The Milano’s speakers hummed an old Earth track as Quill leaned against the railing, watching the stars streak past the viewport. Rocket crouched over a console, muttering to himself while fine-tuning the ship’s systems. “Try not to blow anything up before we get there,” Quill said quietly. Rocket didn’t glance up. “No promises.” The ship cruised steadily toward its next stop, quiet except for the music.
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