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could still hear the loud voices coming from the aft area. She headed toward the bow of the ship, showing him the training firing range that she had had converted from a cargo hold, with a row of training assault rifles aimed at light-sensitive targets on the far wall. Finally, trying to avoid the central junction where convicts might be, she directed him to a ladder well that descended into the lower decks. She opened the large landing bay, which held a shuttle and an Armored Transport Carrier to transport assault teams to planets or provide air support. Lining the back walls were four TRAC vehicles with pulse cannons for ground attacks. She ended the tour with the armory. The assortment of assault rifles, AT-7 pistols, handheld missile launchers, and portable laser cannons pleased Steiner. He had expected the ordnance to be as outdated as the ship, but they were top-of-the-line models. Before leaving, he packed two AT-7 pistols and a dozen grenades into Suzanne’s satchel and grabbed a handheld blast shield. He then asked her if she could take them to his assigned cabin, where he could set up his own personal emergency arsenal. She insisted he was being a pessimist but gave in. After they had deposited the armament, he tucked one of the AT-7s under his belt and pulled his jacket over it.
    “You’ll have to give that back to me when we disembark,” Suzanne said.
    “I won’t need it then,” he replied. “I assume our next stop is the bar. I want to be prepared to meet my crew.”
    She rolled her eyes. “You won’t need to be armed for that.”
    “I’m not as optimistic as you are.”
    Suzanne shook her head, muttering to herself.
    As Steiner exited the cabin, a flicker of light from down the corridor caught his attention. When he turned to look, it was gone. He walked to the end of the passageway and stared up at a lifeless camera embedded in the ceiling.
    “Where are you going?” Suzanne asked, following after him.
    “Someone just used this camera.”
    “That’s not possible. They can only be operated from the command center. You saw me lock it after we left.”
    “The indictor light was on.”
    “It must have been a malfunction. The restoration team probably missed something.”
    Steiner continued to stare up at the camera, hoping it would relight to confirm what he had said.
    “Are you going to watch it all night or finish the tour?” she asked.
    Steiner sighed and walked away from the camera. This was an old ship. He couldn’t afford to be paranoid over every malfunction. He followed her to their next destination to meet the rest of his crew.

CHAPTER 5
     
    SONGS and laughter mingled with the voices flowing from the bar as Steiner and Suzanne stood at the entrance. A sign labeled the place HELL.
    “Part of your crew seems to be religious,” Steiner whispered, taking a cautious look through the open doorway. Cigar smoke screened out all but vague images. The odors of liquor and sweat permeated the air, testifying to the number of low-alcohol drinks being served and the patrons’ lack of cleanliness.
    Steiner walked through the curtain of haze into the establishment. Hell it was, a place of cutthroats, thieves, liars, and murderers. No decent person would want to be there, yet it was filled.
    Circular, varnished tables dotted the room, all occupied by groups of convicts. An antique, wooden bar counter, complete with stools, stretched the length of the rear wall. A burly man served drinks from behind it.
    Steiner led Suzanne between the tables near a large poker game. Distrustful eyes stared, and cards were concealed as they passed by. A gathering to the left burst out in laughter as someone finished the punch line of a comical story. Vulgar limericks set to song rose from the far right. A couple of convicts huddled in a corner, engaged in an arm-wrestling match.
    The bartender, a fat, balding man with a scraggly beard, wiped the wooden counter, oblivious to the proceedings. A smoldering cigar stuck