"Avast," she whispered, grinning as the drones froze, confused, unable to serve papers to a ghost. "The only subscription I honor is the one paid in gunpowder and spite."
Mirana looked at the 2038 expiration date stamped on her own neural license. She drew her cutlass — a real one, antique steel — and cut the hardline to the ship's network. avast 2038
"Patch the firewall!" she yelled.