the smuggler’s bible


Trubaro’s spaceship can only fit him and a few cubic feet of personal space among the twisted up mechanisms and engine guts. But that’s room enough to open a bottle of champagne and watch the clock tick over to midnight.

Actually there isn’t even anywhere to put the bottle when it’s empty, so he just nudges it into a corner and resolves to recycle it at the very next opportunity.

He raises his glass to toast the new year and stares out the porthole, waiting for something to happen.

But, I mean, it’s space. It pretty much stays the same.