"But... this doesn't look like a Democritus! It's all sleek and nacelle-y."
"But it is a Democritus, sir. See, it has five guns."
"But it looks different."
"Maybe it shaved, sir?"
"Do ships shave?"
"They must, sir, have you ever seen a ship with a beard?"
"Hmm, is this one of those 'erego' situations I keep hearing so much about?"
"Quite possibly even a QED, sir. Dangerous times, you know."
"And we can't be having that. Perhaps, the goddess decided to keep us on our toes."
"Complacent hands are the greyface's playthings, sir."
"It is unusually magnanimous of her."
"Even the goddess of discord has to mix things up. Otherwise she'd become predictable."
"Truth. Well, we should get onboard. I have a feeling that our possessions and cargo are similarly transformed into something unrecognizable."
"Wouldn't be surprised if the ship doesn't even register us as her crew, sir."
"These are confusing times. Best get someone to remind the old girl where her loyalties lie. Or that her loyalties are a lie. Either way, really."
"Right you are, sir. And what about this impoundment notice on the ground? Seems whoever parked here before us also had quite the collection of parking tickets."
"Likely just litter. Be a good citizen and toss it in the next trashcan we pass."
