“Who are you?” he said. “And why are you shouting?”“I’m your first officer, sir,” said Slank. “Mr. Slank. I’m just relaying your orders to the crew.”“Ah,” said Pembridge.“The aft binnacle has been cast off, sir,” said Slank.“The what?” said Pembridge.“The aft binnacle,” said Slank. “As you ordered.”“I did?” said Pembridge, squinting suspiciously. “When?”“Just now, sir,” said Slank.Pembridge blinked at Slank.“Who are you, again?” he said.“You first officer, sir,” said Slank.Pembridge blinked again.“My head hurts,” he said.“Perhaps the captain would like to go to his cabin,” said Slank.“You don’t tell me was to do,” said Pembridge. “I’m the captain.”“Yes, sir,” said Slank.“I’m going to my cabin,” said Pembridge.”

“Little Richard was drenched in milk, and the cow was none too happy. But the iron brig door hung open. "Good job," said Slank. "Next time, you milk the cow," said Little Richard.”

“When the cow jerks away, it’ll yank the door open.”“But what’s going to make the cow jerk away?” asked Little Richard.“You’re going to milk it,” said Slank.“But I don’t know how to milk a cow!” said Little Richard.“Exactly.”

“You just put that sword away, sir, please," said the voice of Lance-Constable Vimes. "You will not shoot me, you young idiot. That would be murder," said the captain calmly. "Not where I'm aiming, sir.”

“You are my heart,” he said. He’d said those very words to her that morning. But that morning, they’d sounded affectionate and playful. Now he said them as if he were stating a fact of anatomy. “I will not lose you. I’m sending you away to keep you safe. Do you understand? Say ‘Yes, sir.’”Nora nodded and swallowed a sudden lump in her throat.”Yes, sir.”Soren bent his head and kissed her long and slow before pulling back.”

“Yes,” said Cooley. “That is the question, as the Bard might say.” “The Bard?” “What’s so funny?” said Cooley. “Nothing, sir,” I said. “I just didn’t know people still used that term.” “Well, I’m a people, Burke. Am I not?” “Of course.” “If you prick me, do I not bleed, you scat-gobbling, mother-rimming prick?” Occasionally Dean Cooley reverted to a vocabulary more suited to his marine years, but some maintained it was only when he felt threatened, or stretched for time. “Yes, sir,” I said.”