Orbs, ( he mutters to himself. Sentient orbs, power-mad gods, Diana wielding a golden lasso, racing across No Man's Land, deflecting mortars and breaking bullets, flung two hundred yards without a scratch on her– )

That sounds... less weird than what I've seen lately, okay. How many have you found so far? Who's in charge here; how many people are on this station?

( And here we are, his questions seeded with his usual confidence. Here, at last, something to focus on, to set neat parameters around and quantify into something known versus the unknown. )