Eagle X, Mission 21: CTRL

Part 23: Chillard

Chillard and Onika carried small boxes up the loading ramp as the big man, Blockade, trudged past with a massive crate clutched in his arms. His armor hissed and buzzed as servos added to his strength and lightened his load. Onika whistled as he walked past and sent a glance back towards Chillard. A trauma bond had formed between the three who had fled through the chaotic streets of Station-Z. It wasn't as strong as the link between Chillard and Patricia, but it was there making them feel safe in each other's presence.

Chillard felt her unease. These people were soldiers and mercenaries. Their presence didn't scream safety. Neither did their weapons.

He and Onika placed their burdens in a pile and she caught his eye, pulling him behind the boxes where no one could see them.

"Chilly, who are these people?"

"Chillard," he corrected out of habit. He was slowly getting used to Patricia's nickname for him.

"Sorry." She peeked around the boxes to watch the woman called Nubia light a long brown cigarillo. "Who are they? Who is Patricia? Where did they come from?"

Her questions were a mix of true concern and a natural drive to find answers and get to the bottom of any mystery.

"She says they're her friends. If their markings mean anything, I think the snarling felarnian is her brother. As far as where they came from, you saw their ship come in through the atmospheric shield." He flinched a little at the annoyance radiating off of her.

"We are months away from any EC installation, unless they came from Valiant Anchor, but I'd bet my mansion on the moon that these people aren't navy. Look at that woman, I know a pirate when I see one and she is definitely a pirate." Onika tapped the pile of boxes, supplies Patricia claimed to be stockpiling for months. "What's this stuff? I think they're robbing the station."

Chillard could hear their surface thoughts as if they were background noise to his own. He let himself listen as was standard practice for him and his peers. They were robbing the place, but they weren't thieves. They were something else.

"You agree with me, I can see it on your face."

"Patricia says they'll be able to get her to Mastermins-308's core nexus."

"And what's with that? They look... capable enough, but four against a hundred, maybe more?"

"Five. There's a pilot."

Minor surprise showed on her face. "You're psychic? I'd read that only xnean females could practice mindwork."

Chillard appreciated Onika's use of the proper term for what he did, but found it amusing that she believed The Armada's careful propaganda.

"I'm one of the rare cases who demonstrated high-level empathy as a child. I sometimes know what others feel," he lied.

Female xneans were indeed more powerful than their male counterparts, but at least half of their male population could muster mindwork comparable to the best mindworkers of the other CGG races. It was a secret the xnean xnarn hid covetously. Chillard had gotten used to Patricia, whose knowledge of his people allowed him to relax in a way he hadn't in a long time. He'd almost forgotten the lies and half-truths the special diplomat corps had spent decades feeding the public.

Onika seemed to file that away. "Okay, five mercs against a Superthinker's fortress. It's impossible."

The big man grunted something about more boxes and Onika winced. She instructed Chillard to wait a few minutes before he followed, and hurried off. He did as she suggested and used the opportunity to probe the dark skinned woman smoking as she scanned the codes on the crates.