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missing organs, or suffering from the results of whatever genetic manipulation or medical testing they chose to do on him.
    Since the We’Oxcas were out as an option he had just two choices open to him. He could take the deal Carboni had offered him and work off the debt, or he could take the deal and run back to the Mulnoy navy the first chance he got. Both options had their downside; he just wasn’t sure which downside was the worst.
    His search of the net had confirmed his suspicion that Ettore Carboni was a criminal. He ran an organisation that had links throughout the frontier sector, and had connections with similar organisations in systems belonging to all three factions.
    Working for Carboni would mean he was working for a criminal, and make him little better than his brother had become. He had tried very hard to avoid becoming like Andrei, after watching what had happened to his brother, and the trouble he had made for himself. The alternative, however, would have him looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life, wondering when one of Carboni’s associates would appear.
    He would only be safe on board a Mulnoy battle-cruiser or on patrol either in a fighter or scout ship, the moment he made port he would have to worry about Carboni finding him and sending men after him.
    To add to the complications of his choice between working for a criminal, and spending the rest of his life hiding from gangsters, was his dislike of owing a debt. The debt to Carboni might have been his brother’s originally, but whether he liked it or not it was now legally his, and he was not the sort of person to try and get out of repaying what he owed.
    His mind buzzing, Step left the terminal and made his way to The Razor’s Edge. He wasn’t sure drinking was all that great an idea, he had had plenty earlier, but he needed something to take his mind off the multitude of problems he had inherited.

 
    Chapter Nine
     
     
     
    For a short while after his eyes popped open Step couldn’t remember why he felt so rotten. He had a fairly large hangover, and knew he had drunk more than was good for him the previous night, before stumbling to the nearest hostel and booking in, he was sure it wasn’t the alcohol that was the cause of him feeling so bad however. At least he was sure it wasn’t just the alcohol.
    It wasn’t until he threw back the covers and got to his feet to relieve himself, which prompted a brief stab of pain, that he recalled what the problem was. His bladder was a more pressing concern than the troubles his brother had left him in however, at least at that moment, and he stumbled to the facilities to take care of himself.
    When he discovered the hostel he had selected was too basic to include a medical dispenser in the bathroom he had a quick shower, dressed, and left in search of something to cure his hangover, and take care of the lingering pain from his ribs and other assorted injuries.
    Step was fishing in his pocket for the money to pay for his hangover cure, thankful the necessary pills were no more expensive on Hanratty than they were anywhere else he had been, when he found the strip of plasfilm Ri Charid had given him. The discovery reminded him of the service for his brother that was due to be held that morning, and he hurriedly checked the time on his chronometer.
    He was relieved to see that, depending on how far away was the place where the service was to be held, he had time to get there.
    Paying for the pills he downed them before leaving the store and hurried to the nearest information board. He slid the plasfilm and guide card into the receiver at the side of the board and collected the card when it popped back out, programmed to lead him to his destination.
     
    Once the short service was complete, and he had seen his brother properly taken care of, Step returned to the main concourse. He got himself a coffee, heavily laced with sweetener, which he finished off quickly, and then carried a second cup