2›Iggy: The ugly little brutes are taking the bottle away. They're swarming all over me, leaving crab droppings on my finish! Stop whining! So they're eating you? Big deal. It'll take me forever to polish out these scratches.›Iggy: I knew you couldn't be trusted to get us out of this. The crabs are attacking. They're hauling your precious bottle back to the water. Don't stand there with crabs hanging off your nose. Say something.›2›Iggy: Yes! The crabs have taken the bottle and left us alone. I think I'm going to miss them. They're cleaner than you. Please, Master, you don't have to keep thanking me. Acts of heroic genius are all in a day's work.›Iggy: The crabs are chittering quietly to themselves. They seem to be having some sort of conference. It worked! The crabs are scuttling away with the bottle. No need to thank me. Saving lives IS my life.›3›Iggy: Sensors reveal the presence of a Galactic Ordinance Warning Buoy. Hmm. A Class 7 Restricted Zone. The manual says it's inimical to all motile entities. No exceptions. Area of zero-contact. No exceptions.›Iggy: According to my sensors, Master, we're approaching the warning buoy of a Class 7 Restricted Zone. Something to do with horrendously lethal lifeforms ... or total annihilation ... something like that.›Iggy: I'm getting a signal from a warning buoy. No big deal. Those pencil necks in Galactic Ordinance plop these buoys down everywhere. If the area's so restricted, why don't they make any provisions for prosecuting trespassers?›