Running through a final pre-flight check, Peter made sure that the armory racks were squared away, that the weapons systems were locked to his console and then looked around the cabin. He tried to figure out if there was anything else he should secure before letting a group of Terrans, especially one that included a couple of teenage boys, onboard.
He wondered if there was anything that he was missing that Stakar would have noticed, then shrugged inwardly. Yondu had taught him to fly when he was ten. Sure he’d destroyed a small moon….. Kraglin had called it a glorified asteroid, on the edge of of the Andromeda galaxy when he was learning how to execute an evasion maneuver consisting of a barrel roll, followed by a three point turn that culminated in a full stop that Yondu had called the Drunken Kree. There was also the time that he’d been trying to clear out the plasma injectors and instead hit the biohazard recycling tank evacuation lever without first disengaging the external cover plate. The pressure had blown a main line and coated the entire cargo bay with hundreds of gallons of a greasy grey liquid that smelled like a combination of a truck stop bathroom and the kind of perfume his grandmother had once worn. Bet that’s when Taserface started hating my guts,
Peter thought remembering that while his Daddy had yelled at him, called him a wretched little waste of oxygen…..Yondu had delegated the actual clean up to Taserface.
Peter appreciated the fact that the Benetar had a spot on the roof of Avengers tower, taking a bunch of people up in space sounded fun. Driving them all the way to upstate New York sounded like hell.
He opened the main hatch, extended the ramp and wondered if they had barf bags on board….. he vaguely remembered something about airplanes having them and wondered if other Terrans ever got spacesick. “Eh, it’ll be fine.” He made his way down the ramp, trying to decide what kind of music you played for someone’s first trip to space.