He should have come see this weekend's session.
It started out with the PC's being on the run from the law with what I'd reported last time as the "Traveller equivalent of the Millenium Falcon", but it's become clear that it's really a little bit more like this:
And, courtesy of dear old possibly-dead, possibly-undead, possibly-immortal Uncle Roman (the previous owner), it even came complete with a down home soundtrack from old earth:
Then, after a quick stop in Space Las Vegas for some plastic surgery and fake IDs (to confound the Feds), they headed off to the extreme ultraculture high-tech world of the sector, a little bit like this:
But that was just a quick stop to buy some heavy ordnance and get some serious genetic and cybernetic augments they figured they'd need for the coming travails, in a place where there's no law to speak of and almost anything could be purchased. After that, they headed off into the deep boonies, where they had a run-in with the Traveller version of these guys:
Just in time for the Inbred Space Yokels to go apeshit on the research facility they desperately needed to get access to; though the PCs seem a bit unclear about whether the goal was to access said facility in order to clear their name, or just get stupidly rich.
Anyways, a high-tech low-tech rip-roaring hootin'-and-hollerin' space-whale of a time was had by all.
Currently Smoking: Moretti Rhodesian + Gawith's Squadron Leader