Whatever that madman had planned, Loki desired no part in it. He’d pieced together some, from what he’d overheard whilst all thought the actions of an illusion to be his own. It had been a trick in itself to maintain, for he was still weak and only just regaining his powers, or rather his control, but he’d heard enough to know that anyone planning such a massacre could not be trusted to keep his end of any pact. And that weapon he would have him wield ‘once he was known to be true to the cause’, Loki had felt it in his mind, rearranging his thoughts already scattered by a blow to the head only now healing. No, better to take his leave. What a thing it would be, after having been cast aside by his family, thrown out into the void to die, to return with such a warning. Thor would not be able to claim that glory.
With an illusion over him to hide him from the view of any who would question his movements, Loki slipped through the ship’s halls towards where, upon being brought here, he’d made note of his means of escape. Staying to the shadows even as the illusion hid him from view, he turned into what he assumed to be a docking bay of sorts, prying off the control panel to expose the tangle of wires behind and breathing a sigh of relief when no alarm was sounded. Machines were easier to lie to than people. The door opened with a gasp of air and, after glancing over his shoulder, he hurried inside. And skidded to a halt as he found a weapon aimed at his face.
The satchel of food and other such supplies he’d pilfered away slipped to the metal floor with a reverberating twang. A brief flicker of shock and fear was soon wiped from his face. He forged a smile. “Excellent. I thought that if I am to command this fleet, I will need to know the capabilities of each vessel. Have you a moment to show me, Lady... It is Gamora, isn’t it? Lady Gamora.”
