the smuggler’s bible

Emel

Emel leans over and flips the shutter. “See? Just like this. Open. Shut. Watch your fingers. Release this catch if it gets jammed. Easy.”

“And the timing—”

“Is extremely generous. Keep the target somewhere in the viewfinder. That’s it. Nothing to it.”

The radio blips. Emel listens for a moment then straps in to the pilot’s couch. “Go time. Make sure the shutter is closed for entry. Catch a glimpse of the corona and you’ll burn everything out, including your eyes.” She takes a deep breath and decouples the dropship. “Okay, kid,” she says. “Let’s go spy on some terrestrials.”