"By the way, now that the Badoon have returned victorious, a big trade fair will definitely be held on this planet soon. They'll be selling things like slaves captured from destroyed civilizations and other related goods... Are you interested in checking it out?" After explaining that the Centauri that had been wiped out wasn't the one near the solar system, Mar-Vell made the suggestion. (TL/N: Planet name changed to Badoon as we got more context)
"What do you think?" Josh looked at the other two women at the table.
"Forget it, I'm not really interested," Margaret said with a slight frown. After exchanging a glance with Carter, she shook her head.
Carter also said she wasn't very interested.
"Alright then, let's head to Hala tomorrow," Mar-Vell said casually.
So the next morning, after having enough fun on Badoon, they boarded the spaceship again.
Just one day after Mar-Vell's ship left the starport and entered hyperspace, several black-robed figures appeared on the streets of the Badoon planet. Riding a common hover vehicle found on the planet, they slowly made their way to the slave market.
As the busiest planet in the star system, Badoon was home to all kinds of people. The security here was strict on the outside but loose on the inside, and normally, no one dared cause trouble in the Kree Empire's core territories—especially not on the home turf of the war-loving Badoon.
With their powerful bodies and heavy weapons, troublemakers would either be shot on the spot or, if unlucky, torn apart by hand.
So the guards didn't pay much attention to the newcomers.
Even though they were covered in black robes, their small, slim figures made them look more like noble ladies hiding their identities to explore the market than criminals.
Once their electronic IDs were checked and confirmed as "legal personnel," the guards ignored them completely.
Inside the market, it was clear that these black-robed people had done their homework. They went straight to a specific shop.
The shop was large, with rows of clear display cases all around.
But these cases didn't hold normal goods—they contained living, intelligent humanoid beings.
After walking around the display cases, the group didn't seem to find what they were looking for.
One of the shop workers noticed their interest and quickly came over.
"Are our honored guests not satisfied with the slaves on display? Don't worry, Dalton Trading has the best supply network on Badoon. We can take custom orders. As long as you can pay, we can get you any race available on the market!" the staff member said proudly.
"Didn't you just get a new batch of Centaur slaves yesterday? Why aren't they here?" the leading black-robed person asked directly.
"Ah, so you came for the Centaur slaves. I'm really sorry. Originally, they were supposed to be displayed for sale today. But because the war with the Nova side is getting intense, General Ronan, the main commander in the fight, took the entire batch to use as battle slaves," the worker said regretfully.
Although Ronan wasn't yet a member of the Supreme Accusers, he was already a high-ranking general in the Kree Empire, holding a much higher position than Mar-Vell.
If he wanted something, the Badoon—being a subordinate race—would never dare delay.
"…Ronan?" The black-robed figure was a little surprised to hear the name.
"Yes, Lord Ronan. The slaves will probably be sent to Planet Targ this afternoon," the staff member confirmed.
Targ was located on the edge of the Andromeda galaxy. It was a frontline outpost of the Kree Empire in their war against the Nova Empire.
"This afternoon? So, the slaves are still here?" the black-robed person asked.
"Yes, they're still here. But not in the market. They're being kept in a temporary warehouse at the starport." The shipment arrived two days ago and was unloaded there. Before we could even start selling, Lord Ronan claimed them," the staff member shrugged.
"Thanks!" The black-robed figure tossed a coin to the worker as a tip and quickly left with their team.
"Heh, thanks a lot!" The worker had thought the deal had fallen through, but now he was happily surprised. He had just earned a tip—1,000 star coins in cash. That brought a big smile to his face.
"Number One, what do we do now? Should we just storm the starport?" one of the black-robed figures asked their leader on the way.
"Attack the starport on their turf? Are you crazy? Can you survive a hit from the port's defense cannons?" The leader, also known as Number One, replied coldly.
They weren't ordinary people. They could handle light weapons and even small ships, but going up against a well-guarded starport with heavy cannons designed to take down large warships was a whole different story.
If they started a fight, they wouldn't necessarily lose, but the price would be very high.
And it wasn't worth that much risk for a group of Centaurians they had never even met.
"So what do we do?" the subordinate asked with a sigh.
"What's the rush? We report everything back to the master and wait for their orders," Number One said calmly.
A few hours later, two massive armed cargo ships—each over 1,000 meters long—left the starport, escorted by six smaller Kree Empire escort ships about 200 meters each.
The cargo ships were carrying war slaves for the Kree military.
Onboard were 100,000 Centaurians, who had been recently captured by the Badoon, along with tens of thousands of other slaves from different civilizations. The total number of slaves was close to 200,000.
(A/N: During World War II, a 200-meter cruise ship converted into a transport could carry 7,000 to 8,000 troops. A starship over 1,000 meters long is far beyond anything Earth has ever built. In Star Wars, a similarly sized Star Destroyer could carry around 50,000 crew members, as well as many small ships and land vehicles. Therefore, carrying 100,000 slaves on a cargo ship isn't too much.)
Because the cargo ships themselves had decent firepower, were guarded by six elite escort ships, and were traveling along a safe Kree Empire transport route, the fleet wasn't on high alert.
Unfortunately, that lack of caution led to disaster.
The distance from Badoon to Planet Targ was fifteen jump points. At Kree fleet speed, the journey would take about ten days.
However, just as the fleet passed through the eleventh jump point and officially entered the Andromeda Galaxy, it was suddenly ambushed.
"Damn it, Ravagers?! How dare they?"
The Kree fleet commander was furious when the alarms woke him, only to discover that the attackers were the infamous space pirates known as the Ravagers.
But along with his anger came a deep sense of disbelief.
In his memory, these Ravagers usually only raided weak civilizations that had just entered the space age, or unguarded merchant ships.
But a Kree Empire military transport fleet?
Had these lunatics lost their minds?
Still, the undeniable facts were right in front of him.
Shocked and enraged, he quickly ordered his forces to prepare for defense. He also attempted to open communications with the enemy and send out a distress signal, hoping to resolve the situation peacefully.
It wasn't because he was afraid, nor because the Ravagers were particularly strong.
Most of their ships were barely the size of Kree standard fighters.
But this time was different.
There were a lot of them.
According to the ship's scanners, there were over a thousand enemy vessels.
Even worse, several of them were over a hundred meters long—not just gunboats, but small warships.
"Damn it... is this the entire Ravager force in the Andromeda Galaxy?! Did we just stumble into their home base?"
And because the Kree fleet had just emerged from a hyperspace jump, they were caught off guard.
Two of the six escort ships were critically damaged right at the start, and one of the cargo ships lost propulsion.
That left them with only one real option: dig in and stall for time.
Soon after, the Ravagers sent their reply—a demand.
"Surrender all cargo.
Kree personnel are allowed to leave in the remaining ships.
You have one hour to decide."
"Cargo? It's all slaves! What the hell do these Ravagers want with slaves?" the commander muttered, feeling confused and irritated.
"Sir… could it be that someone important to them is among the war slaves?" the vice commander offered.
"…That's highly likely. And they're clever. They didn't say a word about it," the commander said, rubbing his temples in frustration.
He understood the logic.
If the Ravagers had told him exactly who they were trying to rescue, he might've used that as leverage to negotiate for more time.
But clearly, their leader was smart.
By simply saying "cargo," they kept their true goal hidden.
He couldn't just kill all the slaves. Even if the Ravagers didn't retaliate, Ronan would skin him alive afterward.
"Any luck with the distress call? Are any of our fleets nearby?" the commander asked, praying for backup from a nearby Kree patrol fleet.
Otherwise, there was no way help would arrive within an hour—or even a day.
"Sir, our comms… have been jammed. The signal isn't getting out," the communications officer suddenly reported.
"What?! We're being jammed?" The commander's face turned pale.
Since when did the Ravagers have tech powerful enough to jam communications across a whole star system?
That kind of capability was exclusive to the galaxy's most advanced civilizations—high-end military technology that only major powers possessed.
And now… space pirates had it?
Could it be that these Ravagers were acting under the orders of another civilization?
That possibility couldn't be ruled out—and it would certainly explain why these space pirates had the audacity to attack a Kree Empire fleet, even if it was just a relatively weak transport group.
What the Kree fleet commander didn't know, however, was that at the same time, the Ravager leader, Lyan Ogde, was just as confused.
Their fleet had also discovered that communications across this entire star sector had been cut off.
But Lyan was sure of one thing—this wasn't the work of the Kree.
No one under siege would willingly cut off their own chance to call for help.
Which meant one thing.
There was a third party in this system.
"Alert all ships. Heighten defenses. There's someone else here," Lyan ordered immediately, his expression grim.
Following his command, part of the Ravager fleet quickly regrouped and assumed defensive formations.
The Kree fleet soon noticed the odd movements among the Ravagers and realized something crucial: these pirates were probably not responsible for the communications jamming either.
But that only made things worse.
After all, a powerful enemy is frightening...but an unknown one is terrifying.
Who could this hidden third force be?
The Nova Corps? Unlikely—this wasn't their usual zone of operations.
The Shi'ar Empire? Even less likely.
The Inhumans? Thanos? Or perhaps the newly risen Blood Lord?
Suspicions swirled in the Kree commander's mind, each possibility darker than the last.
And just as he was drowning in these thoughts—
A blinding beam of light sliced through the void of space.
In the next instant, a Kree escort ship disintegrated into dust, along with over a dozen nearby Ravager vessels on the same path.
The sheer destructive power of that single strike shocked everyone—Kree and Ravagers alike.
Before they could recover from the shock, a fleet slowly emerged from deep space—their silhouettes now visible.
Only thirty ships.
Far fewer than the Ravagers.
However, every single ship was massive, no smaller than 500 meters. Based on the earlier attack, it was clear that they had at least one first-rate warship among them.
In spacefaring civilizations—just like the age-of-sail navies on Earth—starships were classified by power and size. (TL/N: The "Age of Sail" refers to a period in history (roughly 16th to mid-19th centuries) dominated by sailing ships, particularly in naval warfare and global trade. Navies during this era were fundamentally reliant on wind-powered vessels and developed specific strategies and tactics for naval battles.)
And a first-rate warship was the heart of any top-tier fleet.
Neither the Ravagers nor this modest Kree transport fleet had anything that could compete.
They were completely outclassed.
And now… they were at the mercy of an unknown, overwhelming force.
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