A/n: Yes, so I had the really strange urge to write this fic. I really enjoyed the episode with Cortes' brother, and thought Christoph was pretty awesome (though I got the impression just a wee bit messed up). Hence I just had to write something with him in it... it just happened to turn out kind of nasty...
Anyway, set some time after the episode with him in it. Hope you like it anyway, and reviews are appreciated!
Lonely Captive
He slowly came around. It was hard to see. But perhaps that was because the hold was only lit by soft blue lighting, as well as a single point of light that he guessed was a Brig's visual input. The only sound was the hum of the ship's flight systems. He could smell his own sweat and blood.
Christoph Cortes was in the hold of a Sphere patroller. Captured, and hanging from the ceiling by a set of energy cuffs. He was too important to the Sphere to be killed outright. Firstly, he knew the location of the pirate block where the Seijin girl Lena was hiding out. Secondly, he'd pissed them off.
This second reason was perhaps why he was only wanted 'alive.' His order for capture held no specifics on whether he was to be turned in 'unharmed.'
It had seemed the Guardian who'd found him had it in mind to take advantage of that omission to earn himself a few points with his superiors, and find out the location of Puerto Angel himself.
"Tell me where the pirate block is!"
A globule of Seijin energy smashes into his chest. It tosses his body around, but he doesn't answer.
The Guardian seemed to have a pretty good idea what he was doing. It was similar to negotiating, although didn't require as much tact. One could usually assume pain was a good motivator for anyone.
Christoph had been able to find no reason within himself to give the man an answer. For the Guardian had made a single error, and this rendered anything he could care to do to Christoph ineffective.
"Answer me!" the Guardian screams.
"No." He doesn't look at the man as he says it. Just hangs from the ceiling.
"You introduce yourself as a 'negotiator extraordinaire', Christoph," says the Guardian, taking a step closer. "I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement."
Christoph looks up then. He looks tired, and is obviously in pain, but there is anger behind his eyes. "Alright. Let's negotiate. I'll tell you where the block is… one condition…"
The Guardian starts to smile, already guessing what this condition will be.
"Bring her back!" He lashes out, but all he hits is a wall of energy that crackles through his nervous system. This time he screams and it feels as if he's burning from the inside out.
"Powerful though the Sphere may be," says the Guardian, now standing at a safe distance, "but we are not God. Your girlfriend's dead. Much as I am now thinking she could be useful in getting you to talk, I can't bring her back. So I'm stuck with putting holes in you… until you start talking."
Another flash of energy lights up the small hold, casting shifting shadows of a man in agony on the walls.
They'd killed the woman he loved. To be honest, Christoph wasn't entirely sure if that were true. But she had been his friend. They had been chasing him, but they'd killed her. She'd done nothing beyond being in his company.
Unless she'd done something wrong by daring to go along with his crazy schemes.
"We'll raid the water carrier… then sell the water back to them. They won't know."
"Are you sure?" she asks. "And we need the money because…?"
"Carli, are you kidding!?" He pounds the hull that boxes him in on the right. "We've got to replace this old rust-bucket… no offence, girl…"
Carli snickers. She's trying to ignore him and concentrate on her flying. "Stop talking to it. So we're going to attack the water carrier in this 'rust-bucket'?"
"Sure! All we've got to do is bypass…"
"Yeah, yeah. I know," she interrupts. "… bypass all the safety systems… and plug everything up to where it's not supposed to go…"
"Not quite…"
"Just get down there and rig up whatever you have to, Chris," she grins. "Let's go get that water carrier."
Why had she always just laughed it off and gone along with his plans? Why hadn't she – just that once – disagreed with him?
Christoph shifted his weight onto his legs, seeing if they were still strong enough to support him. Leaning on the energy cuffs made if feel as if they were burning into his wrists.
"Remain still," commanded the Brig.
"Shut up," Christoph growled. He'd almost forgotten it'd been sitting there.
"You must remain silent," the Brig insisted, "or you will be punished."
Christoph laughed at that.
The Brig raised its weapon arm.
"I know you're not allowed to kill me," Christoph snarled at it, "I don't care anyway."
"Once you have given the Sphere the information, you will be terminated."
"They're not going to get the information."
"Then once this has been established, you will be terminated." The Brig put its arm down.
Christoph looked at the Brig, mulling its last words over. When he'd said he didn't care if it killed him, he'd been lying. He was realising that he didn't really want to die. Life went on. He wanted his to go on. And he'd made a promise to his brother. He'd told him he'd see him again.
Christoph drew in a breath, and then again shifted his weight to his legs. Slowly, so as not to upset the Brig. He gritted his teeth at the pain that shot through his muscles, but he could stand.
Then he took in his surroundings. The Brig. His handgun, lying on the floor where the Guardian had tossed it, out of reach. A piece of copper piping running across the ceiling. The energy cuffs around his wrists.
The cuffs had a sturdy metal casing that kept the two energy emitters on the ends separate, and housed the other components. He looked at the copper piping again.
"You must remain still," said the Brig again.
Christoph now had one foot on the bench to his left. "What do you care? I can't get loose, right?" He looked at the ceiling, gathered his remaining strength, and pushed off the seat.
The Brig stood up.
Christoph's wrists hit the ceiling, and the piping he'd been aiming for connected with the emitters on each end of the cuffs. This caused a short circuit. Every component instantly fried, and he was free.
He hit the floor with a cry, rolled once, grabbed the gun, and then fired.
The blast hit the wall.
The Brig's arm went up.
Christoph let off three more shots in a panic. Two hit the Brig and it slumped to the floor.
He kept the gun pointed at it, his hands shaking. But the Brig was not getting up again. The gun lowered, and then clattered to the floor from his grasp. He slumped back against the bulkhead. His breath was coming in ragged gasps and he was in a cold sweat. He'd barely had the strength to pull that off. It'd pushed him further into shock.
Damn, he hoped the Guardian hadn't heard all the noise. His whole body was aching and he felt like he wouldn't be able to move. But he didn't really have that luxury. He tried to shift a leg under himself, but just got a sharp stab of pain for the effort.
He ran a hand down his leg until it hit on something, causing another jolt of pain. He winced and glanced down. There was a long sliver of metal sticking almost six inches out of his thigh. How had that gotten there?
He had a brief recollection of the Guardian lifting something long and thin from the floor with his powers, and then flinging it towards him enveloped in a flash of light.
Bastard. He leaned back against the bulkhead again. He couldn't see a first aid kit anywhere within easy reach. The metal would have to stay in for now.
Christoph stayed against the wall for a few moments, catching his breath, and staring at the almost depleted handgun lying on the floor in front of him.
The energy blast is like a shard of light. It pierces her heart, and passes straight through her body as if it were no obstacle. She slumps to the ground.
Christoph's vision blurred and he pounded a fist on the decking. They didn't have to kill her. She hadn't done anything. But this was the Sphere. They simply didn't care.
The handgun came back into focus. Christoph drew in a breath, then leaned forward and picked it up.
"Whoops…" says the Guardian, watching Christoph almost dispassionately.
Christoph has slumped in the arms to the two Brigs holding him, giving up the fight as he realises it's too late to save Carli.
"I suppose she meant something to you."
Christoph gritted his teeth, and looked up at the roof, staring through to where he imagined the Guardian to be. His hand gripped tightly on the handgun, and he looked back down at it. There was enough for a couple more shots. He really only needed one.
He got up slowly, using one hand to steady himself against the bulkhead. The pain wasn't as much a deterrent as he thought it would be. He could still feel it, but his mind was telling him it didn't matter.
He took the two steps that brought him to the platform that lifted to the cockpit, and then he stopped. His hand hovered over the button that would take him up. Did he really want to do this?
If he threatened the Guardian, he'd know he was there. Any shot he needed to fire would then be easily intercepted by the man's Seijin's powers. He needed to gain control of the S22's cockpit to escape. He had to do this.
Somehow, Christoph didn't feel so bad about it.
He pushed the button, the small lift moved upwards and the door to the cockpit slid open.
"You're supposed to be guarding the prisoner," the Guardian growled. He started to swing his chair around. He didn't get any further.
The gun in Christoph's hand spat its bullet before he even realised he'd hit the trigger.
The bullet was absorbed by the energy retardant windshield, leaving only small fracture marks, tinted and dripping red.
The Guardian went limp in the pilot's chair. He been dead the instant the bullet passed through his skull.
Christoph took two steps forward and nearly collapsed. He got his hand on the edge of the pilot's chair, shifted the dead Guardian, and slumped into the chair.
He'd taken the ship.
He realised he'd started shaking. His body needed to rest. But he couldn't just yet. If another patroller found him…
Christoph checked the ship's radar. There were some blocks nearby that would probably provide enough cover for him to hide the ship. He took the controls, and steered the S22 towards the blocks.
It took him only a few minutes to bring the ship down into a crevice that hid it from view from the sky. He let it level, and then took his hands off the controls. It was then that he realised they were covered with the other man's blood.
He reached to wipe his hands on his pant leg. A flash of pain jarred him to the bone, and he realised he'd forgotten about the shard of metal.
"Damn…" he growled, grasping his leg, as if that would somehow make it hurt less. He couldn't keep this up. He wasn't even sure hiding among these blocks would be safe enough. There was only one place where he felt he would be safe at that very moment. And that was Puerto Angel.
Christoph was suddenly overcome with longing. He suddenly just really wanted his brother. But as he looked at the ship's controls again, he knew there was no way he'd be able to fly anymore tonight. He was too exhausted. He'd pushed himself too far as it was.
The inability to do anything just made him think about how much he wanted to see Aran again. Not be stuck in an S22, hiding, alone.
He collapsed, his arms folded in front of him. He was too tired to do anything more.
Christoph's world faded into twisted dreams of Sphere ships, weapons fire, and absolutely nothing more. He couldn't find Carli. He couldn't find Aran. He couldn't find anyone. He was alone.
The S22's proximity alert went off twice during the night, detecting other patrollers that passed close to Christoph's hiding place. Both of these times, he didn't hear it.