Home > Work > Labyrinth (Vorkosigan Saga, #5.2)
1 " Don't wish to be normal. Wish to be yourself. To the hilt. Find out what you're best at, and develop it, and hopscotch your weaknesses. Wish to be great at whatever you are. "
― Lois McMaster Bujold , Labyrinth (Vorkosigan Saga, #5.2)
2 " If you can't be seven feet tall, be seven feet smart. "
3 " Canaba gave Miles a cold look. "The left gastrocnemius muscle. That's where I injected my complexes. These storage virus aren't virulent; they won't have migrated far. The greatest concentration should still be there." "I see." Miles rubbed his temples, pressed his eyes. "All right. We'll take care of it. This personal contact between us is very dangerous, and I'd rather not repeat it. Plan to report to my ship in forty-eight hours. Will we have any trouble recognizing your critter?" "I don't think so. This particular specimen topped out at just over eight feet. I . . . want you to know, the fangs were not my idea." "I . . . see." "It "
4 " But she was my project—I must answer for her—" "No. She's a free woman now. She must answer for herself." "How free can she ever be, in that body, driven by that metabolism, that face—a freak's life—better to die painlessly, than to have all that suffering inflicted on her—" Miles spoke through his teeth. With emphasis. "No. It's. Not." Canaba stared at him, shaken out of the rutted circle of his unhappy reasoning at last. "
5 " Not quite that passionate, for me," said Thorne. "I mainly stick around due to an overwhelming curiosity to see what happens next." Thorne favored Miles with a peculiar smile. "
6 " Her eyes were huge and gold and molten. "You did say you liked to practice what you were great at." Miles had never realized how susceptible he was to flattery from tall women. A weakness he must guard against. Sometime. They retired to his cabin and practiced assiduously till halfway to Escobar. "
7 " The rather blurred background to the face that formed over the vid plate seemed faintly familiar—ah yes, the Security Ops room at Ryoval Biologicals. Baron Ryoval had arrived personally on that scene as promised. It took only one glance at the dusky, contorted expression on Ryoval's youthful face to fill in the rest of the scenario. Miles folded his hands and smiled innocently. "Good morning, Baron. What can I do for you?" "Die, you little mutant!" Ryoval spat. "You! There isn't going to be a bunker deep enough for you to burrow in. I'll put a price on your head that will have every bounty hunter in the galaxy all over you like a second skin—you'll not eat or sleep—I'll have you—" Yes, "