Inside the dwelling container by the spaceport, Anjali finished folding up a kantha quilt and put into an open transport container, using it cover and cushion the tableware. She hated this, hated being uprooted and having to pack up all of their possessions - what little there was — every few weeks.
Anjali glanced at her wrist unit, because she’d already packed up the projection clock. Mikhail had been gone for almost three hours now. Even if he’d gone for one last drink with Mayhew for old times’ sake — not that either of them could get drunk thanks to the nanos in their bloodstream — he should’ve long been back by now.
What if Mayhew had sold him out? All right, so he’d seemed honest enough for once, when Mikhail had brought him home, but Anjali knew better than to trust Brian Mayhew e
