Part 3: Chillard

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Watching the factories become residential complexes, Chillard stared out the window of the mag rail transport. His shift ended an hour earlier. According to the Combine Standard Clock it was evening time, but on Station Z, with no sun and no sky, it was impossible to tell. He'd grown used to the artificial midday lighting. He looked forward to the seemingly random yet meticulously coordinated cool breeze from the station's environmental systems. Jake Vis had the right idea, it was time to go.

The accident in the park had been two days ago. Despite the passage of time, the psychic echoes of Jake's victims still bounced around in Chillard's head. Pain relievers and meditation lowered the volume, but neither stopped the noise. Chillard had never been so afflicted. The alieness of the situation left him bewildered and hindered his ability to carry out his mission. He didn't dare approach shift leader Bloch in such a condition.

Chillard closed his eyes and walked his mind through the Five Steps of Quiet. In a matter of moments he was able to narrow his thought to a fine point, focused on completing the mission. Once he had access to her files, he could complete his report and broadcast to his superiors within the Armada. Weighing his options, Chillard concluded he would need to physically attain access to Irena's data node. From there he could crack her security measures and take what he needed. To pull this off, he'd have to analyze the security of her facility.

With a burst of inspiration, he realized he might be able to use Irena Bloch's canamarian romantic interest as a way to get close to-

Someone's thoughts invaded Chillard's quiet-state. They were so fixated on him, it was impossible for his mind-work to ignore. Casually, Chillard used the transport window to scan his surroundings. Across the isle was a man dressed in tunic and slacks, carrying a briefcase and wearing an ID badge clipped to his pocket. The ensemble screamed data analyst, but the man's build and the hawkish way he studied Chillard was more in line with station security.

Outwardly, Chillard remained calm, but inside he was filled with panic. Pain lanced through his mind, the agony of Jake Vis striking him repeatedly with a metal waste bin. Chillard jumped to his feet, frightening the woman seated beside him.

"Sorry, ma'am," he said breathily. He massaged his temple in an attempt to quell the sensation. "This is my stop."

The woman nodded in understanding.

The transport slid to a halt and the doors slid open. Chillard stumbled out and leaned against the safety railing. Down below was the pedestrian walkway. The emotions of those around him threatened to breach his mental defenses and Chillard quickly shut himself off. Effectively he was locked inside his mind with the feeling of the couple he witnessed murdered in the park. The fear and confusion was disorienting. Chillard smiled and assured concerned onlookers he was fine and made his way down from the mag rail platform. He walked home with slow deliberate steps.

At the corner he noticed his stalker following at a respectful distance. Chillard might have missed him if the man's surface thoughts weren't so doggedly concerned with surveilling the suspect. Chillard was a suspect... he didn't believe his cover was blown, but it was only a matter of time.

Under the guise of dealing with his headache, he studied the crossing signal, letting it change twice. Just before the third change, Chillard invaded the security guard's thoughts. Insinuating his own construct, the man jumped as he heard the crying of human babies behind him. The security guard turned around in a panic, frightened and concerned. Chillard rushed across the street, just as vehicle traffic was spurred into action. Mind-workers who were sent into Human Space were taught early about human's predisposition to run and help young in distress.

Losing his tail for a few minutes, Chillard rushed to his apartment.

Slipping into his second floor single bedroom, Chillard went straight to the lavatory and removed a bottle of painkillers from the medicine cabinet. He swallowed two pills and drank a glass of water from the kitchen sink. There wasn't a lot of time. His building had three Xnean occupants, both of the others were of different feather patterns and ethnicity. It wouldn't take long for his stalker to determine where to find him. Moving quickly would be his only hope.

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