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“You have everything?” Kester asked as they ducked into the maintenance room. Kester closed the door, then used the screen to seal it—something he’d figured out a couple of days ago.
“I believe so,” Daventree answered, running a mental check. The clothes under his single-piece standard outfit felt awkward, but Kester had been right in suggesting that those utilitarian Factory garments would in no way be suitable outside. The extra layers were already damp from sweat, but, as Kester had said, the temperature within the Factory was controlled, and at this time of year it would be colder outside.
“Control secured?”
Daventree patted his clothing in five places, and imagined he felt the bulges of the tiny vials. It had been Kester’s suggestion to secrete the packages from Ellya
