They prowled through the maintenance corridors of the subterranean service passages. Patricia in the front, carefully choosing her route past underground sewage reclaimers, server hubs, and locked storage depots. The heart of any large station was the network of arteries underneath, beyond the eye of the casual observer, where the processes of running such a vast structure toiled endlessly. Cheshire would ensure the electronic security measures would be blind to Patricia's infiltration, but she'd still be vulnerable to the naked eye. Sometimes the more primitive ways still worked the best.

Chillard brought up the rear. He'd clearly received training in stealth operations. His technique needed honing, but he had the basics down. He constantly stopped to check if they were being followed. Each time he fell too far behind, Patricia waited for him around the next bend. She had use for a Special Diplomat even if he was reluctant to join the cause.

They reached a juncture where the piping and circuitry for four sectors intersected. Patricia took a moment to listen. Distant footsteps carried down the wide tunnels warned of maintenance workers who might spot them if the two spies weren't careful. The air was slightly less rank than the area behind them which meant the juncture probably led away from residential areas. They'd have to decide whether they wanted to attempt to hide within the throng of station staff or try to disappear in the outskirts. Both choices came with their own unique dangers.

Patricia studied Chillard as he crept up beside her. She nodded and he returned that nod.

Without more preamble, she grabbed his collar and tossed him out into the center of the juncture. He hit the ground hard, but quickly rolled and recovered. She was on him before he could get to his feet. He blocked her uppercut and danced around her hook, taking hold of her arm and trying to bring it behind her back. Familiar with Xnean martial arts, Patricia charged a nearby steam pipe, smashing Chillard into the hot metal. He cried out and released his hold before he could lock it in. He went for his pistol and she kicked the weapon from his grip.

He rolled out of the cramped corner and she was on him again. Chillard focused on defense, blocking as Patricia inflicted blow after blow until his arms finally dropped down limp. Only then did she relent. Dropping back, she took a deep breath and relaxed. Her blood had started to thunder in her ears and her skin was hot to the touch. She filed it away as data to ponder later. Looking at Chillard, his eyes darting left to right in search of an avenue of escape, she knew it wasn't the time for research.

"You've compromised elements of my mission and put us both in danger. Now that Mastermind-308 is aware of her capabilities, it will be only a matter of time before it develops a way around Cheshire. To utilize a poker reference, you've revealed my ace in the hole." She stretched, willing her adrenaline to stop pumping. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't leave you here for security to find?"

Chillard raised his fist into a boxers form, but dropped his sore arms to his side.

"Why attack me after you went to the trouble of saving me from security?"

"Last time we spoke, you shot me." Patricia patted the Kit clipped to her belt. "Besides, you stole my Cheshire."

"The chip," he said pointedly.

Patricia growled before she could stop herself. She'd resorted to physical violence in order to throw Chillard off his game. She deduced his training was focused primarily in infiltration and data collection. Her sudden assault would force him to rely on his secondary skill sets. Bargaining and invading her mind wouldn't be his first thought.

Or so she'd theorized.

"Watch it.." It felt like her aggressions were getting the best of her too. "She's more than just a chip."

Chillard rubbed his arms.

"I need a reason, Mr. Zwilk."

"If security captures me, there is a chance I can be coerced into divulging info on my mission as well as the little knowledge I have of your own."

His tone was level and unthreatening, but Patricia saw the truth in his words. She pulled the kinetic pistol from the belt holster behind her back. He took a startled step back. Chillard was more useful alive, but she was ready to do what needed to be done. She hated being wasteful.

"Wait!" he squawked. "I think our skill sets compliment each other."

"More likely creates a useful redundancy."

"I'm saying we could work well together."

"That was my original assessment until you bolted."

He had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Now we have an issue of trust between us," Patricia pointed out. She shook her head as the pool of options grew smaller and smaller.

"There's one you haven't thought of," he whispered.

She felt his mind-work brush her thoughts. Her unexpected beating left him shaken. As she'd hoped, the distress disrupted his ability, made him clumsy.

She leveled the barrel of her weapon with his chest as he forged ahead.

"A Mind Pact."

He was right. She hadn't thought of that. Patricia fortified her mental defenses and steadied her hand. Her mind filled with intent to pull the trigger the moment she felt another intrusion. She let Chillard read the thought before she shut him out.

"Elaborate."

"A Mind pact will bind our pain receptors to a shared goal or intent. When we act against the set parameters, we will receive an excruciating jolt of pain. My people use it to bind workers to a project and partners to a marriage."

"You're suggesting we perform a Xnean wedding?"

"Yes. I mean, no." He shook his head. "I guess, in essence, I am."

"How do I trust you won't use this as an opportunity to attack with your mind-work while my defenses are down?"

"I don't think I could even if I wanted to."

Patricia doubted that, but she went along anyway.

"How are the parameters set?"

"We have to agree on the terms. The Pact will only work if we both focus on the same thoughts simultaneously." He wiped sweaty palms on his pants legs. "Look, I've seen what you can do and I've seen the kind of security I'm up against... I need your help."

"And what if I no longer want yours?"

He stared at the gun, then back at Patricia.

"If that were the case, I suspect I'd be dead already."

"Very astute." Patricia holstered her gun and closed her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing my mind for the connection," she said without breaking her short meditation.

She'd let him talk himself into accepting their partnership. Unless she had completely misread Chillard, Patricia was sure he'd do as he'd said. After clearing her mind, they'd have to hold hands and carefully discuss the terms of their arrangement. The Mind Pact was an ancient Xnean custom dating back to before the Armada had gained the ability to navigate the stars. Patricia was quite familiar with the practice. She and Tipwi had been quite close. She'd shown Patricia a great many Xnean rituals.

Agreeing on the terms of their pact took longer than the psychic link itself, but fifteen minutes later they were bound by an agreement to help each other escape the station with as much shared information about Project CTRL as they could find.

"You've done this before," Chillard observed as he reclaimed his sidearm.

"Yeah, but yours was a lot less painful."

"There shouldn't have been pain at all," he said with concern.

"I was told it's because I don't know how to relax my mind and clear my thoughts."

"You're supposed to think of nothing but the parameters of the pact."

"For me, that's far easier said than done." Patricia thought of Scott and Liam at that moment. They would have said she was stubborn, not understanding how her mind worked. "Did you hear that?"

The two froze. Footsteps approached at a steady pace. She pointed up to a collection of pipes and grabbed Chillard by the collar.

"Come on, Chilly!"

"It's Chillard," he yelped as she pulled him along.

A few minutes later, they were hidden atop a cluster of crisscrossing pipes as a strange procession marched beneath them. Two maintenance clones armed with kinetic sub-machine guns led a group of eight prisoners. Bringing up the rear were three more clones. The clones moved with a strange synchronized field march.

"Where are you taking us?" asked an angry older man dressed like a factory monitor. He stopped in his tracks and the procession came to a halt.

"Continue forward," ordered a rear clone, the timber of his voice rumbling through the space.

"No, damn it! I refuse to move until you vat boys explain to me why I'm being detained. I've done nothing wrong. Have you?"

The woman he addressed his question to shook her head, raising her cuffed wrist. She appeared to be an analyst.

"You attempt to insult me. This is a waste of time. Continue forward. No further request will be forthcoming."

The five clones created a skirmish line, snapping to attention with military precision.

"Are you boys malfunctioning?" the woman asked, her voice slightly above a whisper. She took a tentative step forward. "Can't we talk about this? Is there a supervisor we can speak to?"

One of the clones carrying a machine gun laughed. It was a hollow sound, a cold sound that knew nothing of humor. This clone had the same rumbling voice of his brother.

"Allay your fears. These third year clones are operating at peak efficiency."

He raised his weapon and sprayed the man with kinetic rounds until the body fell to the floor, a lump of smoking meat. The woman screamed. Everyone froze, too frightened to move. The clone passed his weapon to one of the others and grabbed the body by the feet.

"Continue forward."

Thoroughly cowed, the prisoners quietly fell in line. Two armed clones lead the way, followed by seven prisoners, two more clones, and the last dragging the dead man's remains.

Once they were gone, Patricia lowered Chillard down before dropping him the last five feet to the floor. The soreness in her strained arm lessened the moment she released her burden, but Patricia barely noticed. Her mind raced with theories and speculations about the scene that had just transpired. She looked down at the pool of blood and the drag marks on the ground.

"What just happened? They murdered that man." Chillard watched the tunnel the clones had taken their prisoners.

"Ten rounds. All in the center mass."

"Clones don't normally act like that... right?"

"That level of aggression is genetically removed during growth and incubation, but it could be allowed to germinate... in theory."

"That seems like a strange choice for a research station." Chillard backed away, picking his way around the blood with careful steps. "What about that voice they all shared? It sounded, um, unnatural."

"I have my suspicions." Patricia consulted her datapad. It was getting late, they'd want to be some place secure soon. "We need to get moving."

Chillard nodded and the two continued their hurried flight from Dock H1. Patricia kept a steady pace as they moved, but she quickly realized they weren't going to reach her safehouse in time. The service tunnels went on security lockdown at night and it would be much harder to get around with major passages sealed until morning hours. They needed somewhere to hide.

"We're not going to make it," she said as they squeezed through a service passage.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"I believe we're near the recreation sector."

"I have a coworker who lives on the outskirts. Our relationship has always been amiable."

"It will have to do."

Entering a wide vehicle lot, they were greeted by dim light and idle sedans. They're footfalls echoed in the utter silence. There were no steam pipes, network routers or data conduits. No maintenance clones or foot traffic. Just quiet. Patricia didn't like it. She felt vulnerable and without a discreet connection to the Wide.Net or ship information network, she felt blind.

She scanned the dozen transports, but found them all patched into the Core AI. If they took one of the vehicles, Cheshire would hide their presence, but Station-Z11221 and Mastermind-308 were bound to notice the vehicle drop from the network. She could hack one of the sedan's easily enough, but the super thinkers would still notice the sudden strange activity. With the Core AIs on high alert, these transports were out of the question.

"This way," Chillard called. He compared an image on his datapad to a luminous map by an exit stairwell. "This will take us to the surface level. If we keep our heads down, the walk shouldn't be too difficult."

"Good. This place feels like a tomb."