Eagle X, Mission 21: CTRL

Part 9: Chillard

He stopped beside a pillar as two heavy transports rolled past, each heading in a different direction. The asphalt shook and the tunnel rumbled. Dirt and chipping plaster showered the Xnean Special Diplomat and, for a moment, it felt as if the world was closing in all around him. Security patrolled the street above, leaving Chillard little choice but to navigate the subterranean service passages. The road less traveled seemed to be his best chance of reaching the docks.

As the trucks moved on, a persistent buzzing noise caught Chillard's attention. He looked up and spied a security camera on the ceiling. The device swept left and right, but had, as of yet, not noticed the fugitive. Not wanting to squander his luck, he waited until the camera finished its sweep and sprinted off as it started a new rotation. The main passage would empty out into the loading yard a few hundred yards from Dock H1.

Chillard owned a mid-range Specter-class transport registered under a false license in the private hangar. It would get him to the nearest EC spaceport or to Raiel space in the worst case scenario. A pessimist might have considered his current situation a qualifier for worst case, but he'd eluded capture by the authorities and neared freedom with each step. Everything so far had fallen within the parameters of his contingency plan. Everything except for the strange felarnian.

She was still an anomaly.

Chillard slowed down as he approached a trio of station maintenance clones. Always friendly, always helpful, they smiled and waved. Chillard returned their wave and joined them beside a closed maintenance hatch.

"Greetings, fellows," he said with a wide smile. "May I join you?"

"Of course."

"Please do."

"Help yourself." The third clone produced a pack of chewing narcotics and offered Chillard a stick.

"Oh, no thanks."

Unlike in Xnean Space, narcotics were legal in Earth Conglomerate territory. Though heavily taxed, they seemed quite common on space stations and colony worlds. The mind-altering variety was quite popular among the clone populations. Clone genetics made them extremely resistant to intoxicants, making them ideal for work in conditions humans would find difficult. It also meant standard narcotics had little to no effect on them. Chillard couldn't understand why clones bothered.

The clones stood in silence, chewing their narcotics and enjoying each other's company. Chillard almost felt bad about interrupting their break.

"Fellows, is it possible I could utilize this hatch to reach the private hangar?"

The clones looked at him then regarded one another. Three copies of the same face, but each with different hairstyles and scars.

"This hatch will get you as far as the western edge of the loading yard," explained the clone with the shaved head. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize." Chillard continued to smile despite his disappointment. "Might there be another hatch nearby?"

Again the clones studied him before glancing at one another.

"None of the maintenance hatches of this tunnelway connect to the private dock, sir." said the clone with his hair up in a bun.

Chillard's mind went back to the schematics he'd spent hours pouring over during his free time. Many of the tunnels within the subterranean service tunnelway connected with the public and private docks. He would have suspected the clone of lying, but they were known for their almost naïve honesty.

"Are you sure?" he ventured. He didn't want to push, but he needed answers.

"Well... there are a few high security clearance tunnels," explained the maintenance clone with the long braid over his shoulder. "No one is allowed to enter them though. Even with our security badges we can't open those hatches."