"Got a navigator's license?" the yardmaster asked.
"Sure! Want to see it?"
He shook his head. "Never mind! Take her and get going before I start telling myself I'm the System's prize sap!"
The control room was as musty as a tomb, and when I switched on the cold lights our shadows looked like black widow spiders dangling from the overhead.
"She'll never hold together!" Pete groaned.
"Don't be like that!" I chided. "All of these ships have to pass a rigid inspection."
Pete blinked. "You sure of that?"
"Well ... maybe the inspectors skip a ship here and there," I conceded.
I went over her from stem to stern, to make sure she wouldn't fly about when I gave her the gun. While I inspected the atomotors Pete kept giving me uneasy looks, like he was dying to ask me where I'd picked up my knowledge of ghost ships, but was scared I'd say something to shake his confidence in me.