[b]Bowels of the Nava-Hoe

Some Time Later

Still Pre-Slam[/b]

"I was not informed that the crew of the [i]Ortygia[/i] was still among the living." The Guild Tech stated flatly, staring once more at his communication screen.

"Oh really?" Came the slightly nasally response, "Must've slipped my mind. You know how these things go, I'm sure." Muruta Azrael shrugged in a 'What can you do?' gesture.

Aaron simply nodded, his face expressionless "Of course. The retrieval continued unhindered. The ship and it's prototype mobile suit are more or less intact and en route out of ZAFT space."

Across the depths of space, Chairman Azrael whistled in appreciation, "Took 'em out all by yourself, huh? How'd you convince the space monsters?"

This time it was the engineers turn to shrug, "I told them they were pirates, and that I intended to collect the bounty on them since my original contract was a bust."

The greaseball opposite of him nodded in understanding, "Of course, of course. No one would want to deny a simple Guild Tech his hard earned windfalls after a stroke of bad luck, I'm sure."

"Indeed." Gentles continued without emotion. "What do you want done with the surviving crew?" The man asked, his eyes hardening at the thought of potentially being forced to kill in cold blood. It had been one thing to slaughter them in the heat of battle, and there had been precious few other options to disable the craft without causing catastrophic damage to it.

Besides, they had attacked him before he had even gotten the chance to hail them. It was only fair that they suffer the...indignities of such an approach backfiring on them.

But cold blooded murder? That was a line the reserved Guild Tech was unwilling to cross.

"Bring them in." Was Azrael's response, all business. "I'm a bit impressed that you did this while keeping down the casualties, Gentles. I guess that you've got a bit of a hippie streak in you after all, hm?"

"I'm a member of the Junk Guild first and all else second, Mr. Azrael," the curled hair replied dryly, "Preserving lives whenever possible is the rule, not the exception. They simply had the misfortune of engaging me before even attempting communication. Such a hotheaded and naive approach would have eventually backfired."

Azrael merely shrugged, his face taking on an expression of smug skepticism, causing Gentles to increase his desire to kill the man by another eleven percent. "If you say so. Send over the list of survivors, although, I have to ask. The pilot of the Hyperion...?"

"Still alive, and unharmed. I took...measures to ensure his compliance however."

Azrael smirked, "Good. Let me send you these coordinates for the drop off point, and then I'd like for you to come to the Lunar Base so we can discuss the matter of your payment." The greaseball fiddled around with something off screen, and an alert pinged from the Guild Tech's tablet. "You've done good work here, Gentles. And from what I can tell, you've definitely impressed my superiors."

Azrael's smirk grew almost feral, triumphant, "We'll keep in touch,"

The feed flickered, and faded to black as Aaron leaned back in his chair, staring at the bulkhead above him.

[i]The prisoners shouldnt be an issue. They're wrapped up in their normal suits, subsisting off my good charity, are helpless without power or engines, and are in the middle of ZAFT territory. From what I could gather, they're Eurasian Federation out of Artemis, so this is probably political in nature. Even so...[/i]

Aaron chuckled, bringing up his tablet and a cup of coffee as he looked over it's display.

[i]Mirage Colloid...Virus, huh? And that shield wasn't too bad either. I'm going to need a better parts fabricator if I want to put this stuff to use anytime soon. The Junk Guild simply doesnt have any industrial complexes capable of producing equipment this advanced. Hmm...Azrael's superiors, huh?

Well, if they can provide that for me, I won't mind doing a few more jobs for them. I'll do whatever it takes to keep this ship alive. And what my family left for me. No matter what the cost.[/i]

The expressionless natural drank deeply from the straw in his cup, adapted to the low-G environment, [i]Huh. I wonder what they plan to do with that long haired pretty brat? Oh well. Probably dissect him or something.[/i] He shrugged, dismissing the train of thought, and returned to poring over the information he had gotten from this latest stunt. Dropping them off could wait until they were actually on the way. It's not like the [i]Ortygia[/i] or Hyperion could escape under these circumstances, given that theyre being dragged through space by harpoons firmly anchored in the ships hull and the suits pilot being locked in a holding cell.