “I don’t care what you think of me!”
Stakar spun and stalked back toward him. “So what are you following us for?”
“You’re gonna listen to what I’ve got to say!”
“I don’t gotta listen to nothing! You betrayed the code! Ravagers don’t deal in kids!”
“I told you before: I didn’t know what was going on!”
“You didn’t know because you didn’t want to know. Because it made you rich.”
“I demand a seat at the table!” Yondu showed Stakar the Ravager patch on his coat. “I wear these flames just like you.”
“You may dress like one of us, but you’ll never hear the Horns of Freedom when you die, Yondu. And the colors of Ogord will never flash over your grave.” Stakar grabbed Yondu’s lapels and spoke more quietly. “If you think I take pleasure in exiling you, you’re wrong. You broke all our hearts.”
With that, Stakar walked away. Martinex lingered a moment longer, then followed. Yondu stood alone, shocked by the words of exile.
“Pathetic,” growled one of the other Ravagers who was watching the scene with his compatriots. “First, Quill betrays us and Yondu just lets him go scot-free. We followed him because he was the one who wasn’t afraid to do what needed to be done. It seems he’s gone soft.”
“If he’s so soft,” said Kraglin, another Ravager, “why are you whispering for?”
“You know I’m right, Kraglin.”
A third Ravager by the name of Tullk piped up. “You best be careful when you say that about our captain.” He started to go on, but there was a stir from the crowd nearby and all the Ravagers turned to see what was going on.
It was a small party of gold-skinned Sovereign nobles, with their high priestess Ayesha in the center, stepping carefully on a blue carpet two attendants rolled out in front of her so she wouldn’t have to touch the ground of an unworthy place like Contraxia. She stopped at the end of the rug, directly in front of Yondu.
“Yondu Udonta,” she said. “I have a proposition for you.”