Yang Hui brought Natarle Badgiruel to discuss the refugee transaction with Madok, but his subordinate led them directly to Madok's office. The moment they stepped inside, the smoky, stifling atmosphere made both of them frown.
"Madok, you're going to receive guests in a place like this?"
"What can I do? We're just junk dealers. How fancy do you expect our environment to be?" Madok shrugged casually but still cranked the ventilation system to its maximum, slightly improving the air quality.
"Drop the clumsy act, Madok. Don't think I'm easy to fool."
Yang Hui didn't enter the room, instead waiting for Madok to come out. He knew full well that this office wasn't meant for receiving guests. Compared to this smoke-filled den, the reception room—though not luxurious—was at least clean and tidy.
"Of course, I wouldn't dream of fooling you, kid. You're our most valued regular customer. But her... heh." Madok smirked coldly at Natarle Badgiruel standing beside Yang Hui.
"What do you mean?" Natarle frowned.
"Nothing much. We may be scavengers who'll do anything to survive, but we're not blind or deaf. Some deals might look like a golden opportunity, but they're actually hot potatoes. Wouldn't you agree, Earth Forces officer?"
"You—!"
Natarle instinctively reached for her gun, but Yang Hui stopped her.
"How did you find out?" Yang Hui's brow furrowed deeply. He had taken precautions to conceal the Archangel's and Natarle's identities before arriving here.
"Nothing special. Just heard some interesting intel." Madok shrugged before immediately dropping his casual demeanor and turning serious. "So, kid Yang Hui—is the deal with you or her?"
"... Me."
"Got it. This way, please."
"What's going on?" Natarle asked Yang Hui, her question carrying two meanings—why Madok knew her identity and why his attitude toward the Earth Forces was so hostile.
"We'll talk later. Right now, let's focus on the refugee issue."
"... Fine."
Once they reached the clean reception room, Yang Hui and Natarle sat across from Madok.
"What? Surprised I know who you are?" Madok chuckled at Natarle's intense stare.
"..." Though she didn't respond, her silence and gaze spoke volumes.
"Seven hours ago, Heliopolis collapsed. Rumor has it the Atlantic Federation and ZAFT were behind it."
"I see..." With just that simple piece of information, Natarle understood. Her perception of the Junk Guild had been too shallow—they clearly had their own intelligence network.
"Alright, Madok. We've taken in a group of refugees. I want to commission you to receive them and send them back to Orb. Name your price."
"Can't do it."
"... What happened?"
Yang Hui didn't think Madok was playing games. A direct refusal meant it was genuinely impossible, not just a bargaining tactic.
"The last regular ship left two days ago. There won't be any ships heading to Earth for a while."
"None at all?"
"None. We've got our own circumstances to deal with."
"...Alright, I understand."
After concluding the conversation, Yang Hui left directly with Natarle Badgiruel. But before departing, Madok gave Yang Hui a piece of information.
"If you're in a hurry, take the debris zone route. You might find a pleasant surprise."
"...Thanks."
"No problem. After all, you're our most honored guest."
Once they left, Natarle quickly asked, "Wait! What exactly happened? Did negotiations break down? Or was it because of my identity—"
"It's not about you. Although the Earth Alliance, especially the Atlantic Federation, has always been the least welcome client for the Junk Guild, they'd only make things difficult or raise prices."
"Then what's the issue? Why can't they take in the refugees?"
"I didn't mention this before, but the Junk Guild is actually divided into two factions—the Earth faction and the Space faction. Both operate independently and compete for dominance, so relations between them aren't great. However, they haven't completely severed ties either. There's still communication and trade between them. That's why boundaries were set—neither side can easily cross them. Regular Ships travel between the factions at fixed intervals, and if you miss one, you can't cross over until the next. That's the rule. Violators get expelled from the Guild."
"There's such a dynamic?"
"Right."
"But that person earlier—" Natarle was referring to Lowe, since Yang Hui had entrusted him with a mission to Earth, and he'd agreed.
"He's an exception. Lowe is the only one without a clear faction affiliation but maintains good relations with both sides."
It had to be said—lucky people enjoyed privileges everywhere. Take Lowe, for instance. His incredible luck often led him to rare treasures for both factions. Not only that, but his good fortune had also helped resolve many conflicts between them.
On top of that, Lowe's technical skills were recognized as the best among all Junk Guild members. Both the Space and Earth factions had sought his help at times, and his wide network of connections made him the sole exception.
"Then could he—"
"It's difficult. You saw his ship—it can't carry many people. There's no way to evacuate all the refugees."
"...I see."
Natarle abandoned the idea of asking Lowe for further help. After all, handling refugees was a delicate matter—any misstep could spark disputes. If they couldn't take everyone, who would be chosen to leave? Who would stay? How would that be decided?
Rather than letting them argue while still failing to fully resolve the refugee issue, it was better to leave them all for now. Fortunately, some volunteers could help fill the vacancies on the Archangel.
...
Upon returning to the Archangel, Natarle reported the situation to Murrue.
Of course, since they were on the bridge with many people around, she only mentioned the resupply arrangements and the fact that the refugees couldn't be taken in.
"Huh? We can't disembark here?"
"How could this happen?"
"Wasn't it agreed we could get off here?"
"Liars! You're all liars!"
...
"Silence!" Natarle's sharp rebuke instantly quieted the crowd.
"Let me explain." Yang Hui stepped forward at this point—after all, these were Orb nationals.
"A kid? Who are you? What gives you the right to explain—"
"My father is Yang Hongyu. Do I qualify?" Yang Hui coldly glanced at the shouting man—the very one who had instigated the earlier arguments among the crowd.
"Yang Hongyu? Who's that? Don't think you can just—"
"You're the Yang Family's young master!"
The man had been about to continue his tirade at Yang Hui. As someone from the lowest rungs of society, it was natural he wouldn't recognize those from higher circles. He had merely been seizing this chance to gain some advantage for himself.
But while he hadn't heard of Yang Hongyu, others certainly had. Among the rescued refugees were several individuals of decent standing—for instance, the doctor who had treated Murrue's gunshot wound after boarding the ship was one of Orb's most renowned physicians.
"It's me, Dr. Brunotte. It's been too long."
"So it really is you, Young Master Yang. What exactly is going on? Why must we remain aboard an Earth Forces vessel?"
"The situation is complicated. There won't be any ships heading to Earth for some time, so we can't hand you over to them yet. But I promise, every one of you will be safely returned to Orb," Yang Hui assured the crowd.
"...Understood, Young Master Yang. I trust you."
Once one person accepted his word, others followed suit. Still, a few troublemakers persisted—until Yang Hui silenced them with a single sentence.
"You're free to disembark now. But the consequences will be on you."
Leave the ship now? What a joke! They knew nothing about the Junk Guild, viewing them as nothing more than scavenging hyenas. Staying aboard seemed far safer than venturing out among such creatures.
With the refugee issue settled, Yang Hui retreated to his quarters for some much-needed rest. He'd been busy nonstop since boarding and hadn't had a proper break.
Natarle Badgiruel also wanted to rest, but she still had matters to report to Murrue and Mu.
"What? Orb is developing—"
"Yes, that's correct."
Hearing Natarle's report, Murrue and Mu were stunned. If the Junk Guild's actions had shocked them, learning that Orb was developing its own MS was downright horrifying.
"What in the world is happening? Is Orb planning to start a war?" Mu groaned, rubbing his temples.
After a moment's hesitation, Natarle shared Yang Hui's full explanation with them.
The two fell into silence after hearing it.
"Ha… That's one hell of a kid. Is he really only sixteen?" Mu muttered with a self-deprecating smile.
"Different circumstances, I suppose. It's hard to imagine what kind of environment he grew up in," Murrue sighed.
Natarle found herself agreeing. Born into a military family, she'd been raised under strict discipline, deprived of a normal childhood. While other children played with friends, she faced mountains of study materials and endless training regimens.
Yet… she suspected her experiences paled in comparison to Yang Hui's. His insight and capabilities far surpassed hers.
The thought stirred an unexpected pang of sympathy in her heart.
It felt different somehow. Yang Hui was still just a boy, yet he'd already endured so much. What, then, was the meaning of her own role as a soldier?
"Captain, should we report this intelligence?" Natarle asked—a rare moment of hesitation. For once, her resolve wavered.
"Report back, and don't forget our identities," Murrue said wearily. There was no helping it—this was a soldier's duty.
"...Understood."
"By the way, didn't you buy anything else while you were there? Didn't you say there were plenty of intact MAs? They could boost our combat capabilities," Mu asked.
No sooner had he spoken than Murrue and Natarle Badgiruel turned to look at him as if he were an idiot.
"Who would pilot them?"
"Do you have the money?"
"Uh..."
Mu broke into a cold sweat. He was the only proper pilot aboard the Archangel. Kira had been forced into piloting the Strike Gundam, and if not for volunteers, the Archangel wouldn't even have a full crew. And...
Mu had nearly forgotten that all the Archangel's supplies had come out of Yang Hui's pocket.