QUOTE : We’re just good friends,” caroled Miles, and laughed hysterically. He lunged for the comconsole—the guards grabbed for him and missed—and, climbing across the desk, snarled into the vid, “Stay away from her, you little shit! She’s mine, you hear, mine, mine, all mine—Quinn, Quinn, beautiful Quinn, Quinn of the evening, beautiful Quinn,” he sang off-key as the guards dragged him back. Blows ran him down into silence. “I thought you had him on fast-penta,” said the clone to Galen. “We do.” “It doesn’t sound like fast-penta!