Five hours later, and the Saint Nazaire was floating through the dark regions of the Badlands. It was night time, but the Badlands always seemed to be dark as they were constantly under storm clouds. Lightning lit up the sky, silhouetting seemingly thousands of blocs previously invisible to the naked eye. It was windy, but there was no rain. It hardly rained in the Badlands, despite all the storm activity, and most of the rock was bare.

Cortes stood outside the Saint Nazaire's bridge, the wind whipping up his hair, staring out behind the Saint Nazaire, as if he could somehow see the Force Majeure before the ship's sensors did.

The Vector stepped out behind him.

"How's Christophe?" Cortes asked, before the Vector could say anything.

"He fell asleep earlier for about three hours before. But he seems to be awake again."

Cortes huffed.

"He's not doing it on purpose, you know. I think he's really in pain."

"Or course he is. The sooner we get back to Puerto Angel the better… that being said… there's no way that ship could still be following us…"

"Cortes, that's what I came to talk to you about. I'm worried that ship doesn't just keep appearing because of our bad luck. You know we'd thought we'd lost it earlier, and then it briefly appeared on our sensors again."

"And we haven't seen it again for the last three hours, Vector."

"I think that's plenty of time for Tristan to figure out just how far our sensors reach, and stay out of their range. Cortes, Cheng's found something and I think you should come and see."

Cortes sighed, nodded, and stepped back onto the bridge after the Vector.

"You know that weird signal I said I was getting earlier?" said Cheng when the two had entered the bridge.

The Vector came and stood over his shoulder, peering at the screen.

"Well, it seemed like it was very faint at first, like just background noise from the bridge systems. But then I played with it a bit and I isolated if from the rest of the bridge systems," said Cheng.

"We've got other things to worry about than errant signals," Cortes snapped. "I don't know how that ship found us again, but we've lost it now…"

"Cortes, did you ever think how the Force Majeure may have found us again?"

"Luck. I had hoped…"

"Cortes," said Cheng. "That signal isn't just one of our systems. It only 'sounds' like it is, until you isolate it. But it is coming from somewhere on the Saint Nazaire, and I'm pretty sure it's on the bridge."

"Can you tell where it might be coming from in anymore detail?" the Vector asked.

"No…"

"So, what is it?" Cortes snapped.

The Vector looked over Cheng's shoulder again, checking the readings on the screen one last time. "I can't tell for certain, but under the circumstances I find it obvious. Cortes, it's a tracking signal masked to seem like nothing of importance. But I have no doubt a ship that knew exactly what it was scanning for could pick it up over greater distances than standard sensors. That's how Tristan has been following us. He's directly tracking us."

Cortes went rigid. Suddenly, it was obvious to him why the faint signal they'd been picking up for the past few hours was so important.

"We need to find it then," said Dahlia. "If that ship is tracking something on the bridge, once we get rid of it he might not be able to find us again."

"How'd they get something on the bridge though?" Cheng asked.

Cortes and the Vector both turned to Christophe.

Christophe had just sat up, having heard most of the conversation, and held up his hands. "Hey, I wouldn't bring something on here I knew had a tracking device on it…"

Cortes sighed. "It's not what you knew about we're worried about." He walked up the back of the ship, and sat down next to his brother. "Did they give you anything that might have a tracking device in it?"

Christophe shook his head. "Nope…" He frowned, and pushed a hand into one of his pockets, fished around for a second, and pulled out a bit of fluff. "Nothing."

"Wait…" said the Vector. He snatched the medical scanner from the edge of Cheng's console, brought it over to Christophe, and pushed it in front of the bandage around his belly.

"What are you…" started Christophe. Then he stopped, swallowed hard and gripped the edge of the bench. "Oh…"

"Wait," Cortes snapped. "It's not…" He stood up and walked across to the opposite side of the bridge, keeping his back to Christophe. "No, no, no…"

The scanner beeped as it finished its scan, and the Vector held it up and looked at the screen. "I'm sorry, Christophe. But that bullet inside of you is what's sending that tracking signal."

Christophe had started to look paler, and sweat. Despite that, he found his voice. "Then… I guess you're going to have to take it out, huh?"

The Vector didn't answer, and instead looked at Cortes.

Cortes realised his crew had their eyes on him. They were waiting for his answer. "We, we can't! You said it yourself before, Vector. You're not a doctor; you can't just cut that thing out of him!"

"I'm not a butcher either, Cortes. I only said we should leave it in because I was quite sure it wouldn't hurt Christophe to leave it in until we got home. But now I think the stakes are a little higher."

"But…"

"He's right, Aran," Christophe cut in. "What are you going to do? Lead that ship straight to Puerto Angel? Or to some other bloc for them to destroy? The Vector's right, we have to do this now."

"We can't," Cortes snarled. "It'd be inhumane!"

"Well, it's either that or toss me overboard. Either way you've got to get this thing off your ship. Or I'll be dead anyway, along with you, your crew, and Puerto Angel."

Cortes drew in a breath, then came and sat next to Christophe again. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Christophe shrugged, but Cortes could tell he was nervous. "Probably don't have much choice. I'll be fine. I've had worse…"

"Like?"

"Like… other stuff… can we just do this?"

Cortes paused, and then gave in. "Alright."

"I'll get ready," said the Vector. "Dahlia, Wayan, we might need your help."

"Someone needs to fly the ship…" said Wayan, standing up from his forward console.

"Cheng can do it," said Cortes.

"But I want to help!"

"You can help by flying the ship," said Cortes. "And… no matter what happens you just stay down there and fly it, alright?"

Cheng nodded, and ran down to the front of the ship, swapping places with Wayan.

"What do you want me to do?" Wayan asked.

"You and Cortes hold him down. Dahlia, you can help me," said the Vector. He now had the rest of the medical kit with him, and was checking to see exactly what was in it.

"Where do you want me?" Christophe asked. His voice had started to shake a little.

"Just lie down," said the Vector. "Get comfortable."

Christophe let out a short laugh, but did what he was told.

The Vector set down the medical kit next to the bench. "Okay, Wayan, hold down his legs. Cortes, hold him down up here, and make sure he can't move his arms." He got Cortes to sit behind Christophe's head, hugging his arms around Christophe's upper body and pinning down his arms.

Christophe looked up at him, a nervous grin tugging at his lips. "Hey…"

"You just hold still, okay?" Cortes snapped, trying to keep his own voice steady.

Wayan had sat down next to Christophe's legs and pinned one with each hand.

"Alright…" the Vector carefully removed the bandage from around Christophe's belly. The wound underneath had stopped bleeding. "I'm going to have to cut a bit, Christophe. Are you ready?"

"Figured as much. Yeah, I'm ready as I'll ever be…" Christophe looked away, squeezing a little bit tighter onto his brother's arms.

"Okay."

Dahlia handed the Vector a scalpel.

Cortes shifted his eyes, looking down more at his brother than what the Vector was doing.

Christophe jerked suddenly, letting out a grunt. Cortes could feel him grip on even tighter. He didn't move too much though, and they were able to keep him still.

"Hold the scanner where I can see it, Dahlia," said the Vector. "I want to get to this thing as quickly as I can. Okay…"

Cortes glanced up, just in time to see the Vector push his gloved fingers into the slice in Christophe's side. Blood seeped from the wound, but the Vector was ignoring it so it couldn't have been anything really wrong. Cortes shuddered and looked away.

Christophe shifted again and drew in a gasp. It couldn't have been too comfortable having the Vector push around his intestines.

"I think I can see it… hand me the scalpel again, Dahlia…"

Christophe shuddered, and really dug his hands into Cortes' arms.

"How're you doing Chris?" Cortes asked.

"… yeah…" Christophe gasped out, his eyes now squeezed tightly shut.

"Okay, Dahlia, hold that back… I'm going to try pull it out." The Vector took a pair of forceps, and pushed them into Christophe's belly next to Dahlia's hands. "Okay… nearly… got it…"

Something beeped and then made a soft whirring sound.

"Vector…" Dahlia started.

"ARAN!" Christophe suddenly jerked so violently Wayan was nearly flung off his legs. His whole body was trying to crunch into a ball.

"Shit…" muttered the Vector. "Wayan, keep him down!"

Wayan actually sat down on the man's legs this time, pinning him. Even so, he was having trouble. Christophe had been relatively quiet before, but now he couldn't seem to control himself.

"What happened?!" Cortes demanded.

Christophe pulled against him, and made Cortes look down. There was a lot more blood coming from his wound now, so much so that some had managed to seep up onto Cortes' jacket sleeves.

"Just keep him down!" the Vector snapped.

Dahlia still had her hands in the wound, gripping on determinedly despite Christophe throwing himself about. "You've got to get it now, Vector. Or you won't be able to."

"Aran…" Christophe almost sobbed.

"It's okay, I'm still here…" said Cortes through gritted teeth.

Christophe shuddered and stopped flailing as much. He drew in a breath and then slumped back against Cortes, his eyes closed.

"Vector…"

"Not now, Cortes…" the Vector replied firmly. He had the forceps back in the wound. "I'm just going to have to pull it out like this, Dahlia. Keep that back…" The forceps came back out, clutching something bloodied and metal in their jaws. The Vector dropped it in the metal tray beside him, and then ignored it. "Help me stop the bleeding, Dahlia…"

Cortes stared at the bullet. He'd expected something smooth. Instead, the bullet looked like a torpedo shaped porcupine. Small spines extended from the main body, gripping onto little bits of bloodied flesh. It couldn't have been like that when it went in, it would have done way more damage.

"What happened, Vector?" Cortes growled.

"Not…"

"Just tell me!" he snapped, hugging onto his unconscious brother tighter.

The Vector pushed a bandage against the bleeding, and looked up at Cortes. "We set it off, Cortes. It must have had some sort of tamper resistance. When I touched it, those spikes came out."

Cortes opened his mouth, but found himself lost for words. He looked down at Christophe. What if it had gone off so they couldn't get it out? He could see the blood on his jacket sleeves… what if it had still done too much damage, and…

Cortes squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second. Christophe had stopped gripping on so tight, but Cortes could still feel him drawing in shaking breaths. Did that mean he was alright? He glanced at the bullet again. Of course it didn't, that thing had gone off and practically shredded his insides!

"Alright," said the Vector after a few moments. "It looks… I'm pretty sure I've got this under control."

Cortes harrumphed. "I'd hate to see what out of your control was, Vector."

The Vector glanced at him briefly, but then turned his attention quickly back to Christophe.

Cortes squeezed his eyes shut for a moment again. Now wasn't the time for stuff like that. He carefully released his grip on Christophe and let him slide down onto the bed. He was unconscious; he didn't need holding down now. What he needed was rest.

He glanced across at the bullet the Vector had tossed in the metal tray and his eyes narrowed. He stood up, picked up the tray and marched towards the bridge door. He flung it open, stepped outside and flung the whole thing off the side of the ship. He watched it fall, the tray glinting as it caught the light before disappearing into the clouds below. Good riddance; he'd like to see Tristan follow them now.

Wayan stepped out the door behind him. "We could've used that…"

"I'd rather be rid of it."

"I doubt Tristan is going to believe the Saint Nazaire just plummeted out of the sky…" Wayan pointed out. "He'll know we found it."

Cortes growled. He hadn't thought of that. He really wasn't thinking straight. He glanced back through the open bridge door. Christophe still lay still. The Vector and Dahlia were still making sure he was okay. Cortes would just have to hope he'd pull through. "Well we'd better get out of there then…"

"Cortes…" Wayan placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him before he could go back onto the bridge. "I can get us moving again."

"Wayan, I'm fine…"

"Just thought you might want to change your jacket…" Wayan pointed down at Cortes' arms.

Cortes glanced down, and shuddered as he saw all the blood that had soaked into his sleeves. His brother's blood. He'd forgotten about that. He sighed. "Thanks, Wayan. Just get us out of here, as fast as you can."

Wayan nodded, and stepped back onto the bridge.