The planet Nebula’s ship runs aground on could be worse. She can breathe the air unassisted; the water needs minimal filtration. The skies are colorful. It’s a million light years from Thanos, and Nebula hates it.
Three days in, Gamora lands in Nebula’s clearing. “How did you find me?”
Gamora shrugged. “Rocket,” she says, like that’s an answer. “Let’s fix your ship.”
It takes two days. Nebula’s the mechanic; Gamora’s the one with a spare gravitator in her shuttle.
“You could come back with me,” Gamora says, that final day.
“No, I couldn’t,” Nebula says, and Gamora lets her go.