NARRATOR: Neosynchronicity, Command Deck...
CHELLE: Well, that was unexpected.
MURTAUGH: Sanctum maiori... what now?
CHELLE: I confiscated the power supply for the Sergeant's plasgun, and fifteen minutes later he'd put out one of his eyes.
MURTAUGH: Maybe someday this sort of thing will stop surprising me.
MURTAUGH: I was just reviewing the tour he gave our embedded spy. He was perfect. Brilliant, even.
And I wonder if it was an accident.
MURTAUGH: I don't understand him. Sometimes he seems to function like I expect a grizzled sergeant to function. You know, correctly.
BUNNI: And sometimes he functions more like an overstimulated child? Yes. It takes some getting used to.
MURTAUGH: What is wrong with him?
BUNNI: This may be a feature of his distributed brain. Any true injury he suffers is, by definition, brain damage.
He's been frozen, burnt, exploded, and smashed, and I'm not counting the time he actually got killed.
Remember this, though: Schlock is far more alien than ninety-nine percent of the sapient life you'll ever meet.
SCHLOCK: I find my perspective refreshing.
BUNNI: Also, assume he can hear everything you're saying.