the smuggler’s bible


He rides the edge, speeding through the wake of Huron’s program. The beam stretches out in front of him, churning with the accumulated motion of the system’s collapsing defenses. Traps and feints, counterattacks. Gates slam shut behind them, too late. Others are convinced to open.

“Look at her go,” Huron says, somewhere over his shoulder. “This baby can really cut.”

“What are the lights?”

“I don’t see ‘em. Probably some of the action washing over to your optic nerve. We’re the first people dumb enough ever to buy a ticket for this particular carousel. It’s up to us to troubleshoot.”