Looking down at the drone, she grinned. “Anyway, time to start thinking like a suitcase, old chum. Make with a handle.” “I hope you realize I find this every bit as demeaning as you think I must,” Skaffen-Amtiskaw said with quiet dignity, then extended a soligram handle from one side, and flipped over. Sma gripped the handle and strained at it. “An empty suitcase, asshole,” she grunted. “Oh, pardon me, I’m sure,” Skaffen-Amtiskaw muttered, and went light.
