Try some more. The strawberries taste like strawberries, and the snozzberries taste like snozzberries.
Oh, man, this is great… hey, as long as you don’t make me smell Uranus.
Planet seven’s Uranus and here’s a funny thing: It’s tipped over on its side. Look at that skinny sideways ring.
The time has come to put ourselves in an orbit around Io, which is where Discovery is. We don’t have enough fuel to slow ourselves down, so we are about to use a technique called aerobraking. The theory is, we will enter the outer layer of Jupiter’s atmosphere using what is called a “ballute” for a shield. The atmosphere will slow us down, and Jupiter’s gravity will grab hold of us and slingshot us around behind the dark side. If all goes well, we’ll wind up in a gentle orbit around Io. It’s dynamite on paper.
What are you doing?
Working on Escape Plan B.
The ape escaped a fifth way.
Come on you apes, you wanna live forever?
Every 10 or 11,000 years I make a horrible mistake.
Well, you cured the rage, but all our evidence burned down.
“If you ever mention my uncle to me again, I will personally push your face through the top of this table.”
Shut your fucking face, Uncle Fucker.
Someone must contradict this diabolical man.
To the last, I will grapple with thee… from Hell’s heart, I stab at thee! For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee!
“Um? Forgive me, Admiral Harrington. My attention seems to wander a bit these days.” He smiled thinly. “It’s just that I made myself a small list of things to do if the opportunity ever came my way, and killing Tresca was the second item on it. Is it too much too hope that he died badly?”
“I think you could say he died about as badly as anyone possibly could, Sir,” McKeon answered for Honor, remembering the savagely mutilated lump of once-human meat his people had found in Tresca’s blood-spattered quarters.
This would be a good death… But not good enough.
His death was a mess and a murder and I surely failed to prevent it. But I did not cause it.
This blood is from a dead person.
"Expect you’d want to say your famous last words right now. Just one trouble. I ain’t gonna kill you. Hell, I’m gonna grant your greatest wish. I’m gonna show you a world without sin. "
I hate that her last words were, “Where the hell did I put the vanilla.”
Some prudent back part of Miles’ brain couldn’t help making a note of what she looked like when she was really angry, for future reference.