the smuggler’s bible


The alarm rings and Dimitar jerks upright, snatching at the control apparatus of the piscine bio-form restraining instrument. It is difficult to manipulate with his bulky gloves.

“All these goddamn little buttons,” he growls. “Come on, baby. I didn’t wake up at a disgusting hour and wade down into atmo just to let you break my heart.”

Dimitar’s thumb finds the locking stud at last and clamps down. The turbulence just off-shore ceases and the winch starts to squeal. One gleaming ton of Venusian Dachshund clears the surface.

Later, he undercooks it and the whole spaceship crew friggin’ blows chunks.