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ikepauh 's review for:
M: "Being Vor is more than just a job."
C: "Yes, it's a pathology. Obsessional delusion. It's a big galaxy out there, Miles. There are other ways to serve, larger . . . constituencies."
M: "So why do you stay here?" he shot back.
C: "Ah." She smiled bleakly at the touche. "Some people's needs are more compelling than guns."
M: "Speaking of Dad, is he coming back?"
It is great to finally be reunited with the Dendarii Mercenaries because that means being able to reconnect with Elena, Baz, Arde Mayhew, Bell Thorne, the weaselly smart Oser, Auson and the military nut Tung. The Vor Game introduces new side characters, some who we'll never see again (Metz) and others like Carvilo who most certainly is making another appearance. Question is, will it be 20 years from the events in The Vor Game or in the next book, Cetaganda? I can't wait to find out. The dynamics of Carvilo and Miles' relationship is intriguing...overall, I am disgusted. Also, in typical Bujold style to leave hints/to have me guessing, I can't help but think it is implied that our cray cray triple dealing merc forced Greg to bonk her. The hints are there, (1) it took two hands and, (2) Greg talks about how he had a chance to choke her while she was sleeping. Anyways, Miles acting skills reaches new heights, surprising/enthralling/shocking even his playmate, Elena Bothari-Jezek. It left me tickled pink as well.
Finally, Emperor Gregor gets his own adventure and his intertwines with our Miles who continues to march to the beat of his own drum when push comes the shove. Their adventures result in a triumphant Barrayar (?) and an even stronger relationship between Miles and his ult liegelord Gregor. Of course, I will take an expression of pride and love Aral Vorkosigan is bound to express towards Miles in any of the Vorkosigan Saga books. Great stuff. By the end of The Vor Game, Miles Naismith-Vorkosigan gets what he wants -to live out the dream that is Admiral Naismith, Barrayar liaison to the Dendarii Mercenaries.
Was it some aura of old violence, clinging to his father still after all these years? The power, the history? Some personal charisma, that made erstwhile forceful men flatten out like cowed dogs? Miles could sense that radiating heat perfectly clearly, and yet it didn't seem to affect him the same way.
Acclimatization, perhaps. The former Lord Regent was the man who used to take a two-hour lunch every day, regardless of any crisis short of war, and disappear into his Residence. Only Miles knew the interior view of those hours, how the big man in the green uniform would bolt a sandwich in five minutes and then spend the next hour and a half down on the floor with his son who could not walk, playing, talking, reading aloud. Sometimes, when Miles was locked in hysterical resistance to some painful new physical therapy, daunting his mother and even Sergeant Bothari, his father had been the only one with the firmness to insist on those ten extra agonizing leg stretches, the polite submission to the hypospray, to another round of surgery, to the icy chemicals searing his veins.
"You are Vor. You must not frighten your liege people with this show of uncontrol, Lord Miles."