A Brother's Debt (7 page)

“Andrei’s dead?!” the man asked in surprise, making no attempt to get himself up from the ground. “What do you mean he’s dead?”

“Just that, he’s dead, he died about a week and a half ago.” Step lowered his hands.

“If you’re not Andrei, who the hell are you? You look like him, you could be his brother. And what you are doing with my wife?”

“I am his brother, Step, Step Velkin. As for your wife, we just bumped into each other; she mistook me for Andrei, like you.” Step held out a hand to help his mistaken attacker to his feet. For a moment he looked from Step to his wife, and back again, then he accepted the hand and rose.

“How did he die?”

“Does it matter?” Step asked. “He’s dead, and won’t be messing around with your wife anymore.”

For a moment the guy, who still hadn’t introduced himself, looked suspiciously at Step. “You’re not lying just to protect that asshole are you?”

Step shook his head. “Right now the last thing I would do is protect Andrei from getting beaten, I’d be more than happy to beat him myself, if I could. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some things I need to do.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” he apologised to the owner of the fruit stall, handing over a twenty credit note. “I hope that makes up for the trouble.” No longer in the mood for hanfa berries he walked away from the stall, wondering how much more trouble was going to come his way because of his brother.

Chapter Thirteen

The moment he was out past the moon that orbited Jum Palt Step set the autopilot for the flight to Barth. The computer told him the estimated flight time was a few hours short of seven days, a much longer solo flight than any he had endured before.

As a fighter pilot the longest time he had spent away from the battle-cruiser he was based on was a day, and mostly his patrols had been no more than eight hours. Patrols had lasted longer when he switched from fighters to scout ships, occasionally even as long as a week, but he had flown with a co-pilot then, which had made all the difference.

When the autopilot had registered the course Step ran his eyes over the rest of the equipment on the bridge. It was familiar in use, if not make or design, and he had little trouble determining that all of the ship’s systems were functioning within acceptable limits, if only just in a few cases. He made a mental note of the systems that looked to be in most need of maintenance and then left the bridge.

He walked down the passage to the far end and entered the crew rest area; from there he walked round to the galley. Opening the cupboards he began to empty them of the supplies he had bought. In his eagerness to leave Jum Palt and begin his journey he had shoved things away in the first empty space he found. Now he had the leisure to do so he wanted to organise his supplies, so when he wanted something he would actually be able to find it. When he finished that job he made himself a snack.

While he ate Step considered what he should do with his time. It wasn’t so much what he should do that he was thinking about, it was where to start. He had already decided he was going to use the journey to Barth to sort out the ship, what he could of it at least.

Mentally he listed the areas of the ship and ranked them in order of importance, which proved not to be all that difficult when he thought about it. The bridge and the engine room were obviously the most important areas of the ship, and the ones he had to sort first, while the cabins could definitely wait. The galley would have to be done after the bridge and engine room, unless he wanted to risk the supplies he had bought becoming ruined and put himself in danger of food poisoning. That led to the small med bay being the fourth item on his list.

He didn’t anticipate becoming ill or injured during the course of his week long flight, but it was a possibility, and he would need to be able to use the med bay if he did.

Satisfied he had come up with a plan of action that would keep him occupied for pretty much his entire journey Step finished his food. As he put the dishes away after cleaning them he wondered when his brother had become so lazy and slovenly. He remembered that Andrei had never been the neatest of people, but he had kept his things reasonably clean, even if he didn’t put them away carefully.

Pushing thoughts of his brother from his mind, Andrei was dead, and dwelling on him wouldn’t help his current situation, Step returned to the bridge. Automatically he ran his eyes over the computer readouts, just to check everything was still alright. It was a habit he had learned in the navy, and one he had no intention of breaking just because his time in the navy had come to an end.

When he had assured himself that all systems were running normally Step began a search of the computer. Though he wasn’t sure his brother’s taste would prove to be the same as his own, he was fairly confident that somewhere in the computer he would find a collection of musical recordings. It was almost inconceivable that Andrei would have spent any length of time travelling between solar systems without something to break the silence.

He soon discovered he was right when his instructions prompted the computer to display a list of all the audio and visual files in its drives. The list continued for quite some time, and as he scrolled through it Step saw his brother had kept himself occupied during his lonely travels with everything from music, to films, to serialised shows, and even a few books. There was more than enough to keep him occupied as well, once he finished the chores he had assigned himself.

Since there was so much to choose from, and he didn’t have a clue where to start, Step instructed the computer to play the music files in a random order. He then settled back as the first notes filled the bridge and let his eyes wander around him while he decided on the best place to start his program of cleaning and maintenance.

Chapter Fourteen

With a sigh of relief Step cut the power to the engine and undid the safety straps that had kept him in place during his descent through the atmosphere of Barth. Though he had landed with greater skill than seven days previously, the muscles in his arms ached from the effort it had taken to keep Gambler’s Luck steady and on course through the storm that was sweeping across the coast of Barth’s northern landmass.

While the ache in his arms slowly faded away Step requested refuelling and a top up of his water tank. The tank held enough water to last half a dozen people at least a month, and he hadn’t used much, despite his frenzy of cleaning over the past week, nonetheless he preferred to keep the tank as full as possible. Water was a valuable commodity he had no wish to run out of in an emergency.

That job done he spent a few moments looking out through the view screen at the rain that was lashing down, very much relieved that he had no immediate need to leave the ship. He was sure if he were to leave he would be drenched by the time he took his first step beyond the airlock.

Getting up from the pilot’s seat Step wandered around the bridge to ease the stiffness in his legs. What had been a dirty and messy area when he first stepped on board the ship was now gleaming, and looked much like it must have done when the ship left the yard after construction.

Looking like it had when it left the shipyard, wasn’t the same as working like it had when it left the shipyard however, his efforts to conduct maintenance on the bridge, and the engine room, which he had cleaned up once he was finished with the bridge, had been hampered by two things. The first problem he had was the lack of tools; he had no idea if his brother had never acquired a decent set of tools to maintain his ship with, or if he had sold them at some point to pay off one of his many debts. The other problem he had was a lack of knowledge, he had received a small amount of training in ship maintenance when he switched from fighters to scout ships, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Once the stiffness in his legs had eased, which took a while since he had been sitting for the past several hours as he came off autopilot and brought Gambler’s Luck in to land, Step returned to the pilot’s chair.

He was just about to call out to contact Carboni’s local representatives to arrange for collection of the two cargo containers in the belly of his ship when the computer beeped for an incoming message. Not sure who would be contacting him, or why, Step opened the coms line, and found the screen filled with the image of an officious-looking man in a uniform, instinctively he straightened up, even though that uniform was not that of the Mulnoy Navy.

“Gambler’s Luck, this is Captain Daile Kipol, Barth security services.”

“Captain,” Step responded politely. “I am Captain Step Velkin of the Gambler’s Luck, how can I help you?” It felt a little strange addressing himself as Captain, especially when his rank in the Mulnoy navy was a couple of steps below it, but he supposed he would get used to it in time. Being the owner of Gambler’s Luck made him its captain, even if it wasn’t the sort of captain he had expected to become.

“You can wait on board for a security team to arrive to conduct a search of your ship. You may accept the deliveries of fuel and water you have requested, but nothing may leave the ship until the search has been completed.”

The connection was severed abruptly, leaving Step a little taken aback. While he wasn’t used to dealing with planetary security services, at least not in the role of captain of a cargo vessel, he had expected a little more courtesy. Briefly he wondered if the Captain knew of the package he was carrying for Ettore Carboni, and the search was intended to find it. He dismissed the thought however, his instincts told him the search had nothing to do with Carboni’s package; nonetheless he was glad he had taken pains to conceal it during the course of his journey from Jum Palt.

All he could do was hope he had done a good enough job and it remained undiscovered, because he was almost certain it contained something illegal. The price Carboni was paying for the delivery pretty much guaranteed that.

His mind raced, considering the possible reasons for the search that was to take place, but his eyes remained watchful and he spotted the small group of security officers as they approached in a ground-car from the distant port authority building. Leaving the bridge he made his way down to the cargo bay, where he opened the airlock’s inner doors, and then peered out through the window he uncovered in the outer doors.

He waited until the ground-car came to a stop a short distance from his ship to open the outer doors and lower the ramp. With the weather the way it was he didn’t want the doors open any longer than was necessary.

“Captain Velkin?”

“That’s me, Step Velkin.” He held out his hand to the man who had spoken, whom he guessed was in charge, based on his uniform and his position at the front of group. “May I ask what this is all about?”

“A routine security search, Captain, if you attempt to interfere, or prevent us carrying out our duties in any way, you will be detained and your ship impounded until the search has been completed and you have paid any and all fines resulting from your interference.”

“Don’t worry...” Step paused to allow the man before him to supply his name, or at least his rank, he did neither. “I have no intention of interfering, or preventing you carrying out your duties. I know all about having duties to fulfil, regardless of whether we like them or not. I will co-operate in any way I can.

“I would prefer to get this over with as soon as possible, as I am sure you would. I have no doubt you have other things to do, the same as me.” He saw an appreciative look cross the faces of two of the three security officers standing behind their leader.

“Good, you can start by supplying me with your cargo manifest and record of ownership. While you are doing that my officers will begin their search of your ship; in the engine room I think. It’s surprising how many people think the engine room is a good place to hide contraband.”

Step nodded, but didn’t immediately move out of the way. “I will be more than happy to get that information for you, as soon as you provide some identification. I realise I am new to being the captain of my own cargo ship, and to this system, but I do have extensive experience dealing with officers from all walks of military life.

“In all other places I have been it is the practice for officers to introduce themselves, and provide proof of their authority before demanding such information. Surely it is the same here.”

The officer flushed at the thinly veiled rebuke and stiffened, an array of emotions rippling across his face. With an effort he got himself under control, noisily exhaling the breath he had been holding. “Phard Feo Dol Bruin, Barth Security Services,” he said handing over his identification. “Are you satisfied now?” he asked, snapping the question as he took back the card.

“Yes, thank you.” Hearing the officer’s rank, which was a rank also obtainable in the Mulnoy Navy, though the insignia was different, Step realised the search of his ship really was routine. A Phard was only one small step up from the lowest rank it was possible for an officer to possess, and several steps below the rank he had achieved. If the Barth Security Services believed he was smuggling something they would have sent someone more senior to take charge of the search.

He supposed it was possible the BSS had a different hierarchy to the Mulnoy Navy, just as they used different insignia. One look at the officer before him told Step that wasn’t the case however. Phard Bruin exuded an air of importance that failed to match either his appearance, or the looks on the faces of the three men behind him.