By the time the fire burned down to a bed of coals they had cubes of dark red meat on sticks ready to broil. “How do you like yours?” Vorkosigan asked. “Rare? Medium?” “I think it had better be well done,” suggested Cordelia. “We hadn’t completed the parasite survey yet.” Vorkosigan glanced at his cube with a new dubiousness. “Ah. Quite,” he said faintly.
