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steps to the main deck. Viewports surrounded the rectangular room, giving a 360-degree view of the space dock in which the ship sat. The floor sloped down to the helm console at the very front. At the heart of the center stood the captain’s seat. It differed from any Steiner had ever seen. A flat, semicircular control board with a domed cover over it was molded to the left armrest.
    “I had this specially designed,” Suzanne pointed out. “The shielded section is where you can enter passwords without any of the crew seeing you.”
    “Just how many different codes are there?”
    “Ninety-seven.” She produced a computer pad from inside her uniform jacket. “I suggest you try to memorize them, so you won’t have to carry this around with you.”
    Listed on the tiny screen on the pad were passwords for the command center, the armory, the landing bay, the two main air locks, and every single pressure door on board. The top code was highlighted. It read PAV:73993.
    “What’s this one used for?” he asked, pointing to it.
    “It’s the most important. That prevents other U.S.S. vessels from firing on you.”
    Steiner’s stomach tightened. “Run that by me again.”
    “Anytime another U.S.S. spacecraft passes near the P.A.V., it will request this password to be transmitted. If it isn’t, the ship will automatically assume that your crew has mutinied and open fire.”
    “What if I’m occupied when that happens?”
    “They’ll give you ample time to respond before they attack.”
    “With my luck, I’ll meet up with an impatient, trigger-happy captain who will blow me away before I can.”
    “You’ve got to think more optimistically. No one in the fleet would do such a thing.”
    She guided him down a narrow stairwell on the right side of the center and introduced him to his personal conference chamber. The nameplate on the door read: CAPTAIN JOSEPH BARKER.
    “This must be the man who was killed,” he said.
    “Sorry, I’ll have it changed tomorrow,” Suzanne replied.
    “No, leave it up.”
    “Why?”
    Steiner traced the carved letters with his finger. “It will serve as a constant reminder to me never to let my guard down.”
    The stairwell on the opposite side of the command center led to where the star charts were kept. Suzanne guided him to the rear of the circular control console, which was elevated a foot above the main deck. The weapons console faced the front viewer. Six darkened monitors lined the rear wall. When Suzanne pressed a keypad on the console, the screens flashed to life, depicting vacant corridors.
    “Surveillance cameras have been positioned throughout the ship,” she explained as she demonstrated by changing the images.
    Steiner watched the quick succession of deserted areas on the screens. “Wait, what was that? Back them up just a little.”
    Suzanne reversed the order, stopping on an overhead view of the massive engine chamber. Three small figures worked near the end of one of the long, cylindrical reactors.
    “Who are they?” Steiner asked.
    Suzanne zoomed the image in on one of the convicts, an ebony man with thinning gray hair. “That’s Phillip Daniels, the head engineer. He helped restore the P.A.V.”
    Daniels guided a young-looking black man and a lanky white man in reattaching a piece of coolant tubing.
    “What’s Daniels in prison for?”
    “Does it matter?”
    “I want to know each of my men’s crimes. Now, tell me.”
    “A few years ago, he worked as a hit man for Mikey Ca landra.”
    “Oh really. Our old friend Mikey, the most sadistic crime boss in the galaxy.”
    “Jake, nobody is in prison for picking flowers in someone else’s yard. Many of these men have brutal pasts. Remember—you were arrested for attempted murder.”
    “I sought justice.”
    “A judge didn’t think so.”
    Steiner held his tongue.
    After Suzanne locked the command center, she returned to the stairway they had come up and proceeded down to the central hallway, where they