Curious about the apparently undamaged mech, Aaron attempts to scan it, only for it to appear completely blank on its instruments.
If he couldnt see it on his cameras, he would have sworn it might not even be there in the first place.
He inspected the red machine for any identifying marks, only finding a single stenciled in word
...Gun...dam?
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Seiryu said
"You should have enough power to enter the docking bay. You will receive assistance once you're there."
Static is her only response as the com goes silent.
Seiryu said
The tone of the voice playing through the comm channel was different this time. It wasn't a recording."Welcome to the Ame-no-Mihashira. What business do you have with the Sahaku family?"
A gruff voice met her, the signal filled with static
"...psst...Federation patrol...psst..-bushed psst...low on power...psst...suit lacks psst-ust.."
The red glow from the units back dimmed considerably as the mobile suit slackened, hunching over itself
" pssst-eusting...haaaah....ass-pst-nce...psst"
Seiryu said
ORB Orbital Satellite Ame-no-Mihashira"To any units entering Docking Bay 6, please follow the signal lights to the highlighted area"A new message began to repeat over the open comm channel as the previously obscured mobile suit approached.
The mobile suit arrived at the entrance, hovering in space as the cloaked ReGHOST arrived behind it
Aaron observed with interest as a previously obscured mobile suit shot out from some of the rocks around the area, and sped towards the station in a red streak.
...
Wordlessly, the engineer followed behind them.
...
Wordlessly, the engineer followed behind them.
In front of the Ame No Mihashira
The Nava-Hoe came to rest in between two asteroids, looking over the presumably abandoned space station. There had been no sign of activity, and Gentles had not yet received word from the mercenaries Azrael had promised.
The engineer, after some last minute adjustments, launched the ReGHOST and headed towards the station
Guess I'll just stiff him on the pricing when he goes to me for clandestine parts after this.
He scanned the area for debris of any kind, in case there had been a battle
There...wasn't any outside of what could be expected. Taking basic precautions, Aaron activated his suits Mirage Colloid System, and disappeared into the darkness of space as he began his approach.
The Nava-Hoe came to rest in between two asteroids, looking over the presumably abandoned space station. There had been no sign of activity, and Gentles had not yet received word from the mercenaries Azrael had promised.
The engineer, after some last minute adjustments, launched the ReGHOST and headed towards the station
Guess I'll just stiff him on the pricing when he goes to me for clandestine parts after this.
He scanned the area for debris of any kind, in case there had been a battle
There...wasn't any outside of what could be expected. Taking basic precautions, Aaron activated his suits Mirage Colloid System, and disappeared into the darkness of space as he began his approach.
Eventually
Aaron Gentles stared at his viewscreen, a by now familiar blond asshole smirking back at him.
"Gentles!" Azrael began, "It's been awhile! Glad you're keeping in touch!" He shouted with an overbearing eagerness.
The guild tech just stared back blankly, unaffected by the other man's apparent cheer, "So. What do you want?"
"Are you familiar with the Ame-no-Mihashira?"
"No."
"How about the Sahaku family?"
The latter question elicited a raised eyebrow, "I am...familiar with the name." Gentles replied flatly, a barely noticeable tension entering the man's voice.
On the other side of the Earth Sphere, Azrael nodded, "Good. Considering your...rather colorful history, it'd be a bit of a shame if you hadn't picked up on it." The racists smirk stretched into a leer, "How would you like to have some revenge?"
The engineer's expressionless mask fell away completely as his eyes narrowed, "Cut to the chase, Azrael."
"The Ame-no-Mihashira is an ORB production satellite. It's controlled by the Sahaku family...who's only remaining scion is on site, running the whole operation."
"I'm listening, however, I'm not entirely interested in killing off the family, when they had nothing to do with-"
"The one in charge of the whole operation is the twin of the man that killed your adoptive family. And from what I hear, she's completely unrepentant for the crimes of her brother."
"..."
The two blondes watch one another warily, the lanky engineer leveling an intense glare at the foppish politician's smirking face.
"...I'll do it." Gentles finally said, breaking the silence.
"Good." Azrael snorted, apparently satisfied, "Did I mention that it's a mobile suit production facility of the highest order?"
Gentles turned a questioning glance towards the man, "Explain."
Azrael shrugged, "With the self-destruction of their Morgenroute facilities, the Ame-no-Mihashira is ORB's most advanced remaining industrial complex. It's actually pretty comparable to our own Detroit Industrial Zone, if I'm being generous." The Chairman of Blue Cosmos smirked, "Capture the facility intact, and you can consider it to be your payment for both this job and your last one."
Gentles nodded, "...I hope you're not holding any information back. And even if I'm by myself, the facility is likely to be fortified."
Azrael turned away, looking to something outside of the viewscreens range, "Actually, you won't be going alone. We've hired...top men to assist you in this."
"...?"
"Oh, don't worry. They were just fine with money, Gentles. Besides, it simply wouldn't do if we squandered this chance to have a production facility of that caliber completely off the books available for making...certain orders of a private nature."
"I understand."
"See that you do." Azrael nodded, satisfied, "Bye for now." He finished flippantly, making an exaggerated waving motion as the connection terminated.
With a sigh, Aaron Gentles stood up, and went to go take a money bath.
Aaron Gentles stared at his viewscreen, a by now familiar blond asshole smirking back at him.
"Gentles!" Azrael began, "It's been awhile! Glad you're keeping in touch!" He shouted with an overbearing eagerness.
The guild tech just stared back blankly, unaffected by the other man's apparent cheer, "So. What do you want?"
"Are you familiar with the Ame-no-Mihashira?"
"No."
"How about the Sahaku family?"
The latter question elicited a raised eyebrow, "I am...familiar with the name." Gentles replied flatly, a barely noticeable tension entering the man's voice.
On the other side of the Earth Sphere, Azrael nodded, "Good. Considering your...rather colorful history, it'd be a bit of a shame if you hadn't picked up on it." The racists smirk stretched into a leer, "How would you like to have some revenge?"
The engineer's expressionless mask fell away completely as his eyes narrowed, "Cut to the chase, Azrael."
"The Ame-no-Mihashira is an ORB production satellite. It's controlled by the Sahaku family...who's only remaining scion is on site, running the whole operation."
"I'm listening, however, I'm not entirely interested in killing off the family, when they had nothing to do with-"
"The one in charge of the whole operation is the twin of the man that killed your adoptive family. And from what I hear, she's completely unrepentant for the crimes of her brother."
"..."
The two blondes watch one another warily, the lanky engineer leveling an intense glare at the foppish politician's smirking face.
"...I'll do it." Gentles finally said, breaking the silence.
"Good." Azrael snorted, apparently satisfied, "Did I mention that it's a mobile suit production facility of the highest order?"
Gentles turned a questioning glance towards the man, "Explain."
Azrael shrugged, "With the self-destruction of their Morgenroute facilities, the Ame-no-Mihashira is ORB's most advanced remaining industrial complex. It's actually pretty comparable to our own Detroit Industrial Zone, if I'm being generous." The Chairman of Blue Cosmos smirked, "Capture the facility intact, and you can consider it to be your payment for both this job and your last one."
Gentles nodded, "...I hope you're not holding any information back. And even if I'm by myself, the facility is likely to be fortified."
Azrael turned away, looking to something outside of the viewscreens range, "Actually, you won't be going alone. We've hired...top men to assist you in this."
"...?"
"Oh, don't worry. They were just fine with money, Gentles. Besides, it simply wouldn't do if we squandered this chance to have a production facility of that caliber completely off the books available for making...certain orders of a private nature."
"I understand."
"See that you do." Azrael nodded, satisfied, "Bye for now." He finished flippantly, making an exaggerated waving motion as the connection terminated.
With a sigh, Aaron Gentles stood up, and went to go take a money bath.
ORB Orbital Satellite Ame-no-Mihashira
Originally constructed as the first part of an orbital elevator proposed to be built by Uzumi Nara Athha in CE 58. The station itself was meant to be used to manufacture parts of the orbital elevator using resources transported from the moon and asteroids. However, War broke out between Earth and PlANT, forcing ORB to build-up its military and convert Ame No Minashira into a weapons factory. Due to their close ties with the military, the Sahaku family was appointed to watch over the facility.
The satellite's workers are of people that have fled the Orb Union during the EA invasion. The satellite is a production facility for the mass-production mobile suit MBF M1 M1A Astray. It is also seen that the facility held the MBF-P01-Re2 AMATU Astray Gold Frame Amatsu Mina Custom,a GAT-333 Raider Full Spec, a GAT-X255 Forbidden Blue, two GAT-01D Long Dagger, and numerous amounts of MBF-M1 Astray and MBF-M1A M1A Astray. Because it is located in a weightless environment, the facility is ideal for producing advanced materials requiring the low weight conditions needed to achieve stable quality, such as materials for Phase Shift armor and Foaming metal used in the construction of the Astray prototypes.
Near the end of the First Bloody Valentine War, it was subject to a raid from an unknown party, wresting control of the satellite from the hands of Mina Sahaku, the only remaining scion of the Sahaku family in an event dubbed Heaven's Fall
There were no survivors, and afterwards, all information regarding the satellite has been lost.
Originally constructed as the first part of an orbital elevator proposed to be built by Uzumi Nara Athha in CE 58. The station itself was meant to be used to manufacture parts of the orbital elevator using resources transported from the moon and asteroids. However, War broke out between Earth and PlANT, forcing ORB to build-up its military and convert Ame No Minashira into a weapons factory. Due to their close ties with the military, the Sahaku family was appointed to watch over the facility.
The satellite's workers are of people that have fled the Orb Union during the EA invasion. The satellite is a production facility for the mass-production mobile suit MBF M1 M1A Astray. It is also seen that the facility held the MBF-P01-Re2 AMATU Astray Gold Frame Amatsu Mina Custom,a GAT-333 Raider Full Spec, a GAT-X255 Forbidden Blue, two GAT-01D Long Dagger, and numerous amounts of MBF-M1 Astray and MBF-M1A M1A Astray. Because it is located in a weightless environment, the facility is ideal for producing advanced materials requiring the low weight conditions needed to achieve stable quality, such as materials for Phase Shift armor and Foaming metal used in the construction of the Astray prototypes.
Near the end of the First Bloody Valentine War, it was subject to a raid from an unknown party, wresting control of the satellite from the hands of Mina Sahaku, the only remaining scion of the Sahaku family in an event dubbed Heaven's Fall
There were no survivors, and afterwards, all information regarding the satellite has been lost.
Ptolemaeus Lunar Base
Cosmic Era 71
Pre-Slam
Aaron Gentles found himself wandering yet another long, metallic corridor, an aura of profound boredom surrounding him, even as his face remained impassive. Even if the client this time had been the head of Blue Cosmos, and thus, the Atlantic Federation, it still did not change the fact that yet again the Guild Tech had been set up and abandoned to his own devices.
And just like every other time he had pulled his ass out of the fire, he was about to reap the benefits of being underestimated.
"State your business." A blue haired, middle aged officer stated, holding the the blond up.
"Aaron Gentles, for Chairman Azrael." He replied flatly. The blue haired man nodded in response, motioning for him to follow.
"This way."
The two walked down yet another corridor before arriving at a rather unremarkable door. Cursing the monotony of it all, Aaron turned towards his guide and quirked an eyebrow.
The man nodded, before raising a fist and banging on the door, "WHAT?!" Came the whiny voice from inside.
"You have a guest."
"Tell them I'm busy!" Was the reply, a hushed giggling heard from within.
"It's the blond." The officer stated gruffly.
"OH! Then send them in, please!" The blue haired man jerked his head, indicating for the Guild Tech to go on. Aaron walked towards the door, which opened with a hiss. Inside, what he found was a blessed break from the same damn stripped down aesthetic, even if it was tacky as hell. Sitting at a desk, the blond greaseball, Azrael, sat, a glass of wine at his desk while another figure stood in the room idly, his hair pale grey and expression furious.
"Ahh, Mr. Gentles! I trust your return trip was uneventful?"
Gentles glanced to the unknown quality, indicating his apprehension. The act of subtlety was surprisingly acknowledged as the unrepentant racist nodded, "Oh, don't worry about Djibril. Even if he takes anything from the conversation, it's not like he can do anything with it, after all."
The man shook, his ruffles moving out of place as he did so. "I'll have you know, Azrael-"
The man shook his head, chuckling, "Ah, ah, ah, Djibril." He took his wine glass, draining it as he admonished the faggot, "Silver medals don't get to sit at the big boy table."
"AT LEAST I DIDN'T NEED MY BROTHER TO GET MY POSITION FOR ME!" The apparent runner up shouted, his face purpling with impotent fury.
The greaseball simply snorted, "If I was here only because of my brother's influence, someone would have thrown me out long ago. Such as yourself." The Chairman of Blue Cosmos smirked, reaching under his desk to withdraw a wine bottle, "Now tell me, Djigy, which makes you look more pathetic: That you're unable to throw me out because I'm just that damn good, or that you're simply so incompetent that you can't overcome simple nepotism even with all the power and influence you bring to bear, hmm?"
The called out dandy reached into his vest, pulling out an elaborate pistol, leveling it at the blond. "I can kill you. Right here. It'll be easy to cover it up, no one likes you anyway."
Azrael simply smirked, nonchalantly refilling his wine glass as he turned away from the faggot. "Now, Mr. Gentles. Setting aside Mr. Runner Up over there, I believe you and I have some discuss?"
Djibril began hyperventilating, trembling as he set back the hammer for his gun. "I'LL KILL YOU."
"Haven't got the guts, I'm afraid," The racist replied mockingly, sipping his wine. "Take a seat, Mr. Gentles, and I believe we can move on to discussing the matter of your payment."
The Guild Tech observed out of the corner of his eye, as Djibril continued shaking, before slumping over in defeat, as the door to the room slid open, and the blue haired officer promptly slapped the dandy in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. As Aaron took a seat, the blue haired man picked up the faggot's pistol, pocketing it, before kicking the prone bastard in the ribs for good measure. Nodding in satisfaction, a number of random grunts walked into the room, dragging the unconscious man away.
"Right, so as I was saying, it seems that we owe you a favor." Azrael began, dismissing the scene that had just unfolded, "And if you're open to it, at a later date, I'm sure we can arrange for more opportunities for the people I represent to be in your debt."
The engineer nodded, "I don't need money. What I need are parts, and the facilities to fabricate them."
Azrael nodded, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face, "Interesting. I'm afraid..." He glanced to the side, as Aaron noticed the blue haired officer subtly shake his head, "That will be quite impossible. We can not lend you Alliance facilities in that manner without putting certain...objectives at risk."
Gentles nodded, "I don't need any large facilities. Simply enough equipment that I can store in my ship and build customized parts for my mobile suit during my spare time. I've recently...come across some interesting theories I'd like to test out an apply to it. Do you have access to such a thing?"
The engineer observed as the blue haired officer raised his eyebrows slightly, betraying the answer he was looking for, Azrael too, noted this, glancing towards the man. The blue haired officer held the blond greaseballs gaze, shaking his head as he did so.
"I'm afraid that's on a need to know basis, Mr. Gentles." Azrael said, finally, leaning back, "But we aren't in a position of handing out such technology. On the other hand, if you're willing to go with...another assignment from us..." At this, the officer gave a subtle nod, barely caught by the expressionless Guild Tech, "We can direct you somewhere that can provide you with such facilities."
Gentles nodded, "So long as we can consider those to be my payment for this assignment, I believe that will be satisfactory."
Azrael nodded, "Excellent, Mr. Gentles. We'll be in touch." Leaning back, the Chairman of Blue Cosmos returned to sipping his wine, as the officer turned towards the Guild Tech, leading him out.
Cosmic Era 71
Pre-Slam
Aaron Gentles found himself wandering yet another long, metallic corridor, an aura of profound boredom surrounding him, even as his face remained impassive. Even if the client this time had been the head of Blue Cosmos, and thus, the Atlantic Federation, it still did not change the fact that yet again the Guild Tech had been set up and abandoned to his own devices.
And just like every other time he had pulled his ass out of the fire, he was about to reap the benefits of being underestimated.
"State your business." A blue haired, middle aged officer stated, holding the the blond up.
"Aaron Gentles, for Chairman Azrael." He replied flatly. The blue haired man nodded in response, motioning for him to follow.
"This way."
The two walked down yet another corridor before arriving at a rather unremarkable door. Cursing the monotony of it all, Aaron turned towards his guide and quirked an eyebrow.
The man nodded, before raising a fist and banging on the door, "WHAT?!" Came the whiny voice from inside.
"You have a guest."
"Tell them I'm busy!" Was the reply, a hushed giggling heard from within.
"It's the blond." The officer stated gruffly.
"OH! Then send them in, please!" The blue haired man jerked his head, indicating for the Guild Tech to go on. Aaron walked towards the door, which opened with a hiss. Inside, what he found was a blessed break from the same damn stripped down aesthetic, even if it was tacky as hell. Sitting at a desk, the blond greaseball, Azrael, sat, a glass of wine at his desk while another figure stood in the room idly, his hair pale grey and expression furious.
"Ahh, Mr. Gentles! I trust your return trip was uneventful?"
Gentles glanced to the unknown quality, indicating his apprehension. The act of subtlety was surprisingly acknowledged as the unrepentant racist nodded, "Oh, don't worry about Djibril. Even if he takes anything from the conversation, it's not like he can do anything with it, after all."
The man shook, his ruffles moving out of place as he did so. "I'll have you know, Azrael-"
The man shook his head, chuckling, "Ah, ah, ah, Djibril." He took his wine glass, draining it as he admonished the faggot, "Silver medals don't get to sit at the big boy table."
"AT LEAST I DIDN'T NEED MY BROTHER TO GET MY POSITION FOR ME!" The apparent runner up shouted, his face purpling with impotent fury.
The greaseball simply snorted, "If I was here only because of my brother's influence, someone would have thrown me out long ago. Such as yourself." The Chairman of Blue Cosmos smirked, reaching under his desk to withdraw a wine bottle, "Now tell me, Djigy, which makes you look more pathetic: That you're unable to throw me out because I'm just that damn good, or that you're simply so incompetent that you can't overcome simple nepotism even with all the power and influence you bring to bear, hmm?"
The called out dandy reached into his vest, pulling out an elaborate pistol, leveling it at the blond. "I can kill you. Right here. It'll be easy to cover it up, no one likes you anyway."
Azrael simply smirked, nonchalantly refilling his wine glass as he turned away from the faggot. "Now, Mr. Gentles. Setting aside Mr. Runner Up over there, I believe you and I have some discuss?"
Djibril began hyperventilating, trembling as he set back the hammer for his gun. "I'LL KILL YOU."
"Haven't got the guts, I'm afraid," The racist replied mockingly, sipping his wine. "Take a seat, Mr. Gentles, and I believe we can move on to discussing the matter of your payment."
The Guild Tech observed out of the corner of his eye, as Djibril continued shaking, before slumping over in defeat, as the door to the room slid open, and the blue haired officer promptly slapped the dandy in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground. As Aaron took a seat, the blue haired man picked up the faggot's pistol, pocketing it, before kicking the prone bastard in the ribs for good measure. Nodding in satisfaction, a number of random grunts walked into the room, dragging the unconscious man away.
"Right, so as I was saying, it seems that we owe you a favor." Azrael began, dismissing the scene that had just unfolded, "And if you're open to it, at a later date, I'm sure we can arrange for more opportunities for the people I represent to be in your debt."
The engineer nodded, "I don't need money. What I need are parts, and the facilities to fabricate them."
Azrael nodded, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face, "Interesting. I'm afraid..." He glanced to the side, as Aaron noticed the blue haired officer subtly shake his head, "That will be quite impossible. We can not lend you Alliance facilities in that manner without putting certain...objectives at risk."
Gentles nodded, "I don't need any large facilities. Simply enough equipment that I can store in my ship and build customized parts for my mobile suit during my spare time. I've recently...come across some interesting theories I'd like to test out an apply to it. Do you have access to such a thing?"
The engineer observed as the blue haired officer raised his eyebrows slightly, betraying the answer he was looking for, Azrael too, noted this, glancing towards the man. The blue haired officer held the blond greaseballs gaze, shaking his head as he did so.
"I'm afraid that's on a need to know basis, Mr. Gentles." Azrael said, finally, leaning back, "But we aren't in a position of handing out such technology. On the other hand, if you're willing to go with...another assignment from us..." At this, the officer gave a subtle nod, barely caught by the expressionless Guild Tech, "We can direct you somewhere that can provide you with such facilities."
Gentles nodded, "So long as we can consider those to be my payment for this assignment, I believe that will be satisfactory."
Azrael nodded, "Excellent, Mr. Gentles. We'll be in touch." Leaning back, the Chairman of Blue Cosmos returned to sipping his wine, as the officer turned towards the Guild Tech, leading him out.
Bowels of the Nava-Hoe
Some Time Later
Still Pre-Slam
"I was not informed that the crew of the Ortygia 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.
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...
Aaron chuckled, bringing up his tablet and a cup of coffee as he looked over it's display.
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.
The expressionless natural drank deeply from the straw in his cup, adapted to the low-G environment, Huh. I wonder what they plan to do with that long haired pretty brat? Oh well. Probably dissect him or something. 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 Ortygia 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.
Some Time Later
Still Pre-Slam
"I was not informed that the crew of the Ortygia 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.
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...
Aaron chuckled, bringing up his tablet and a cup of coffee as he looked over it's display.
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.
The expressionless natural drank deeply from the straw in his cup, adapted to the low-G environment, Huh. I wonder what they plan to do with that long haired pretty brat? Oh well. Probably dissect him or something. 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 Ortygia 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.
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