Makar

MAKAR

I left my meeting with Alkard wishing I had saved the baking session with Sophia until after I heard the news about Goran.

We all had our suspicions that Conii had bought someone in the inspections office, but Goran?

He would be a tough nut to crack.

I meandered my way back to my chambers, pacing through the halls of the compound, thinking through options.

This asshole had worked with us for years. He might not know me, but he'd be wary of being buddies with any Vinduthi that came up out of the blue.

And I knew without Alkard having to say it that we didn't need him dead. We needed proof of everyone else he worked with. So I needed to get into his office, get his files.

It wasn't the danger or the challenge of the mission that bothered me. I knew I could do it even if I hadn't come up with a way yet. In fact, it was the planning of an assassination that I always enjoyed the most, knowing I could rely on my own skill to make something happen flawlessly.

It was the same thing I enjoyed about baking. If I followed a recipe, if I made a plan and executed it to the letter, then the product would be perfect and satisfying without fail. The difference between the two was the end result.

I practiced baking and fighting as a discipline, but there were times that the whole rigamarole bored me, the repetition of think, plan, and execution.

Pun intended.

As I passed the kitchen and got a whiff of the cupcakes Sophia and I baked, though, I hatched a plan, and my interest drew back into the pattern, at least for the moment. Goran had a restaurant, and restaurants needed chefs.

The more I thought about the possible intersection of my passions, the more I thought the mission could be my most entertaining and daring scheme yet. It was a sincere effort not to rub my hands together in anticipation as I bolted from the kitchen toward my chambers. Chefs needed assistants, after all, and I knew just the sexy lady to ask.

My enthusiasm came to an abrupt and crashing halt, however, when I opened the door to find Sophia gone.

It was never my style to throw temper tantrums, but even though I knew it was a possibility that she would turn tail and run, I didn't think she would actually do it. I thought I might have meant more to her than that.

That didn't matter. Not really.

I was just annoyed because I failed to predict I would need her so much after my return. She threw a wrench in the gears of my mind.

I just needed her for the job. That was all.

But was it?

As quickly as the thought occurred, I pushed it away, chalking it up to wishful thinking.

I couldn't afford to allow emotions the upper hand if I was going to track her. I decided on a plan of action to carry out the plot against Goran. The plan included her, and that was that. Also, I paid damn good credits for her.

I conveniently buried the reminder that plenty of methods of attack did not involve a chef's assistant. I could have done it without her, but what fun would that be?

I noticed the rumpled bedding and decided to start there. I knew she touched it and I approached it to get a whiff of her scent.

I was no bloodhound, but Vinduthi were excellent trackers, in no small part because we noticed details. If I was going to find Sophia as quickly as I decided was necessary, I would need all the details I could muster.

Thinking briefly through the mindset of a girl like her, I knew where she would try to go. It wasn't an epiphany or anything. Brought to a strange place and backed into a corner, every member of every species I knew would do exactly the same thing: retreat to the familiar.

But how well did she know this area?

But when I reached the lower level of the Fallen Star and left the building, I halted for a moment in confusion.

Why had she gone away from the Promenade? Was she really that turned around?

No matter.

I just needed to find her and bring her back. Everything else would wait until after that.

But it didn't take long before there were more pressing questions.

The scent of Voleks soured the air.

And Sophia's trail disappeared.

I circled around, but still found no trace of her. Or the Voleks.

I gritted my teeth as an unfamiliar twinge of ice spread up my spine.

Fine. There'd be something, someone who saw what had happened.

Twenty minutes later, I hit pay dirt.

Skulking in the filth next to a pile of old crates, I found Jabmar, an old Lifkin crewman who lost all his money years ago in some sort of scheme gone wrong. Now he stayed quiet, trading information for just enough credits to keep him in booze.

His shell was dirty, his eyestalks waving back and forth like they were in a breeze only he felt.

Even still, Lifkin had great vision. If he was there when Sophia came through, he would have noticed something.

Taking a few chips from my pocket, I wended my way toward the old man and tossed them in his direction. He growled. "I ain't no beggar! Take yer money and git!"

"How have you been, Jabmar?" I asked, undeterred by his less-than-cordial greeting.

"Oh, Makar. What do you want?" Jabmar was never one for small talk.

"I need to know if there's been a ruckus," I hedged.

" Ruckus ? Whad'ye take me fer, an idjit?" No, Jabmar was never that. "Say why ye come and git! No time fer yer tricks!"

We both knew that wasn't true, but I got to the point anyway. "There was a girl who came through here earlier. Black hair with a purple stripe." I brought up her image in my mind, flexed my fingers, waiting to touch her.

"Aw, yeah, human-lookin' thing. Got in wit' Voleks. Gone now."

"What?" I roared, then pulled my temper back as Jabmar withdrew back into his shell.

"Sorry." I rubbed my hands over my face, tried again. "Do you know where they might have taken her?"

Jabmar sent out one eyestalk, waved it up and down as if checking that I really calmed down.

"Maybe. Looked to me like they were dressed up like they worked down on docking bay 31."

I snarled and spun on my heels.

Bay 31 was where we tracked one of the shipments of human women to.

There was no time to lose.

The fastest flitter on the street got me there in minutes. Wasting no time, I headed straight for the ramp to the main deck and looked for the door to the converted brig they used to harbor their illicit goods.

Every giant steel portal looked like all the rest, and there was no map anywhere to be found. They must never have heard of fire safety. I would just have to pick a door and knock. They would spot me on a camera soon, anyway.

Knowing my entrance would be unwelcomed, I stood to the side of one of the doors and pounded. Voleks were pretty ugly, but the one who answered the door nearly cost me my lunch. He opened it wide, and I gave him a swift kick to the gut.

He doubled over, and I pulled him out the door, shutting it behind me as I entered. So much for security . The overconfident moron was supposed to be the difficult part.

I heard footsteps on a set of stairs to my right. At least four more Voleks had heard the oaf yelp in pain. I stretched my neck and planted my feet. This could be fun.

The first, a burly son-of-a-bitch, was clearly used to being able to use his girth to run people over. As soon as he brought his hands up to push me, I took his arm and used his own momentum to send him into the wall headfirst.

His skull crunched, and he hung limply from the dent his cranium created. The second Volek was so taken aback at the noise that I had time to drop to the floor and remove his feet from under him with a decisive sweep of my leg.

Bringing my weight down on his chest, I snapped his ribs into his lungs and listened for the gurgle.

A familiar and comforting sound to me because I knew at least one more life was done with. My eyes caught a green shimmer hanging off his belt, and I bent down quickly to investigate.

Ah, a plasma gun. Could have used that earlier.

I picked it up and spun around to see the third idiot racing toward me. To my surprise, he wasn't so easily fazed. He actually had the wherewithal to throw a punch.

I slipped underneath his balled fist, spun around, and brought my elbow up into his nose, snapping the cartilage into his brain. As he seized, I caught his head on his way down and broke his neck to end his suffering. I was nothing if not merciful.

The last Volek stopped halfway down the stairs to watch the scene of carnage unfold before him. Apparently, having decided the gangbanger racket wasn't for him after all, he turned and attempted to flee the way he came.

A jangle on his belt alerted me to his keyring. I caught him before he gained the landing and pulled him backward by the belt, sending him head over heels down the staircase. He moaned as he tried to rise, but I took his hair and smacked his forehead on the floor until blood streamed down his face.

"Which of your keys opens the cells?" I growled.

"Th- they're empty."

I smacked him again. "Which key?"

"Th- th- third from the big, brass one on the –" I stopped him with a shot to the head from his friend's plasma gun. If I had found it sooner, I probably could have used the gun on the others, too, but that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.

I found two big brass keys on the ring. I took it and walked away, deciding that shooting the being before hearing which key unlocked the cells was worth it. I would only have to try two keys.

But the asshole was right. I saw from here that the four cells were empty.

Sophia wasn't in any of them.

Then where was she?

Turning a corner, I tripped over someone huddled on the floor. Deciding it was too small to be a threat, I almost didn't look down. But I saw a streak of purple and came to a halt.

Gotcha.