A Brother's Debt by Karl Jones Page A

was heard, but if he was it made no difference, the man continued to move forward, throwing punch after punch.
    After dodging or blocking at least half a dozen blows, and trying repeatedly to tell the man he wasn’t his brother, Step had had enough. Blocking the next attempted blow he drove his fist into the man’s stomach. Though he was tempted to put all of his strength behind the blow, he didn’t, he held back and punched him just hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.
    While the man was bent over gasping for breath Step hooked one of his legs out from under him and shoved him backwards. He fell to the ground and Step pounced on him, pinning his arms to the ground. “Calm down!” He did his best to subdue the man as he bucked and heaved beneath him. “Hey!” He slapped him smartly across the face to try and bring him to his senses. “Listen to me. I’m not Andrei, Andrei’s dead; I’m his brother, Step.”
    It was a couple of minutes before the man beneath him finally calmed down, though Step suspected that was more because he had tired himself out than because he had come to his senses. Cautiously Step pushed himself up and off the man beneath him, ready to defend himself should he attack again. “Are you going to stay calm now?” he asked. “I’m not Andrei, I’m not the one you want to be attacking, he’s dead.”
    “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