Translator Zeiat gave an exasperated sigh. “That would be just like her. I am so glad I’m not Dlique. Did you know she dismembered her sister once? She was bored, she said, and wanted to know what would happen. Well, what did she expect? And her sister’s never been the same.”
— Ann Leckie, Ancillary Mercy ‎- волна бургерных
“Translator,” I said, “are you suggesting that since Translator Dlique isn’t entirely trustworthy, she might have lied to us about being Translator Dlique?” “Nothing more likely,” replied Zeiat. “You can see why I’d much rather be Zeiat than Dlique. I don’t much like her sense of humor, and I certainly don’t want to encourage her. But I’d much rather be Zeiat than Dlique just now, so I suppose we can just let her have her little bit of fun this time. Is there anything, you know…” She gestured doubt. “Anything left? Of the body, I mean.” ‎- волна бургерных
“Graciously thanking Fleet Captain Uemi for her compliments,” I replied, “I am not currently concerned with any system but Athoek. I am sending local intelligence, and my own official reports, with many thanks for the fleet captain’s offer to pass them on to the appropriate authorities.” And bundled that up with a week’s worth of every scrap of official news I could find, including the results of seventy-five regional downwell radish-growing competitions that had been announced just that morning, which I flagged as worthy of special attention. And a month’s worth of my own routine reports and status records, dozens of them, every single line of every single one of them filled out with exactly the same two words: _Fuck off_. ‎- волна бургерных
“Why, Fleet Captain,” Translator Zeiat exclaimed, “that’s a charming song! Why haven’t I heard you sing it before now?” // I took a breath. “Nine hundred ninety-nine eggs all nice and warm…” // “Crack, crack, crack,” Translator Zeiat joined me, her voice a bit breathy but otherwise quite pleasant, “a little chick is born. Peep peep peep peep! What fun! Are there more verses?” // “Nine hundred and ninety-eight of them, Translator,” I said. // “We’re not cousins anymore,” said _Sphene_. ‎- волна бургерных
“I’m given to understand,” said Translator Zeiat thoughtfully, “that most, if not all, humans are built by other humans. If that’s a disqualification for Significance—which I’m not sure it is—if that’s a disqualification for Significance, then… no, I don’t like that one bit. That negates the treaty entirely.” ‎- волна бургерных
“The agenda is important!” Tisarwat insisted. I would have to keep a tight rein on her—I wanted her experience, and her talent for politics, but I didn’t want Anaander Mianaai—the tendencies Tisarwat had gotten from Anaander Mianaai, surely part of her desperate urge to be in those meetings—to have any sort of significant influence over what we were trying to build here. And besides, if she was left unchecked we were liable to end up with an Autarchy of Two Systems, ruled by Lieutenant Tisarwat. “The fleet captain’s traveled a lot outside the Radch and she has some odd ideas. If nobody stops her we’re likely to end up with system official appointments determined by the results of a ball game! Or chosen by lot! Or _popular elections_!” ‎- волна бургерных
Ekalu leaned close to Seivarden. “We should find somewhere more private. If, that is, you can behave yourself.” “Yes,” agreed Seivarden, quietly, trying not to sound too fervent but not entirely succeeding. “I’ll be good. I’ll try to be good.” “Will you, now?” asked Ekalu, with a tiny smile that was the end of Seivarden’s ability to seem cool and collected. ‎- волна бургерных
[ну что сказать? достойное завершение трилогии. Ancillary Sword мне из всех частей понравился больше всего, но вообще надо читать всё вместе, это цельная штука. в Mercy конечно Переводчик Зейат настолько прекрасна, что чуть было не затмила своими гэгами всё остальное действие] ‎- волна бургерных