the smuggler’s bible

Aoi

The terminal flickers twice, bright green, then fades to static.

“They cut the line.”

“You were extremely vulgar.”

“It’s how the game is played. They’ll talk. Say, that’s new.” Pluto Vespasianus points to a blinking light. “What is it?”

Aoi examines the screen. “An atmospheric disturbance. High altitude. Likely ballistic.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s ridiculous. It’s unsportsmanlike.”

“They will, of course, already have slit the referee’s throat,” Aoi says. She opens the door.

“Wait. Where are—”

“This bunker will not withstand impact,” she says. “But there is, I believe, time to effect an interception. The trajectory is very simple.”